Filed to story: Maya Thompson and Damien Blackwood Book PDF Free
Damien didn’t miss a beat. “Then make it happen.”
James smirked and tapped a note into his tablet. “Thought you’d say that.”
The elevator opened on the top floor with a soft chime. The hallway was dim, most of the lights in energy-saving mode. A few weekend staff worked quietly in the far corners, too focused – or too scared to acknowledge Damien’s presence.
He entered his office without slowing down. The door closed behind him with a soft thud.
Silence.
He pulled off his blazer, tossed it over the back of a chair, and moved to his desk, the floor-to-ceiling windows casting pale light across the space. His city stretched beyond the glass- clean, controlled, clinical.
But inside him?
A storm.
He sat heavily in the chair and stared out for a long moment.
He should be thinking about Al models. About board strategies. About the damn expansion launch.
Instead, all he could think about was the sound of her voice. The way she looked at her brother. The way her knee had brushed his.
And the man outside that hospital.
That part still simmered in his blood.
Before 5:00 PM, James knocked once before stepping inside. He carried himself with his usual calm, but there was a flicker of something else behind his eyes.
“The files you requested are at the top of your inbox,” he said.
Damien didn’t respond right away. He simply leaned forward, opened his laptop, and clicked into the documents.
“Let’s see who the fuck you are,” he muttered under his breath, eyes scanning through the hospital staff records.
James didn’t move.
Damien noticed.
His jaw tensed. “Something else?”
James hesitated. Then: “If I may, sir…”
Damien looked up slowly. “Speak.”
James cleared his throat, careful but firm. “Please don’t take this the wrong way. And forgive me if I’m overstepping, but…” He paused. “Ms. Thompson. Do you… like her?”
Damien’s eyes narrowed, voice low and clipped. “What exactly do you mean?”
“I mean,” James said quietly, “I know how you are. You don’t do romance. Or relationships. Commitment’s never been your thing.”
He paused, then added – gently, deliberately – “But Ms. Thompson… she’s not like the others. She’s not built for something casual. She’s innocent. Fragile. The kind of woman who won’t come out of it untouched, if you go there.”
The silence that followed was thick. Damien’s knuckles tightened on the edge of the desk.
When he finally spoke, his voice was even. Controlled. Cold.
“I have no intention of ‘going there, James.”
But James didn’t look convinced. And Damien knew why.
His voice may have sounded firm. But it lacked weight – conviction. Even to himself.
James shifted, then said carefully, “Then I hope you don’t mind me saying this…” Damien didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.
So James continued, quietly but earnestly. “But if she’s the one.. the woman who’s slowly breaking through whatever wall you’ve built… and if she’s the one making you feel something again, something real – then I think she’s perfect for you.”
Damien’s gaze lifted, sharp and unreadable.
James held it. “She’s not hard to read, sir. She’s been through hell. She’s broken, but not in a way that makes her weak. In a way that makes her feel everything deeply. She gives love fully… holds.
onto it with both hands. That’s rare.”
“She’s naive. And you…” he hesitated, but pushed on, “… you’ve seen the world. You’re strong. She softens things. You ground them. It balances out.”
Another pause. A quieter one.
“You’ve forgotten what love looks like. She hasn’t. Maybe she could remind you.”
Damien stared at him for a long moment.
Then, finally, voice low and cool – he said, “You’re walking a fine line, James.”
“I know.” James gave the smallest smile. “But someone had to say it.”
Damien didn’t respond. He only turned back to the screen, eyes fixed on the man in the hospital records.
But the words lingered.
And for the first time in a long time…
He didn’t want to delete them.
Maya POV
The silence inside the car had been louder than any noise.
It clung to her skin long after they were dropped off at the hospital – the scent of expensive leather, the low hum of the engine, and most of all… him.
Damien Blackwood.
She’d been close to him. Too close.
Her skin still burned. Every nerve lit up like a fuse had been sparked and then left to smolder.
He hadn’t even looked at her-not really. Just a curt nod. A single word: “Morning.”
Low and smooth, like gravel wrapped in silk. Lethal and devastating.
But that brief contact?
That accidental graze of his thigh against hers, the heat of his body seeping through their clothes, the faintest brush of her shoulder against his chest-
It had sent something wild and shameful racing through her blood.
A jolt. A rush. A craving.
She hated herself for noticing.
She hated even more how much her body remembered.
She shouldn’t feel like this.
Not for a man like him.
Not when her baby brother sat just inches away.
Not when she was supposed to be grateful for a ride – not aching for the ghost of another brush, the echo of his scent, the tension that crackled like fire beneath her skin.
It had been Jamie’s fault, really. He’d climbed halfway out, then shoved the door shut too quickly – pulling her right into Damien.
Shoulder to chest. Thigh to thigh.
A split second.
