C7 Lines in the Sand

Maya's POV*

The sound of my name stopped me cold. I didn't have to turn around to know who it was. Damian Steele. His voice was unmistakable-rich, deep, commanding. It had cut through the air, pulling me back to that night at the gala when I'd spilled coffee all over him, and he'd fired me without a second thought. The same man who had seemed so detached and indifferent at the time was now standing in front of me, his piercing grey eyes watching me with an intensity that made my heart race.

I glanced at him reluctantly, still trying to control my breath. "Damian... Greyson," I said, trying not to sound as nervous as I felt.

"Didn't expect to see you here," he said, his tone low and curious, his gaze drifting over my body with a lingering intensity. It felt like his eyes were tracing every curve, every inch of me, which only made my skin prickle with self-consciousness.

I forced myself to smile. "I could say the same. I wasn't expecting to bump into the man who fired me either." The sarcasm slipped out before I could stop it, but it was too late. It was better to play it cool, right?

Damian's lips tightened, but he didn't respond. His face remained impassive like he was accustomed to this kind of tension. It didn't help that I still remembered the way his gaze had hardened when I'd spilled coffee on him at the gala. The sheer coldness with which he dismissed me had been like a slap to the face.

Before either of us could speak again, an older man approached us, and Damian straightened. "Dad," Damian greeted him, his voice softening slightly.

I glanced at the man and blinked in recognition. Richard Greyson. Damian's father.

He extended his hand toward me with a warm smile. "You must be Maya Evans. I've heard so much about you."

I shook his hand, surprised by how genuine his warmth felt. "It's a pleasure, Mr. Greyson."

"Oh, none of that formal stuff, please," he said, chuckling. "Call me Richard. I'm the one who should be thanking you for the opportunity to own your beautiful pieces."

I felt my heart flutter. "You're welcome. I'm just happy they're going to a good home."

"I think we'll be making more purchases in the future," Richard said. "Perhaps even a commission. What do you think, son?"

He turned to Damian, who didn't seem to react at all. Instead, he glanced at me for a brief moment, as if weighing the situation.

"Well, it's not really my call," Damian replied in his usual detached tone. "But if it aligns with the company's vision..." He trailed off, clearly uninterested.

I wanted to roll my eyes. No surprise there. Damian Greyson didn't give a damn about my work.

Richard, on the other hand, didn't miss a beat. "We'd like to commission you for a mural in our lobby. Something to really make a statement. Are you interested?"

The proposal was so unexpected, I almost choked on my breath. "A mural?" I echoed, feeling a surge of excitement, quickly followed by anxiety. A large-scale project was more than I had ever imagined doing.

Richard nodded eagerly. "Yes, exactly. Something bold, creative, and in line with the energy here. We're looking for something that captures not just art, but progress."

I glanced at Damian, unsure of his opinion. But he had already turned away, pulling out his phone.

"You'd have creative freedom," Richard added, oblivious to Damian's disinterest. "Think about it, Maya. Your work could be showcased to hundreds of people every day."

My pulse quickened. A mural at Steele Tower? That was beyond anything I had ever dreamed of. I could already see the opportunity-money, exposure, and maybe even a chance to prove myself to someone who had underestimated me.

"I'd be honored," I said before I could second-guess myself. "I'd love to discuss the details."

---

**Damian's POV**

I stood to the side, listening to my father gush over Maya's work. She had a presence about her that I couldn't ignore, but I wasn't about to admit it-not to myself, not to anyone. She had been nothing but trouble the last time we crossed paths, and yet now, my father seemed entirely captivated by her, practically planning her future in our corporate headquarters.

The idea of having her mural in our building interested me. I wasn't sure why. Maybe it was the way she had fired back at me with that sarcastic comment, or maybe it was the inexplicable pull I felt when our eyes met.

I couldn't let it cloud my judgment.

"Damian?" Dad asked, snapping me out of my thoughts. "What do you think? It's a big opportunity for Maya, and I think it could be a good investment for the company."

I didn't look at Maya as I answered. "If it fits within the budget and meets the company's brand," I replied. "But I'll let my assistant handle the logistics."

I saw dad's face light up. He loved the idea, and I could tell he wasn't about to let me spoil it.

"Great! I'll have the team contact you, Maya. It'll be exciting to see what you can come up with," Richard said, completely ignoring the fact that I hadn't agreed to anything.

---

**Maya's POV**

As Damian turned away, my heart started to race again. His indifference was clear, but I couldn't shake the feeling that he was still keeping an eye on me, even when he was pretending not to care.

I pulled my phone out, distracted, and saw a message from Liam.

*Liam: Just heard you got the commission. I knew you had it in you.*

I smiled, relieved by the familiar warmth of his words. It was nice to have someone who believed in me.

The gallery event had been overwhelming, but at least it seemed like things were starting to fall into place. My career, the mural, and even my rent-everything was looking up for the first time in weeks.

Just then, I noticed James entering the gallery with his boyfriend, Daniel. I waved them over, and they approached, their smiles infectious.

"Well, well," James said with a grin. "Looks like someone's going places."

"I'm trying to keep it together," I laughed.

"I'm proud of you," Daniel added, squeezing my shoulder. "This mural could change everything for you."

My heart swelled with gratitude for their support, but even as I smiled, my mind kept drifting back to Damian. Why did I care so much about his opinion?

---

Just then, my phone buzzed again, and I glanced down.

It was another message from an unknown number.

*Damian: I expect you to deliver something that impresses me.*

I stared at the screen, the words sending an unexpected surge of adrenaline through me.

What did he want from me? Why did he always make everything feel like a challenge?

I closed my phone, my thoughts a mess. But one thing was clear: this mural project was more than just a job. It was a test.

And I wasn't about to fail.

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