The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, revealing the top floor of Steele Industries. Elena stepped out, clutching her bag so tightly that her knuckles turned white. The air felt different up here, colder, heavier, as if it carried Damien Steele's commanding presence.
She glanced at the sleek decor: glass walls, minimalist furniture, and an enormous portrait of Damien gazing out over the lobby like a king surveying his empire. Her stomach churned.
"This is a mistake," she muttered to herself. "I'll apologize, explain, and—"
"Miss Blake."
The deep, familiar voice sliced through her thoughts. She turned to find Damien standing by the door to his office, dressed in a charcoal suit that fit him like a second skin. His expression was as unreadable as ever, but his piercing blue eyes pinned her in place.
"You're late," he said.
Elena blinked, glancing at her watch. "But it's 8:59—"
"I said to be here at eight fifty-five."
Her cheeks burned. "I—sorry."
"Don't apologize," he said, his tone clipped. "Just follow me."
He turned and strode into his office without waiting for her response. Swallowing her nerves, Elena followed.
The office was massive, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of the city skyline. A sleek black desk sat in the center, flanked by leather chairs. Damien moved behind it, his presence dominating the space as he gestured for her to sit.
She perched on the edge of the chair, her hands fidgeting in her lap.
"Let's establish the rules," Damien began, his voice calm but firm. "You owe me one million dollars. Until that debt is repaid, you'll work exclusively for me. No quitting, no excuses."
Elena's throat tightened. "How…how long will it take to repay that?"
He leaned back in his chair, his gaze sharp. "That depends on you. Your salary will be deducted to cover the debt. Work hard, and you'll get there faster."
Her heart sank. "And what exactly will I be doing?"
His lips curved into a smirk that sent a shiver down her spine. "Anything I ask."
Her eyes widened. "Anything?"
"Within legal limits," he clarified, though his tone suggested he enjoyed her discomfort. "You'll assist me personally, handle errands, and occasionally deal with tasks no one else is willing to take on. Consider it…paying your penance."
Elena clenched her fists. "This feels more like punishment than a job."
"It's both," Damien said simply. "You damaged something priceless. This is the price you pay."
Before she could respond, the intercom buzzed.
"Mr. Steele, the Tokyo clients are on the line," his assistant's voice announced.
"Tell them to wait," Damien replied, his eyes never leaving Elena's.
The audacity of making billion-dollar clients wait to toy with her made her blood boil. "Look, I didn't mean to ruin your painting," she said, her voice rising slightly. "It was an accident. I'm sorry, but this, this feels like overkill."
Damien arched an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. "Are you in a position to negotiate, Miss Blake?"
She opened her mouth to argue but snapped it shut. He was right. She was completely at his mercy.
"Thought so," he said, his tone triumphant.
Elena's nails dug into her palms. "Fine. What's my first task?"
Damien stood, towering over her as he handed her a folder. "Inside, you'll find a list of my engagements for the week. You'll accompany me to all of them, take notes, and ensure everything runs smoothly."
She flipped through the folder, her heart sinking at the packed schedule. Gala dinners, business meetings, charity auctions, each event more intimidating than the last.
"I don't even own the kind of clothes I'd need for these events," she said.
Damien's smirk returned. "That's already been handled. My assistant, Rachel, will take you shopping after this meeting."
Her eyes narrowed. "You planned all of this before I even agreed?"
"I knew you'd come," he said simply.
The arrogance of his words left her momentarily speechless.
"You can leave now," Damien said, dismissing her with a wave of his hand.
Anger flared in Elena's chest, but she swallowed it down. "Fine. But I'm not your puppet," she muttered under her breath as she stood.
"What was that?" Damien asked, his tone sharp.
"Nothing," she said quickly, turning on her heel and heading for the door.
As she left, she could feel his gaze burning into her back, a mix of amusement and something darker.
That evening, as Elena lay in bed, scrolling through her phone, a notification popped up. Her name was trending.
Curious, she opened the article.
"Elena Blake, Damien Steele's new pet project?"
Her blood ran cold as she read the speculation about her "relationship" with the billionaire. The photos from the gala—her on the floor, Damien towering over her—were plastered everywhere.
"What have I gotten myself into?" she whispered, dread pooling in her stomach.