For Demon, walking into his office shouldn't have given him any cause for concern. He owned his own business and took pride in the work he did. His suit was pressed. He looked at every part of the dominating man that he was.

The receptionist smiled at him. He knew she wanted a piece of him. Most women did. At thirty-nine he wasn't looking for a casual relationship. When he needed s*x, he called one of his many women to accommodate him. He never mixed business with pleasure, and there would be no way he'd take a woman from the office home. His tastes ran to the extreme, and he liked to keep his private life private.

Ignoring the woman, he moved past the visitors' area and went straight to the elevator. Briefcase in hand, he stood alone as it traveled up to the top floor. The doors opened.

He stopped. Standing outside the elevator door stood a woman. Smaller than he, she would only come to his***. She didn't look at him. Her eyes stared at the floor. Demon felt like he'd been punched in the gut. Her brown hair was tucked into a long ponytail. Men walked behind her, and he noted the stares she was getting. He glanced up and down the corridor.

She looked up, and he fell hard. It was like all of his tomorrows were rolled up into one package. The woman standing before him was the one. He knew it more than he knew what he wanted to eat for lunch.

"A-are you getting off?" she asked.

Staring at her lips, Demon heard her voice, but her words didn't register.

"What's your name?" he asked.

The woman, his soul mate, stared at him, baffled. Was this what people meant when they said they fell in love at first sight?

"I don't give my name to strangers," she said.

"He's not a stranger, honey. He's the boss," a woman said as she passed. He saw the change***, the blush staining her cheeks and the top part of her breast exposed from the white blouse she wore. As his gaze traveled down her body, he noted other parts of her just as stunning as her face. She had the type of body he***associated with the classic fifties' movie stars. All curves. Nothing straight or bony about her. Her boobs were large, and he saw the beginning of her nipples poking out of the top. The blouse was tucked into her pencil skirt outlining her tiny waist and flaring out at the ass. His mouth watered thinking about getting his hands wrapped around her body.

"My name is Violet Moore, sir," she said as she pushed the cart into the elevator

"Where do you need to go?" he asked, not wanting to ruin the moment with her. Or leave her alone.

"Bottom, please." She spoke quietly. He had to strain to hear her.

"You mean ground floor?"

"Yes."

He stood in the cart and stared at her. For most of his life, he'd seen the way his father reacted to his mother. Coming to alert whenever she entered a room. As if his life was somehow connected with hers. Their deaths had been hard to deal with. Their strength had been something Demon had grown up within. Taking over Ashwood Enterprise had been expected. Doing it without his father present hadn't been his plan.

"How long have you been working here?"

"A couple of weeks."

Getting her to speak was challenging. Usually, women fawned all over him wanting to get their point across.

"Do you like working here?"

"Yes."

The lights on the elevator went down with each floor they passed. Her hands fisted on the bar of the mail trolley.

All too soon the elevator opened, and she left. He stood watching her walk away. She didn't look back. Pressing the button to take him back to the top floor, he went straight to his office.

He called personnel to send him the file on Violet Moore. Within seconds her file was in his inbox and Demon was reading and relishing every last-minute piece of information. Closing his eyes, he stared at her age. He was nineteen years older than she. The age didn't matter. He stared at her picture. Unlike the other employees who'd smiled, Violet didn't offer a smile. She stood staring at the camera, looking like she was going to scarper.

From looking at her picture he knew her life had been hard. He sat and stared at her picture for hours, his cock tight. When he'd walked into work, he'd never expected to find the woman who would complete him.

There was no mistaking his reaction to her, the possession he felt. Even when the men on his floor were looking at her ass, he'd felt the heat rise up inside him. Violet Moore was his woman.

Running his fingers through his hair, Demon knew it would only be a matter of time until he had her. Placing her file in his secured mailbox, he began work. The blinds to his office were up for him to see on the floor.

Around lunchtime he spotted her again, handing out coffee, this time. The irony wasn't lost on him. He'd never mix business with pleasure. Yet, the woman he knew who was his with absolute certainty was serving coffee.

No matter how long it took, Violet Moore would be his.

He would own her, possess her.

Violet Moore would be his possession.

Demon liked the sound of that.

Chapter One

One Year Later

Violet Moore stared at the office door as if it was a monster that would lash out and bite her. At twenty-one, she'd seen more crap than any human being should have to face. Her hands shook, and her entire body trembled. She'd been called to her boss's office with no reason as to why he wanted to see her.

She worked in delivering coffee and making sure every person got their mail on time. There was nothing hard about her work, but she liked the constant flow of doing the same thing over and over again.

"Come in," he called. At the first twist, the door wouldn't open. She shoved her shoulder against the door, and still, the wooden door wouldn't move. "I said come in."

"I can't. The door won't budge." On the last word, the door swung open, and she went careening into the hard masculine chest of her boss, Demon Ashwood. "I'm sorry," she muttered and pulled herself up and away from him.

Several times she'd ended up alone in his company, and he still managed to make her feel uncomfortable.

"Don't be. I'll get the door looked at. Sit." He moved away and sat behind his desk once again.

Tucking her dull brown hair behind her ear, she went and sat in the chair opposite him.

After he sat down, she watched as he picked up a folder, her folder, and began reading. The silence unnerved her. She had never been alone with him inside his office before. During her interview, his female personal assistant had sat in.

"You know why I called you up here today?" he asked. Violet gave him her full attention. Around the office, she'd heard women swoon after the boss. He was older than she. At least in his forties, she'd***used. His hair was dark, with no shades of grey. His eyes were green, and his body large and well built. She didn't usually take notice of men, but over time she considered seeing which one was a threat and which ones weren't. Her mother had warned her about them from a young age.

"N-no," she said, cursing herself as her stammer returned. Whenever she was nervous she found she had difficulty with her words.

"You have no clue at all?"

She tried to think of something that could be amiss with her performance, but she was drawing a blank. "I don't know, Mr. Ashwood. No one has ever complained about my performance, and I make sure everyone gets what they need." Violet couldn't lose this job. She needed the income to help pay for all the college debts she had accumulated over the years.