When I went downstairs to the kitchen, I sat on a chair and watched him cook. He was singing while preparing the food, and I thought it was cute. I smiled a little and approached him from behind to see if it was ready. The moment I got close, he turned his head, and our faces were inches apart. My heartbeat quickened. I blushed, immediately stepping back to sit at the table.
"Is the food ready yet?…" I asked, trying to avoid eye contact. The awkwardness was unbearable—I wanted to disappear.
"Here you go," he said, placing the plate in front of me. He leaned in so close that our eyes met. "Tell me if you need anything," he added in a deep voice.
It was only after I finished eating that I realized he hadn't touched any food. Naturally, I asked, "Why aren't you eating?"
"Don't eat breakfast," he answered quickly and with an unusual confidence. Something about the way he spoke felt off—too sure, too fast.
"Got it… well, what am I going to do today? Any work for me? Do I need to check on any events?"
"No. Not today," he said. Then, after a pause, "I need your help with something else. I have an event at 7 PM tonight. You know what kind of event it is, right? An opening for a new company… owned by someone who is, let's just say, not a great friend of mine."
He sighed. "Long story short, I need you to be my partner this evening. Just to make it look like we're dating. Nothing more."
I blinked, confused. "Why don't you take another girl?"
"Because people have already seen you with me. It would look strange if I suddenly showed up with someone else. Besides," he added, his voice a little lower, "I'm not interested in other women."
My eyes widened before I quickly masked my reaction. But then a smirk tugged at my lips.Did that mean he was interested in me? What else could he possibly mean by that? My thoughts spun so fast that my head started hurting.
"AGHhh fine! Will I get paid for it?" I asked, crossing my arms.
He chuckled, shaking his head. "Is food enough to keep you interested in this job?"
"You know too much…"
I struggled to tie the dress at my back, frustration growing. The trees outside rustled loudly in the warm autumn wind, the sound oddly irritating.
"Agh… how do you even tie this dress? And who the hell bought it?!"
I caught sight of him standing in the doorway, watching me. It made me a little angry.
"Are you going to help me, or do you just enjoy watching me suffer?" I teased, smirking as I stood in front of the mirror, still holding the ties.
He walked closer, gently pulling me toward him before taking the fabric into his hands. His touch was so careful that it almost felt like it wasn't him.
"A little tighter. Why are you being so gentle for no reason?" I muttered, glancing at him in the mirror.
"I don't want to accidentally hurt you, princess," he said softly, tying the dress securely.
Our bodies were so close that I could feel his toned muscles against my back. When he finished, his hands lingered on my hips. He hugged me from behind and whispered in my ear,
"Are you ready for the night?"
I blushed but nodded. "Yes…"
The car ride was mostly silent. I asked him how I should act and what I should say to his friends.
When we arrived, he stepped out first, then offered his hand to help me out of the car. We walked toward the enormous mansion, where countless elegantly dressed guests had already gathered. Women glittered in gowns, and men huddled in groups, talking business.
"Alright," he said, turning to me. "I'll give you some freedom tonight, but you have to promise me something."
I raised a brow, intrigued. "What is it?"
"Have fun. But not with any other guys. Not with ANY man." His voice was firm. "If I see you with one… you don't want to know what will happen."
He then handed me a black silk bow. "Put this in your hair. It'll complete your outfit."
I took it and clipped it to the back of my long, dark hair. It felt heavier than I expected.
Noticing a guard watching us, I decided to play my role better. I leaned in and kissed Damien on the cheek.
The second I pulled back, I saw his confusion—then a smirk.
"Don't test my patience like this, darling…"
"See you in a bit, honey," I teased, walking away into the massive mansion.
He watched me go before heading off in another direction.
I sat with a group of women, listening more than talking. I wasn't part of this world yet. My eyes occasionally wandered to Damien, who was deep in conversation with businessmen—none of whom looked like him. Just overweight, greedy men probably talking about their power.
Midway through the event, a sharp headache struck me. I needed air.
Stepping out onto the balcony, I leaned against the railing, trying to keep myself steady. My mind felt hazy, too light, like the world had turned into a dream.
Footsteps behind me.
Damien.
He reached me in seconds, grabbing my wrist and holding me in place, concern flashing across his face.
"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice unusually urgent. His sharp eyes scanned me for injuries.
"I think… someone drugged me," I murmured, my head spinning.
Inside, the voice of a speaker echoed through the mansion. Glasses clinked, and laughter filled the air. But my mind was slipping away from reality.
Everything suddenly seemed… fun.
Like a game.
And so, I made my move.
I looked up at him with a smirk and whispered, "Kiss me…"
Then, I pressed my lips to his.
The moonlight broke through the clouds, illuminating us as his hands tangled in my hair, holding me close. His touch was firm, possessive.
But then—he pushed me away.
He grabbed my hand, his breathing uneven. "You can't do this right now. You're not yourself."
His voice was strained, but I saw the hunger in his eyes before he looked away.
He wanted me.
I knew it.
The car ride back was silent. I tried kissing him again, but he refused.
"Please stop," he said through clenched teeth. "Don't test me like that. Your influence is too strong to resist."
Then I saw it.
He was… turned on.
I turned my head away and looked out the window. The rain had started, soft drops hitting the glass in a rhythmic pattern. Damien was driving silently, his jaw tense, his grip on the wheel a little too tight—like he was trying to suppress something.
When we finally arrived "home," he seemed… angry. Not furious, but restrained. His movements were sharper, more controlled than usual, and the way he grabbed my hand was almost too rough.
Was it because of what happened at the party? Or… was it because of what I did?
My body felt heavy, exhaustion weighing down on me. Maybe it was the drugs in my system, or maybe I was just drained. Either way, I didn't have the strength to fight back when he dragged me to the front door.
The maid opened it immediately, stepping aside as he led me inside without a word. I followed him without hesitation—not because I trusted him, but because I was too tired to question it.
He brought me straight to my room and all but threw me onto the bed. I barely reacted as he knelt down, taking off my heels with a gentleness that didn't match the aggression from earlier.
"How… did you find me on the balcony?" I mumbled, my voice barely above a whisper.
He didn't hesitate. "The bow had a tracker in it."
My stomach twisted. "Seriously?"
"I gave it to you in case something happened," he admitted, setting my heels aside. "And it did. Are you mad that I got you out of there?"
I was too exhausted to process my emotions.
"No…" I mumbled before my eyes closed, and I drifted into darkness.
The Next Morning
When I woke up, I felt lighter—like the weight of last night had partially lifted. The headache was still there, but it wasn't as sharp.
I sat up slowly, feeling the fabric of my pajamas shift against my skin.
Wait… pajamas?
My heart skipped a beat.
Who changed my clothes?
I hesitantly reached for the back of my head, searching for the bow. It was gone. My gaze darted around the room until I spotted it—neatly placed on the nightstand beside a note.
With slightly shaky fingers, I picked up the paper.
The doctor changed your clothes. When he arrived, you were already asleep. He didn't want to wake you, so he just took your temperature and gave you medicine in case it got worse. You can find it in the bathroom.
I'm in my office. If you need anything, ask me. You can start working again in two days when you feel better.
I exhaled, relief washing over me. So it wasn't him…
Still, something about this whole situation felt off. The way he took care of me, the way he kept me here—it didn't make sense. What was his endgame?
Needing answers, I slipped out of bed, grabbed the note, and made my way down the hall. When I reached his office, I knocked twice.
"Come in," his voice called from inside.
I pushed open the door and walked in, finding him behind his desk, focused on some paperwork. He looked serious, sharp—like the ruthless businessman he was. But the moment he looked up and saw me, his expression softened slightly.
A small chuckle escaped his lips. "You're alive."
I rolled my eyes and walked toward the couch near his desk, sinking into it. Watching him work, I felt my face start to heat up as last night's events came rushing back. The party. The kiss. The way I practically threw myself at him.
God, I was so embarrassed.
I swallowed hard and blurted, "I'm sorry for what I did last night. I… I wasn't myself."
He didn't even glance up from his work.
"Don't know what you're talking about."
I blinked. What.
Was he serious? He was really going to act like nothing happened?
Frustration bubbled inside me. "You idiot. Don't play innocent. You know exactly what I'm talking about."
I stood up, walking over to his desk, my eyes narrowing at him.
He finally looked up, and before I could say anything else, he grabbed the front of my shirt and pulled me toward him—his lips crashing onto mine.
My breath hitched as his kiss was nothing like last night's. This one was rough, teasing. He bit my lip, challenging me, testing me.
I bit back. Hard.
The sharp taste of blood hit my tongue as I pushed him away, my chest rising and falling rapidly.
He touched his lip, wiping away the blood with his thumb, and smirked. "1-1."
I stared at him in disbelief.
"WHAT WAS THAT?!" I shouted, my voice filled with anger, embarrassment, and something else I wasn't ready to name.
He just leaned back in his chair, looking completely unbothered.
"So, what did you actually come here for?" he asked, his tone laced with amusement. "Or did you just miss me?"
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I came to annoy you, but apparently, you annoy me more than I do you."
I sat back down, crossing my arms. "You said I could start working again in two days when I feel better, but I feel fine now. There's no reason for me to sit around and do nothing."
His smirk faded. "It's fine. I'll allow you to skip some days."
That pissed me off.
I wanted to work. I needed to make money. And yet, he was controlling everything. Again.
What was his deal? Why was he keeping me here but also taking care of me? Why did he act like I was important to him, yet he still treated me like a possession?
Did he actually like me… or was I just reading too much into it?
So many questions.
Not enough answers.