Ella awoke with a groan, the sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows a harsh contrast to the pounding in her head. She blinked, her vision slowly focusing on the opulent surroundings. This wasn't her cramped studio apartment. This was... a hotel suite? A very expensive one, judging by the plush furnishings and panoramic city views.
Memories of the previous night flooded back in a jumbled mess. The betrayal, the bar, the drinks... and Damien Stone. Heat crept up her neck as she recalled her drunken accusations, the spilled drink, the way she'd collapsed into his arms.
Oh god, what have I done? She buried her face in the silk pillow, mortified. How could she face him after making such a fool of herself?
With a surge of adrenaline, Ella bolted upright, her heart pounding. She scanned the room, searching for any sign of Damien Stone. Where was he? Had he left her here alone to deal with the consequences of her drunken outburst?
Panic surged through her as she scrambled out of the king-sized bed, the silk sheets tangling around her legs. She stumbled, her balance still compromised by the remnants of alcohol in her system, and landed in a heap on the plush carpet.
A deep chuckle echoed from the doorway. Ella's head snapped up, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. Damien Stone leaned against the frame, a mug of coffee in his hand. He was dressed impeccably in a tailored suit, his dark hair perfectly styled, a stark contrast to her own disheveled state.
"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," he said, his voice smooth as velvet. "Or should I say, Cinderella?"
Ella winced at the reminder of her less-than-graceful exit from the bar. "I... I don't know what to say," she stammered, struggling to untangle herself from the sheets.
Damien raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement dancing in his silver eyes. "How about 'thank you'? Or perhaps an apology for drenching my bartender in cheap whiskey?"
Ella's face burned even hotter. "I'm so sorry," she mumbled, finally managing to stand up. "I don't... I wasn't myself last night."
"Clearly," Damien said, his lips curving into a faint smile. "But don't worry, the bartender's a good sport. He's used to dealing with... colorful patrons."
Ella couldn't help but notice the way his gaze lingered on her, taking in her rumpled clothes and tear-stained face. She felt exposed, vulnerable, like a painting laid bare for his critique.
"I... I should go," she said, her voice barely a whisper.
Damien straightened, his expression turning serious. "Not yet," he said, stepping into the room. "We need to talk."
Ella's heart skipped a beat. What did he want to talk about? Was he going to demand compensation for the spilled drink? Or worse, report her to the authorities for her drunken outburst?
She braced herself for the worst, but Damien's next words surprised her.
Ella's eyes widened. "I... I don't understand." She clutched the silk sheets tighter around her, a flimsy shield against his scrutiny.
Damien took a sip of his coffee, his gaze never leaving hers. "You have fire, Miss Montgomery. A passion that burns bright, even when it's drenched in whiskey."
Ella felt a flicker of hope. Maybe he wasn't going to reprimand her. Maybe... maybe he saw something in her, something beyond the drunken mess she'd been last night.
"I'm an artist," she said, her voice gaining a newfound strength. "I create. I feel. It's who I am."
Damien nodded slowly. "I know," he said. "And I think you're capable of much more than you realize."
Ella's brow furrowed. "How do you know my name?" The question slipped out before she could stop herself.
A ghost of a smile touched Damien's lips. "I make it my business to know about the people who disrupt my establishments," he said, his voice laced with a hint of amusement. "Especially when they accuse me of enabling their ex-boyfriend's infidelity."
Ella's cheeks flushed. "I... I'm so sorry about that," she stammered. "I didn't mean..."
"To throw a drink at my bartender?" Damien finished for her, his smile widening. "No, I don't think you did. But you certainly meant every word you said about Daniel and... Amelia, was it?"
Ella nodded, her eyes downcast. The shame of the previous night washed over her again.
"They're not worth your tears, Miss Montgomery," Damien said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "Or your whiskey, for that matter."
Ella looked up, surprised by his empathy. "You don't know them," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "They were... they were supposed to be my family."
Damien's expression softened. "Sometimes," he said, "the people we think are our family turn out to be the ones who hurt us the most."
His words struck a chord within Ella. She'd always believed in the power of love, in the bonds of friendship. But now, those beliefs lay shattered at her feet.
"What am I going to do?" she asked, her voice cracking. "I have nothing left."
Damien crossed the room, his footsteps silent on the plush carpet. He stopped in front of her, his towering presence both intimidating and strangely comforting.
"You have your talent, Miss Montgomery," he said, his gaze intense. "Your passion. Your fire. And I have a proposition for you."
Ella's heart pounded in her chest. A proposition? From Damien Stone? What could he possibly want from her?
"A proposition?" she echoed, her voice trembling slightly.
Damien nodded, his expression unreadable. "Tonight, there's a welcome party for Thompson Innovations. Your... ex-boyfriend's company."
Ella flinched at the mention of Daniel's name. The thought of facing him, of seeing him and Amelia together, made her stomach clench.
"I... I don't think I can," she said, her voice barely a whisper.
Damien's lips curled into a knowing smile. "I didn't expect you to jump at the opportunity," he said. "But hear me out."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over her, taking in her disheveled appearance and the vulnerability etched on her face.
"Tonight," he continued, his voice low and persuasive, "you have a chance to reclaim your power. To show them that you're not broken, that you won't be defined by their betrayal."
Ella's eyes met his, a spark of defiance igniting within her.
"I want you to come to that party with me," Damien said, his voice firm. "Stand next to me. Make them regret everything."
The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken promises and hidden desires. Ella's mind raced, torn between the fear of facing her past and the allure of revenge.
"Why?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why would you do this for me?"
Damien shrugged, his expression carefully neutral. "Call it a business investment," he said. "Or perhaps... a personal interest."
Ella's heart hammered against her ribs. A personal interest? In her? The thought was both terrifying and exhilarating.
"I don't know," she said, her voice trembling. "I'm not sure I'm ready."
Damien stepped closer, his gaze intense. "You don't have to be ready," he said, his voice a low caress. "Just trust me."
He extended his hand, his fingers long and elegant. Ella hesitated, her mind a battleground of conflicting emotions. But then, she remembered Daniel's cruel laughter, Amelia's venomous words. She remembered the pain, the betrayal, the shattered dreams.
With a surge of newfound determination, Ella reached out and took Damien's hand.
"Alright," she said, her voice steady. "I'll do it."
A flicker of triumph crossed Damien's face. "Good," he said, his grip tightening on her hand. "Then let's get you ready for war."