Damian Wolfe
People say power is intoxicating.
They're wrong.
Power doesn't intoxicate. It devours.
It silences rooms before you speak. It wraps around your throat like silk—and chokes you when you forget who you are. I've never forgotten.
At twenty-nine, I've buried more deals than I've signed, ruined more men than I've hired, and left more women gasping than I can remember. Not out of cruelty. Out of nature. You don't ask the wolf why he bites.
The boardroom was too quiet this morning. I liked it that way. Fear was good. Familiar. Predictable.
"Mr. Wolfe?" Jasper, my assistant, hovered at the door like a man debating survival.
"Yes?" I didn't look up from the folder I was reviewing—a three-hundred-million-dollar acquisition that I could have negotiated in my sleep.
"There's… a woman here to see you. No appointment."
"Then send her out. Unless I forgot I run a charity."
"She won't leave." His voice dipped an octave. "She says you'll want to see what she brought."
I paused.
Bold. Stupid. Or interesting.
"Fine," I said, snapping the folder shut. "Let her in."
The room shifted the moment she walked in.
She moved like temptation dressed in silk and sin—confident, unhurried, lethal. Black pencil skirt, red lips, eyes darker than a blood moon. Her heels clicked against marble like a countdown.
No perfume cloud. Just a trace—spiced jasmine, peppered heat.
She didn't flinch under the stares of my board members—men who chewed through mergers for sport and left reputations in ruins. She didn't shrink, didn't smile politely. She looked bored.
Then she laid a manila envelope on the table. Smooth. Deliberate.
"To the devil in a suit," she said, voice sweet and venomous, "I brought you a little light reading."
I leaned back in my chair, amused. She was either insane or brilliant. I hadn't decided which yet.
"And you are?"
"Aria Vale."
I knew that name.
Not from the press. Not from politics. From somewhere deeper. Dirtier.
She was playing with fire. And she didn't even flinch.
I gestured lazily at the envelope. "What's this? A résumé? A threat?"
"A deal."
I opened it. Because curiosity is a vice even wolves can't always ignore.
Photos. Documents. Internal company emails. Stock transfers. Off-shore accounts. My name in bold.
The room chilled. I gave a flick of my fingers. My board scattered, silent as prey. Good dogs.
"Where did you get these?" I asked, voice dropping to something sharp and quiet.
Aria leaned against the table. "Let's just say you're not the only one with friends in expensive places."
"You know blackmailing me is a death wish, right?"
She smiled, unbothered. "If I were blackmailing you, you'd already be bleeding."
I blinked. Then laughed—low, amused, surprised.
Interesting.
She was reckless. Dangerous. Maybe brilliant.
But she didn't know the rules of my world. Not yet.
"Sit," I said, pointing to the chair across from me.
She did, folding one leg over the other like a queen entertaining a king. No hesitation. No fear.
I studied her. "So. You have my attention. That's dangerous currency, Ms. Vale. Spend it wisely."
She shrugged, eyes locked on mine. "I'm here to propose a partnership."
"You think I partner with people who walk in uninvited?"
"You will when you hear what I have."
I raised an eyebrow. "Try me."
"I have information you'll need if you want to keep your company out of federal hands."
"I don't deal in panic, sweetheart."
"Good. Because what I'm offering isn't panic. It's control."
There was something about the way she said it. Not arrogance. Precision. Like she knew exactly how much to say, exactly how long to hold my gaze before looking away.
She stood and slid a business card across the table—white, unmarked, except for a private contact number.
"I'll be in touch. Don't take too long to decide if you want my help, Damian. I'd hate to watch your empire crumble in slow motion."
She turned, all legs and silk and sin, and walked out.
No flinch. No final look.
Just like that.
Gone.
I stared at the card. Then at the folder.
Then at the empty seat across from me.
Aria Vale walked into my den uninvited.
She thought she could play in the dark.
But she forgot one thing.
I own it.
I picked up the business card. No logo. No tagline. Just ten digits and a dare.
Most people who threatened me ended up silenced—professionally, financially, or otherwise. But Aria Vale? She walked into my empire, tore off a chunk, and fed it to me like a goddamn appetizer.
And I let her.
Not because I couldn't stop her.
Because I didn't want to.
There was something about the way she moved, like she didn't care if I admired her or hated her. Like she expected both. Invited both.
A woman who didn't flinch under pressure wasn't brave. She was dangerous.
And I had a thing for dangerous.
The door clicked shut behind her, and for the first time in weeks, I felt something that wasn't boredom or fury.
It was hunger.
Not the kind I could feed with a bottle of scotch or a new acquisition.
This was darker. Rougher.
The kind of hunger that came with teeth.
I reached for the envelope again and scanned the first page. She'd dug deep—deeper than I thought anyone could. There were documents in here that even my legal team couldn't access without burning a trail.
Which meant she had access to something—or someone—I didn't.
That made her a threat.
And that made her mine.
Not in the romantic, white-picket-fence kind of way.
Mine, like a puzzle I was going to break into pieces just to hear her scream.
But not yet.
First, I'd play her game.
Then I'd rewrite the rules.
And when it was over?
She'd belong to me.
In every way that mattered.
And all the ones that didn't.
I pressed a finger to the envelope again, letting the edge bite into my skin. A thin line of red bloomed across my thumb. Clean. Controlled. A reminder.
Everything about her was sharp.
She knew exactly where to cut.
I reached for my phone.
"Jasper," I said, when he picked up with a shaky breath.
"Y-yes, sir?"
"Find everything you can on her. Family. Finances. Phone calls. I want a file thick enough to crush a man's spine."
"Of course, Mr. Wolfe. Anything else?"
I paused, letting her name roll off my tongue again like a secret I wasn't ready to share.
"Yeah," I said slowly. "Make sure you dig into the sealed records. Use the backdoor if you have to."
He hesitated. "Sir… sealed records?"
"Aria Vale," I said, voice low. "She's not just some pretty face with a folder full of threats. She knows me."
Jasper didn't respond right away. Then: "How well, sir?"
I smiled, cold and slow.
"That's what we're going to find out."
I hung up and stared at the dark glass windows of my office, city lights glowing like embers beneath a thunderstorm.
Aria Vale walked into my den uninvited.
She thought she could play in the dark.
But she forgot one thing.
I am the dark.