Isla
The moment Damien's office door closed behind Lucas Sterling, Isla let out the breath she'd been holding.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she gripped the edge of her desk, the air in the room still thick with tension. Seeing Lucas had dragged her back to a past she had spent years trying to bury. The whispers of betrayal. The broken promises. The night her father lost everything.
And Damien had just sat there—calm, unaffected, as if none of it mattered.
She had to remind herself that this was why she was here.
To uncover the truth.
To make Damien Blackwood suffer the way her family had.
She forced herself to focus, scanning her emails, going over the schedule she had to finalize for Damien's upcoming meetings. But concentration was impossible when she could still feel his presence just beyond the glass walls of his office.
It didn't matter that he wasn't looking at her.
She could still feel him.
The way the air shifted when he moved. The quiet command in his every action.
Damn him.
She had known he was dangerous, but it wasn't just his power or his cruelty that unsettled her. It was something far more destructive.
It was the way he made her feel.
A sharp knock snapped her out of her thoughts.
The door to Damien's office opened, and his voice cut through the silence.
"Miss Monroe. Inside. Now."
Her pulse spiked.
She swallowed down the instinctive resentment that always came with his orders, straightened her posture, and stepped into his office.
He was standing by the window, the city skyline stretching out behind him, his hands in his pockets, his posture deceptively relaxed. But there was nothing relaxed about Damien Blackwood.
Not when his eyes locked onto hers.
"Close the door."
She hesitated for half a second before obeying.
The click of the latch sounded final.
Like a lock sealing her fate.
Damien
She was tense.
He could see it in the stiffness of her shoulders, the way her fingers twitched before she curled them into fists at her sides.
Good.
She should be tense.
She should be afraid.
Because she was playing a dangerous game.
And she had no idea just how far he was willing to go.
"You don't like Lucas." His voice was calm, but the weight of it settled between them like a heavy storm cloud.
Her jaw tightened. "Should I?"
Damien tilted his head, watching her. "He was your father's friend once."
Her lips pressed into a thin line. "And now he's yours."
There it was.
The sharp edge beneath her words. The accusation she didn't say out loud.
Damien moved closer, slow and deliberate, watching the way her breathing changed.
"How much do you know?" he asked quietly.
Her gaze didn't waver. "Enough."
A lie.
If she really knew the truth, she wouldn't just be standing here, trying to play the role of his perfect assistant.
She would be running.
Damien let the silence stretch between them, letting her feel the weight of his presence, the inevitability of what was coming.
Then, finally—
"Tell me, Miss Monroe." His voice dropped lower, taunting. "What exactly are you looking for?"
Her fingers curled tighter. "I don't know what you mean."
Another lie.
Damien stepped closer, close enough that he could see the flicker of unease in her eyes.
Close enough that he could smell the faint, intoxicating scent of her perfume.
"If you want something from me, Isla," he murmured, his voice smooth as silk, "you should just ask."
Her breath hitched. Just for a second.
But Damien caught it.
Saw the way her pulse fluttered at the base of her throat.
Saw the way her fingers trembled before she clenched them tighter.
She wanted to fight him.
Wanted to hate him.
But some battles weren't meant to be won.
Some battles destroyed you.
And Isla Monroe had no idea that she was already losing.
Isla
Breathe.
It was the only thought running through her mind.
Damien was too close.
Too overpowering.
Too much.
She wanted to push him away, to force distance between them, but her body refused to move.
His voice slid over her like velvet, dark and dangerous, wrapping around her like a noose.
"If you want something from me, Isla, you should just ask."
She clenched her jaw. "I want nothing from you."
His smirk was slow, deliberate. "Liar."
Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.
She needed to leave. Now.
But before she could move, his voice dropped even lower.
"Be careful, Isla." His tone was almost amused, but there was something lethal beneath it. "You're playing a game you don't understand."
Her chin lifted, defiance flaring despite the rapid pounding of her heart. "And what game is that?"
Damien's smirk faded, his gaze darkening.
"The kind that will destroy you."
The air between them was thick, crackling with something Isla didn't dare name.
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
Then, without another word, Damien turned away, dismissing her as if she wasn't worth his time.
The unspoken message was clear.
You can walk away now, Isla.
Or you can stay and lose.
She should have walked away.
But as she stepped out of his office, her pulse still unsteady, she realized something terrifying.
She wasn't sure she wanted to win anymore.