Elena's apartment felt like it had shrunk to half its size under Damien Blackwell's intense gaze. He loomed over her, a shadow of power and intimidation, and she hated how small and exposed she felt. Her sketchpad, once her shield, now seemed pathetic in the face of his piercing grey eyes.
"What exactly does 'cooperation' mean?" Elena demanded, trying to muster some semblance of defiance. Her voice cracked slightly, but she held his gaze.
"It means you're going to help me ensure that nothing you overheard becomes a problem," Damien replied smoothly, his tone like a blade wrapped in silk. "And in return, I'll see to it that you continue to live your life... uninterrupted."
Her stomach churned at his choice of words. "That sounds an awful lot like a threat."
"It's not a threat," he said, stepping even closer. "It's a fact."
The air between them crackled with tension. Elena wanted to argue, to tell him to get out of her apartment and her life, but she knew better. Men like Damien didn't play by the same rules as everyone else. Whatever she'd stumbled into last night, it was bigger than she could have imagined.
"Fine," she said finally, her voice tight. "What do you want me to do?"
Damien's lips curled into a small, triumphant smile. "Smart choice. For now, I want you to come with me."
Her brows shot up. "Come with you? Where?"
"You'll see," he said simply. "You have five minutes to get ready."
Elena stared at him, her heart racing. "You're serious."
"I'm always serious," Damien replied. "Now, move."
The sleek black car idled at the curb as Damien opened the door and gestured for Elena to get in. She hesitated for a moment, weighing her options, but the silent, imposing figure of Marcus standing nearby made it clear she didn't have much of a choice.
Sliding into the plush leather seat, she felt a strange sense of unease. This wasn't her world—luxury cars, powerful men, and veiled threats. She glanced at Damien as he settled in beside her, his expression unreadable.
"Where are we going?" she asked, breaking the silence.
"To my office," Damien replied, his gaze fixed out the window. "There are some things you need to understand."
Elena frowned. "Like what?"
"You'll find out when we get there," he said dismissively. "For now, sit back and be quiet."
Her jaw clenched at his commanding tone, but she bit back a retort. Fighting with Damien Blackwell didn't seem like a winning strategy. Instead, she focused on the cityscape rushing past, her mind racing with questions and fears.
The Blackwell Industries building loomed like a steel-and-glass fortress against the night sky. As the car pulled into a private underground garage, Elena felt a fresh wave of nerves. Whatever Damien had planned for her, it was happening here.
Marcus led the way through a private elevator that whisked them to the top floor. The doors opened to reveal an office that was both stunning and intimidating. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the city, while sleek furniture and dark wood accents exuded power and sophistication.
"Sit," Damien said, gesturing to a chair in front of his massive desk.
Elena sat, her hands gripping the arms of the chair as she watched Damien take his place behind the desk. He leaned back, steepling his fingers as he studied her.
"What happened last night," he began, his voice low and measured, "is a situation I can't afford to ignore. You overheard a conversation about a deal that involves significant risks."
"I didn't understand any of it," Elena said quickly. "I don't even know what you're talking about."
"Whether you understood it or not is irrelevant," Damien said sharply. "The fact is, you were there. And if anyone finds out about that conversation, they'll come after you."
Her eyes widened. "What do you mean, 'come after me'?"
"I mean," Damien said, his voice deadly calm, "you could become a target."
Elena's pulse quickened. "Are you saying I'm in danger?"
"Yes," Damien said bluntly. "And that's why I need to keep you close. For your own safety."
The room fell into a tense silence as his words sank in. Elena's mind raced. How had her life spiraled so far out of control in less than twenty-four hours?
"And what happens if I refuse?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Damien's expression hardened. "You won't. You're smarter than that."
Before Elena could respond, the door to the office burst open, and a man in a tailored suit stormed in. His face was flushed with anger, and he ignored Elena completely as he marched up to Damien's desk.
"We have a problem," the man said urgently, slamming a folder onto the desk.
Damien's jaw tightened as he opened the folder and scanned its contents. His eyes darkened, and for the first time since she'd met him, Elena saw something that looked like genuine fury flash across his face.
"Leave," Damien said to the man, his tone cold and clipped. The man hesitated for a moment before nodding and retreating from the room.
Elena's curiosity burned, but before she could ask what was in the folder, Damien looked up at her, his gaze sharp and calculating.
"Looks like your timing couldn't be worse, Miss Cruz," he said. "Things just got a lot more complicated."