THE LINE
By the end of Chisimdi’s first morning on the executive floor, she had already learned that the work was more demanding than she had expected.
She sat behind her desk reviewing Damian’s schedule for the week.
A board meeting at eleven, lunch with two investors at one, a conference call at three and another meeting at five.
She checked each appointment twice before saving the schedule.
Her new position required her to know where damian needed to be before he asked.
It also meant seeing him more often.
She paused for a moment before returning to the screen.
That didn’t matter.
He was her employer.
She was his assistant.
That was all.
The memory of Saturday night had no place in her workday.
She had just finished preparing the documents for his eleven o’clock meeting when Damian’s office door opened.
She heard his footsteps approaching but kept her eyes on the report in front of her.
“Ms.
Nwankwo.”
She looked up.
Damian stood beside her desk, a folder tucked beneath his arm.
Chisimdi straightened slightly before giving him a professional smile.
“Good morning, sir.”
“Is the board meeting still at eleven?”
“Yes.” She reached for the printed schedule and turned it toward him.
“The room is prepared, the documents have been sent to the directors, and your presentation is already with the conference team.”
Damian glanced over the page, then gave a brief nod.
“Good.”
He turned away, but after a couple of steps, he stopped and looked back at her.
“You’ve settled in?”
“Yes.
It’s quieter here than downstairs, but I’m getting used to it.”
“If the infrastructure is lacking, or you require additional resources, notify me directly.”
“I will sir.”
He nodded and walked back into his office.
Chisimdi waited until his door closed before letting out a quiet breath.
She didn’t understand why such a simple conversation had required so much concentration.
Inside his office, Damian placed the folder on his desk and stood there for a moment.
He had gone to her desk for the schedule.
That was all.
Yet he had found himself asking whether she had settled in.
He frowned.
He needed to stop finding reasons to speak to her.
There was no point pretending otherwise.
Saturday had complicated things, and the safest thing for both of them was to leave it where it had happened.
He sat down and opened the folder.
By lunchtime, Chisimdi was grateful for the distraction work provided.
She checked the time and pushed her chair back, reaching for her handbag.
At that exact second, the handle of Damian’s door turned.
They opened their doors at the same time.
Across the wide stretch of executive corridor separating their offices, their eyes locked.
Chisimdi froze, her fingers wrapping around the leather strap of her bag, while Damian paused on his threshold, his jacket unbuttoned and his tie slightly loosened at the throat.
For three agonizing moments, neither of them moved.
The distance between them did nothing to dull the sudden weight in the air.
Damian broke the silence first, his voice carrying clearly across the quiet space.
“You’re going to lunch?”
“Yes.” The word came out a little too fast.
“”Good.
She tilted her head, her gaze meeting his with a sudden, sharp clarity.”You sound like my mother.”
The corner of Damian’s mouth pulled upward, a rare, unscripted ghost of a smile breaking his boardroom mask.
“I’ll accept that as high praise.”
“It absolutely wasn’t.”
A low, rumbling laugh caught in his chest—a sound she hadn’t heard since Saturday.
It hit her like a physical weight.
Chisimdi looked away instantly, her focus fixating on the metallic elevator buttons down the hall.
For a second, neither of them moved.
The memory of Saturday returned without warning.
Chisimdi tightened her grip on her handbag.
“I should go before the café gets crowded.”
Damian nodded without moving an inch.
“You should.”
She walked toward the elevator without looking back.
Damian watched the doors close before turning away.
The rest of the afternoon passed without incident.
They spoke only when work required it.
When Damian needed a document, Chisimdi delivered it.
When she needed clarification about his schedule, she asked.
Nothing more.
By four o’clock, she was beginning to believe they could actually manage this.
She was reviewing a contract when Damian walked past her office carrying his phone.
He didn’t stop.
Neither did she look up.
A few minutes later, her desk phone rang.
“Good afternoon.”
“Ms.
Nwankwo, Mr.
Adetola needs the revised contract before his meeting.”
“I’ll bring it.”
She reached for the file and headed into his office.
Damian was standing near the window, his phone pressed to his ear.
He noticed her and raised a finger, asking her to wait.
She nodded, placed the file on his desk and turned toward the door.
“Ms.
Nwankwo.”
She stopped.
Damian ended the call and set his phone down.”Stay for a moment.”
Chisimdi turned around slowly, keeping the desk between them.
“The contract revisions are complete, sir.
There’s nothing else required.”
“I’m aware.” He pulled the file toward him, flipping to the back.
“The liability clause on the second leaf.
Walk me through it.”
He opened the file.
“The second page.”
She leaned slightly over the desk and explained the adjustment she had made to the figures.
“This clause?
We adjusted the indemnity ceiling to three percent.
It insulates our logistics pipeline if the regional distributors default.”
Damian leaned down beside her, his head inches from hers as he studied the figures.
“And the timelines for arbitration?”
“Fourteen business days,” she murmured, her voice dropping as she pointed to the sub-clause.
“It prevents them from stalling in the high courts.”
For two minutes, they were perfectly aligned.
Two professionals operating at peak capacity.
Then, Chisimdi raised her eyes to gauge his reaction.
She realized how close they were standing.
Her explanation faltered.
Damian’s eyes met hers.
Neither moved.
Saturday returned between them without either saying a word.
His hand against her cheek.
The kiss.
It didn’t just return it filled the room, choking out the oxygen.
Damian stepped back first.
“That will suffice.”
Chisimdi straightened and gathered the papers.
“Understood, sir.”
She made it to the doorway before his voice stopped her cold.
“Chisimdi.”
It was the first time he had used her given name all day.
She turned, her heart lodging itself firmly in her throat.
He looked at her for a moment, as though there was something else he wanted to say.
Instead, he settled for, “Good work today.”
A small smile touched her lips.
“Thank you, sir.” She left.
The door closed behind her.
Damian remained standing beside his desk.
He had almost kissed her again.
He lowered his head and exhaled slowly.
This was exactly what he had been trying to avoid.
He needed distance.
Real distance.
Not this arrangement where they pretended nothing had happened while every accidental glance reminded them that it had.
He picked up his phone and called his brother.
The call connected after several rings.
“What do you want damian?
I am in the middle of something ”
Damian leaned back against his desk.
“I need to ask you something.”
His brother’s tone changed immediately.
“About what?”
Damian’s gaze moved toward the closed door.
“Father.”
There was a pause.
“What about him?”
Damian’s fingers tightened around the phone.
“Tell me everything you know about Emeka Nwankwo.”
Silence.
“Why?”
Damian looked toward the windows.
Because Chisimdi was sitting outside his office.
Because he had kissed her.
Because he was beginning to care about someone his family had taught him to distrust.
He kept those thoughts to himself.
“Because I think it’s time I knew the truth.”