Chapter Seven
I sat paralyzed in my chair, Damien's words hanging over me.
"You're coming."
It wasn't a request. It wasn't up for debate.
It was an order.
I opened my mouth, preparing for an argument, but the expression in his eyes dared me to attempt it.
The air between us crackled, charged, as if we were on opposite sides of a battlefield.
I put my hand over my mouth, clutching at the edges of the folder he had given me. "I don't understand why I have to be there."
Damien smirked as though he knew I would resist. "Because, Elena, you work for me."
I clenched my jaw. "You already have assistants to do these things."
"True," he said, drumming his fingers on the desk. "But none of them fascinate me the way you do."
My stomach flipped.
Something in the way he said it so calm, so confident rippled through me with heat.
I shifted in my seat. "I don't want to go."
Damien's smirk didn't fade. "I don't care."
Kinsella's bluntness was aggravating.
I breathed out with exasperation, holding the folder in my hand firmly. "Damien—"
"Elena." His voice dropped lower, smoother. More dangerous. "It wasn't a request."
I swallowed.
He was enjoying this. Enjoying watching me squirm.
Damien Blackwood was a man who did what he wanted, when he wanted. And he wanted me at that gala right now.
That was not going to change based on anything I said.
I bit my lip. "And if I refuse?"
His eyes darkened.
Something changed in the air, slow, seemingly dreamy tension wrapping around us like a wire drawn tight.
"Then I'll do everything to make it very hard for you."
A chill ran down my spine.
I believed him.
Damien did not make threats lightly.
He wasn't the sort to just let things go.
He was relentless.
And I knew, with absolute certainty, that if I were to say no, he would find a way to tear me down until I caved.
I took a slow breath, clutching my skirt. "Fine."
Damien's smirk widened, victorious. "Good girl."
A shiver ran through me.
I hated how those two words made my stomach clench.
I stood up suddenly, grabbed the folder off the desk. "I have work to do."
Damien laughed, but he didn't try to stop me when I turned and stalked out of his office.
But as the door fell behind me, my heart still racing in my chest, I realized something terrifying.
I was no longer just stranded in this job.
I was trapped with him.
Later that evening…
When I returned home, the dress was back, waiting for me.
It was hanging pristine in a black garment bag, a note attached.
Wear this. Be ready by eight. - D
I looked down at the card and felt my fingers tense around the edge.
Damien Blackwood was spectacular.
I jerked the zipper all the way down, full of annoyance. But the second I laid eyes on the dress, my breath caught.
It was stunning.
A dark midnight blue silk gown, the fabric pooling at the hem, the neckline dipping low enough to be dangerous.
It was elegant. Expensive.
And it felt so very out of place in my tiny, decaying apartment.
I swallowed hard.
This wasn't me.
I didn't wear dresses like that; I didn't go to fancy galas; I didn't stand next to men like Damien Blackwood.
But that is irrelevant now.
Because tonight, I had no choice.
I stood in front of my bathroom mirror, looking at the reflection of me like a stranger.
The dress fit perfectly.
Too perfect.
The midnight blue silk clung to my curves in all the right places, the fabric smooth and cool against my skin. The neckline plunged just low enough to suggest danger, the back bared in a way that contracted my stomach.
It wasn't me.
I looked like I fit into Damien Blackwood's life — like I was someone polished, elegant, expensive.
But I wasn't.
I swallowed hard and felt my pulse flutter as my fingers skimmed over the dress.
This wasn't just an outfit.
It was a statement.
Damien had done this purposely, shaping me into something that belonged in his world.
Something that was his.
I was jolted from my thoughts by a knock at my door.
I gasped, breathless, my heart thudding against my ribs.
It was too early for Liam to reappear — wasn't it?
I took a shuddering breath, made my way to the door, heels clicking against the scuffed floorboards. I held off on opening it, fingers cupping the handle.
Damien was on the other side.
My breath caught.
He looked different tonight.
Not that he wasn't as polished as ever, as intimidating in his tailored suits.
But this was different.
The black tuxedo was tailored on him, the crisp white shirt underneath embossing the handsome dark engraved hair. His jaw was smooth and clean, his icy blue eyes assessing me as if he was cataloging every inch of me.
I suddenly felt too exposed.
Too seen.
His eyes traveled down my body, deliberately slowly, before returning to my own.
For a long moment he did not speak.
Then, at last, his mouth formed what could have been a smile."
"I was right," he murmured.
I frowned. "About what?"
The hallway light reflected in his eyes. "You clean up nicely."
Heat flushed up my spine.
I swallowed, straining to glower at him. "Am I supposed to thank you for making me look like a doll?"
Damien smirked. "No. Accept that you're standing in my world now."
My stomach tightened.
I hated that he was right.
It was a dress he'd picked, and I hated that I was standing there in it, about to go to an event I hadn't wanted to attend, next to a man who was far too dangerous.
I inhaled sharply. "Let's just get this done."
Damien chuckled. "Eager, are we?"
I rolled my eyes and pushed past him out into the night air.
But as soon as I did, my breath caught.
An unmarked black sedan idled at the curb, shining harvest gold in the streetlights.
The driver remained by the door, waiting silently.
Damien walked by me, opening the door by himself. He turned slightly, challenging me with his eyes to say no.
I hesitated.
This felt like a trap.
Looks like how the instant I walked in, I'd be giving something up.
But I had no choice.
I stuck my chin up and slipped into the car.
The door clicked closed behind me.
And just like that, I was sucked into Damien Blackwood's world.
The Gala
The ballroom was stunning.
Golden chandeliers illuminated a wave of guests while soft classical music wafted through the air. Expensive suits. Glittering dresses. Wealth, power, control—it was all around.
I suddenly felt small.
Like I didn't belong.
And Damien walked next to me, tall and assertive, with his hand placed on the small of my back.
I stiffened.
He didn't press, didn't push.
But the intent was to touch it.
A claim.
I swallowed and did my best to loosen my body.
I could do this.
All I had to do was make it through the night.
The instant we crossed into the crowd, our heads jerked.
People whispered.
Women were eyeing Damien hungrily, their gazes sliding over to me in curiosity… and annoyance.
I wasn't stupid.
I knew what they were going to be thinking.
Who is she?
What is she doing with Damien Blackwood?
I clenched my teeth and raised my chin.
They could look all they wanted.
I was not about to let them see me break.
"Relax," Damien said, his lips too close to my ear.
I swallowed. "I am relaxed."
He smirked like he didn't believe me.
He straightened just as a guy walked up to us, and he oozed authority.
Tall. Older. Silver-streaked hair.
His steel blue eyes were a spitting image of Damien's.
My stomach dropped.
This had to be
"Father," Damien said smoothly.
His father.
Oh, God.
The older man's eyes darted towards me, sizing me up.
Then he extended a hand. "I understand my son has a guest, here. You are?"
I thought twice before shaking his hand. "Elena Carter."
His grip was firm. Unyielding.
"And you," he said, without warmth.
I suddenly had the sense of being judged.
Like this man was already dissecting me, determining what utility I had in his son's world.
I forced a smile. "Likewise."
It held for a beat longer, before he finally glanced back at Damien.
"I take it you'll be managing the merger details?"
Damien nodded. "Of course."
His father's lips thinned to a line. "Good. We don't need to be distracted."
Before he walked away, his eyes landed on me one last time.
My pulse skittered as I exhaled.
That was… uncomfortable.
"Your father sounds charming," I muttered.
Damien chuckled. "He's bearable, some of the time."
I furrowed my brow, but before I had a chance to inquire further, a woman came up.
Blonde. Strikingly beautiful.
And how she looked at Damien turned my stomach.
"Damien," she purred, moving much too close.
Damien's smirk hardly moved. "Victoria."
Victoria's gaze darted towards me, and her expression went frosty.
"And are you?"
I hated the way she said it. Like I was insignificant.
Like I didn't matter.
"Elena," I said tightly.
Her lips curved. "Oh. The new assistant."
I bristled.
I wasn't quite sure why that bothered me.
But before I could do anything, Damien's hand rested on my lower back.
"Not just a helper," he said quietly.
My breath caught.
Victoria stiffened.
Her sharp green eyes darted back and forth between the two of us, something cold passing over her face.
Then she smiled, and it did not reach her eyes. "Of course."
She drank from her glass of champagne, eyeing Damien.
"I'll see you later," she said softly, and walked off.
The instant she left, I looked at Damien, my heart racing.
"What was that?" I whispered.
Damien's smirk deepened.
"A statement."
A claim.
And suddenly, it dawned on me.
The stakes were no longer just imagined.
I was in danger.