Chapter 5 : The Secret room.

Chapter 5 : The Secret room.

Aurora's POV 

 "Now listen, Volkov—"

"No," Damian interrupted. "You listen. Miss Quinn is under my care. That makes her untouchable. And you, unfortunately, are approaching the point where you become expendable." He paused, letting that sink in. 

"Apologize. Now."

The ballroom was utterly silent. Everyone watched in anticipation.

“ Forgive my manners, Miss Quinn”, Ashford said through his teeth and walked away.

 I stood there, trembling with emotions I couldn't process. Damian had defended me. Publicly. Against a man with significant business influence. Against someone who could cost him millions.

He'd chosen me over his profit.

"Dance with me," he said softly, guiding me toward the floor.

It wasn't a question.

Damian pulled me close—close enough that I could feel his heartbeat, close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. His hand on my waist felt like fire through the thin fabric of my dress.

"You're trembling," he observed.

"You're intense," I countered.

He smiled—that dangerous smile that suggested he was enjoying this 

 "I don't like people hurting what's mine."

"I'm not yours," I whispered defiantly, but my body wasn't listening to my words. I was leaning into him, matching his rhythm, falling into the dangerous intimacy of the moment.

"No?" His lips were close to my ear now. "Then why are you here? Why are you living in my home? Why do you look at me like you want to murder me and kiss me simultaneously?"

My breath caught. He knew. Somehow, he knew that my hatred was cracking under the weight of attraction 

"Because you're a monster," I replied.

"Yes," he agreed, spinning me slowly. "And you're obsessed with monsters, aren't you, Elara? That's why you're really here."

Before I could respond, the music ended. He released me, my body protested but my mind was firm. He had my gaze for a second and then he turned away.

...

I didn't sleep that night.

I lay in bed, replaying the moment over and over the way he'd defended me, the way he'd held me, the way he'd looked at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.

He murdered my father, he destroyed people.

But he hadn't destroyed me tonight. He'd protected me.

The contradiction was unbearable.

Around three in the morning, I made a decision that was either brilliant or catastrophically stupid. I got out of bed, moved silently through the mansion, and made my way to Damian's private office on the first floor where we worked late into the night most times.

If I was going to continue this charade, I needed answers. I needed to understand what I was dealing with. What kind of man he really was. 

The office was all dark wood and leather, everything arranged with obsessive precision. His desk held a laptop, files and a couple of news clips I wasn't interested in. I rifled through them carefully, looking for anything that might explain why he was so dangerous.

Then I found it a small drawer with a magnetic key card.

It could open all the doors on this side of the hallway and I'd seen him once enter into another room that wasn't his bedroom or this office.

I needed to check it out.

My hands shook as I slipped it into my pocket. This was the line. Once I crossed it, there was no going back. Once I used this key, I was no longer an infiltrator. I was a thief. A betrayer. Something worse.

I thought about my father. About the note with Volkov's name written on it. About justice and vengeance and the price they demanded.

I tucked the key deeper into my pocket and made my way back to my room, my heart pounding with anticipation and dread.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow I will use it.

Tomorrow I would find out exactly what kind of monster I was falling for.

...

I moved in the cover of the dark, surprising enough this side of the hallway didn't have cameras. I'd double checked.

I swiped at the door with the key card silently and it unlocked. I placed a hand on the door, my heart pounding.

No going back now Aurora

I waited in the darkness of the hallway for what felt like hours but was probably only a couple of minutes.

 The house was silent, the kind of silence that suggested everyone had forgotten I existed. I pushed the door open slowly, half expecting alarms to scream, security to materialize from the shadows.

Nothing happened.

The room beyond was dimly lit by the glow of moonlight filtering through heavy curtains. I looked around for a light switch and turned it on.

My eyes adjusted slowly, and when they did, all the air was knocked out of my lungs.

The wall was covered. Completely covered. Photographs overlapped each other, and they were all of me.

Me at the funeral, black dress soaked with rain, clutching something in my hand, something I couldn't quite see in the photo but knew was my father's note. Me at Volkov Enterprises, first day, walking through the lobby. Me in my cubicle working on those reports . Me dancing with Damian, my face tilted up to his, my guard completely down.

Me. Me. Me.

Hundreds of images of me, all catalogued, organized, studied.

My legs felt weak. I moved closer to the wall, my hand trembling as I reached out to touch one of the photographs. This was surveillance. This was an obsession. This was... 

He'd been on to me.

Then I saw it.

A photograph of my father. Smiling. Shaking hands with Damian Volkov.

My world tilted on its axis.

They knew each other. They'd met. They'd…. I couldn't finish the thought. My brain was fracturing, trying to piece together information that contradicted everything I'd believed.

"I was wondering when you'd come in here."