Chapter Two
I ran my fingers over the contract papers, feeling my nerves unable to even understand the words in front of me. There were numbers, percentages and corporate policies — pages upon pages of them, and in minutes my head began to spin.
I stole a glance at Damien.
He was watching, those piercing blue eyes locked, like he was waiting for me to screw up.
I gritted my teeth. I wouldn't give him that satisfaction.
I willed myself to concentrate, scrolling through the pages. Words become jumbled, and my anger boils over.
"This is not fair," I whispered to myself.
"What was that?"
I looked up to see him arch an eyebrow, his expression inscrutable.
I let out a sharp breath, squeezing the papers harder. "I'm lost all the way around."
He smirked, clearly amused. "Then learn."
I scowled. "You think I should just instantly turn into some finance guru?"
"I expect you to keep up." He rose, making his way around the desk with measured, deliberate strides. "You don't want to pay off your debt, do you?"
I clenched my fists. "That doesn't mean you have to make it unachievable."
He paused next to my chair, leaning in a bit.
"Nothing is easy in life, Elena," he said softly. "If you want something, you have to fight for it."
There was weight to the voice, low, smooth, but it was weight. Like he was speaking from experience.
I swallowed hard.
They were lean, muscular, all eyes — and up close I could see the sharp angles of his face, the clench of his jaw, the faint hint of stubble that lined his chin.
He was too close.
Too intense.
I squirmed in my seat, desperate to turn away. "Fine," I said, picking up the papers again. "I'll figure it out."
He smirked in satisfaction. "Good."
He straightened, returning to his side of the desk. "You have two hours."
I frowned. "Two hours?"
"Everything they read and memorize."
My mouth fell open. "That's insane."
His expression didn't change. "Then he quit."
I shot him a glare, but he'd already turned back to his computer, typing away as though I was invisible.
I hated him.
And yet, something about this challenge stoked a fire in me.
I had been working so long, I was tired and frustrated, and I hadn't understood half of what I'd been doing, but I didn't want to fail.
I picked up the next page and read.
One hour later…
I was drowning.
The words ran together, my eyes burning from all the reading. I'd never felt more out of my element in my life.
I glanced up at Damien. He was fixed to his laptop, jaw tense, fingers gliding effortlessly over the keyboard.
I sighed and rubbed my temples.
I needed a break.
I pushed back my chair and stood up. "I need water."
Damien didn't look up. "No."
I blinked. "No?"
"You work for me now, Elena. If you want something, you need to ask permission."
My jaw clenched. "Fine. Can I have water?"
"No."
I gaped at him. "Are you serious?"
Finally, he raised his eyes, his lips twisting into a languorous, calculated smirk. "You have 30 minutes remaining. Focus."
I wanted to just throw the papers in his face.
Instead, I sat back down, clutching the chair knuckles-white.
I was going to survive this.
I was going to show him that he was wrong.
But I didn't know that surviving Damien Blackwood was just the start.
My head pounded.
The words on the contract wilted together, and no matter how personally I read the same sentence, it bore no meaning. Corporate acquisitions. Shareholder agreements. Non-disclosure policies. My head was underwater, inundated with business jargon.
I clenched my teeth, shoving my hair away from my face, annoyance boiling inside of me. I didn't belong here.
And Damien Blackwood knew it.
He sat in front of me, cool and collected, glued to his laptop as if I wasn't even there. Like I was some other disposable hire, there to serve a function and then go away.
My fingers curled into fists.
I hated him.
I hated how he could order people around, how he hardly even looked at me, how he had gotten me into this dumb deal.
And I hated that. Worst of all, I wanted to impress him.
I gritted my teeth and turned the page.
Just focus, Elena. Get through this. Survive.
But as soon as I turned the page, I heard him move.
The soft creak of his chair. The sound of his footsteps on the marble floor, quiet.
I froze.
And then, he was behind me.
Standing close.
Too close.
His heat made me shiver.
I swallowed hard, feeling my fingers grip the papers as he bent over my shoulder.
"You're holding that so tight you're going to rip it," he said, his low voice running over my ear.
I stiffened. "Maybe I want to tear it."
A slow, knowing smirk ticked his lips. "Frustrated, Elena?"
I'd turned my head slightly, and my heart tripped when I noticed how close he was.
I could see the sharp angles of his face, the dark stubble on his jaw, the way his icy blue eyes glittered with some unreadable quality.
My breath caught.
I had been so caught up in hating him, I had failed to completely see what had been sitting right in front of me all along.
He wasn't just powerful.
He was powerfully attractive.
And it pissed me off.
I straightened, giving us room. "I need a break."
His smirk didn't fade. "No."
I exhaled sharply. "You can't possibly expect me to sit here and —"
"I expect you to perform your duties," he interjected smoothly. "Unless you'd rather leave."
I swallowed my words.
He knew I couldn't leave.
He was doing this on purpose, prodding, probing, waiting for me to crack.
I lifted my chin. "Fine. But at least give me a pen to take some notes."
Damien raised a brow. And then, without saying a word, he started digging into his pocket, and pulled out one smooth black pen.
He bent down and set it on the desk in front of me.
But he didn't move away.
Instead, his fingers grazed mine, briefly.
A spark shot through me.
I gasped, my heart dropping.
Darkness flashed through his eyes. Something dangerous.
Something I wanted to name.
"Easy, Elena," he said in a voice that was impossibly low. "You're playing a game not understanding how to play."
Then he let go and left me cold and breathless.
And just like that, I knew
This was no longer just a job.
This was a war.
And I had just entered enemy territory.
My head pounded.
The words on the contract merged together, and I found that no matter how many times I read the same sentence, it didn't make sense. Corporate acquisitions. Shareholder agreements. Non-disclosure policies. My mind was suffocated by business buzzwords.
I grounded my teeth and flicked my hair to the side, the anger bubbling up inside. I didn't belong here.
And Damien Blackwood knew it.
He sat on the other side of the table, calm and collected, his focus on his laptop, as though I were invisible. That a guy like me was just an expendable employee, whose only purpose in life was to do the job and then fade away.
My fingers curled into fists.
I hated him.
I hated how he controlled everything, how he hardly ever looked at me, how I had allowed myself to become trapped in this ridiculous arrangement.
And worst of all … I hated that I wanted to impress him.
I gritted my teeth and turned to the next page.
Just focus, Elena. Get through this. Survive.
But as soon as I flipped the page, I heard him stir.
The soft creak of his chair. The soft patter of his feet on the marble.
I froze.
And then, all of a sudden, he was behind me.
Standing close.
Too close.
The heat of him sent a shiver down my spine.
My fingers tightened on the papers as he leaned over my shoulder and I swallowed hard.
"You're holding that so tight, you're going to rip it," he murmured, his low voice running into my ear.
I stiffened. "Maybe I want to tear it."
His mouth twisted into a slow, knowing smirk. "Frustrated, Elena?"
I tilted my head slightly, and my heart tripped at how close he was.
I could make out the sharp angles of the man's face, dark stubble along his jaw, the way his icy blue eyes flickered with something unreadable.
My breath caught.
I had been too busy hating him to fully see what had been right there in front of me this whole time.
He wasn't just powerful.
He was dangerously beautiful.
And it pissed me off.
I straightened, creating distance between us. "I need a break."
His smirk didn't fade. "No."
I exhaled sharply. "You're not seriously expecting me to sit here and —"
"I expect you to do your job," he interjected smoothly. "Unless you'd rather leave."
I swallowed my words.
He knew I couldn't leave.
He was doing this deliberately, making a challenge of me, seeing how far he could go, waiting for me to break.
I lifted my chin. "Fine. But at least give me a pen to take notes."
Damien raised a brow. Then, wordlessly, he took a pen from his pocket — a shiny black one.
He set it on the desk in front of me as he leaned down.
But he didn't move away.
Instead, his fingers grazed mine, for a moment.
A spark shot through me.
I sucked in air, my heart plummeting.
Something dark glimmered in his eyes. Something dangerous.
Something I wanted to leave unnamed.
"Careful, Elena," he murmured, his voice impossibly low. "You're participating in a game that you don't understand."
Then he pulled back, leaving me chilly and gasping.
And just like that, I knew
That was no longer just a job.
This was a war.
And I had just entered enemy territory.