Chapter 7 - The Art of Control

Damien Cross stood on the balcony of his penthouse, a glass of whiskey in his hand, watching the city move beneath him.

Even at this hour, it never truly slept. Streetlights bathed the wet pavement in gold, headlights cutting through the dark like fleeting streaks of fire. The distant hum of traffic and the occasional sharp blare of a hum blended into a steady rhythm.

Damien loved watching the city in its element. It was his favourite nightly routine, but that wasn't what intrigued him.

It was the people, from this height, people looked insignificant - tiny fleeting figures scurrying from one place to another, chasing things that didn't matter. Wealth, Power. Love. Illusions.

He had long since discarded such notions.

Power wasn't something one chased. It was something to be taken.

Damien had spent his life mastering that truth, it was the foundation of everything he built. People, after all, were easy. They could be manipulated, moulded, controlled - so long as you understood what they desired and what they feared.

And Damien understood both.

It was all about control, that was the only thing that mattered. Some were born into it, shaped by it. Others spent their lives grasping for it, only to find themselves at the mercy of men like him.

His gaze shifted as he sipped his drink, the city was alive with movement, yet it all felt distant. He had always preferred solitude, the quiet control of watching rather than being among the masses.

He didn’t chase wealth- it was already his. He didn’t seek power - it flowed through him like an undeniable current.

What he wanted, what truly mattered was something much more valuable.

Revenge.

Damien had experienced betrayal, one so sharp cutting through him with the precision of a blade. Not because of the act itself, he had been betrayed before. People were predictable that way. Greedy. Weak. But this betrayal had been different.

And Damien was not the kind of man to forgive. He had found a way, a way to him. His nephew.

Damien's jaw tightened at the thought of him. Ryan Hastings. The name was laughable, a name that Ryan used to bury the past. As if erasing “Cross” would cleanse him of his sins. As if Damien would ever let him forget.

Ryan had been a betrayer he hadn't seen coming. Damien had taken him in, guided him, and given him access to a world most men could only dream of. And how had he repaid him? By sinking a knife into his back, spitting in the face of the very power that shielded him. By taking what was his.

The thought of him was like a slow-burning fire in his chest - one he refused to extinguish. The boy had made choices. And Ryan had thought he could just disappear? Thought he could escape the consequences of his actions?

He turned from the balcony, walking back to his study. The penthouse was dark, illuminated only by the soft glow of the city lights filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. He placed his glass down as he settled onto a couch, opening his laptop.

Damien's lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. No. He didn't believe in loose ends.

He had waited, calculated. Set the pieces in motion. And now finally the moment was here.

Chloe Bennett.

The one woman Ryan had given a damn about.

The one he had destroyed with his own selfishness.

She had been an unexpected opportunity, one he hadn't planned for - but one he would use. Because fate had a way of bringing people exactly where they needed to be.

The first time he saw her had been by chance. She had walked into his club, oblivious to the fact that he had been watching. He had known exactly who she was, the golden girl of Bennett Industries, a woman born into privilege but with the fire of someone who wanted more. But most importantly - a means to an end.

He hadn't sought her out. But when she appeared before him, unknowing and vulnerable, the opportunity was too perfect to ignore. That night - their night- had never meant to happen. He hadn't sought her out. Hadn't planned to to touch her.

His gaze shifted toward his laptop, where an email confirmation sat open. When he received the confirmation that Chloe Bennett would be representing Bennett Industries in the upcoming negotiation, he leaned back in his chair, amused by the audacity.

James Bennett. If there was one person Damien respected, it was him. But the move was almost insulting. A seasoned player like James sending his daughter? What had he been thinking?

Did James think Chloe could sway him? That he'd be softer, more agreeable, simply because she was a pretty face?

Damien scoffed, taking a slow sip of whiskey. James wasn't a fool. He had built his legacy from the ground up and clawed his way to the top of the industry. But even the sharpest of men made mistakes. And James had just sent his daughter into the lion's den.

Damien had laughed at the thought, he wasn't a man that was easily moved. If that had been the intent, it was a fatal miscalculation, because Chloe wasn't going to sway him. She was going to be his. Not in the way her father had intended, Not in the way Ryan had once had her. No, Damien had other plans.

This was an opportunity to finally bury the past.

He had been looking for a way to sink his teeth into Ryan. And fate had handed him the perfect leverage.

She was about to walk into his world. She would sit across from him thinking she had control. Confidence. Thinking she could negotiate with him. And that would be her first mistake.

A slow satisfied smirk curled his lips as he closed the laptop, sinking into the soft embrace of his luxurious couch. This was a tempting game and Damien wasn't one to lose.

Morning came early and Damien was already awake before the first hint of sunlight crept through the towering windows of his penthouse. Sleep was a luxury, one he rarely indulged in. He preferred the quiet hours before dawn when the world was still. When his thoughts were his own, unchallenged by the demands of the day.

He pushed back from the crisp white sheets and rose from the bed, his movements slow and controlled. He didn't remember getting here. The last thing he recalled was the couch. The warmth of whiskey burned down his throat. The faint glow of the city lights peering through the glass windows. He must have moved at some point.

With a quiet sigh, he pushed himself upright, running a hand down his face. The air was cool against his skin. The room was silent except for the distant hum of the city below.

Atlanta.

After three years. It had begun to look like home. Not in the sentimental sense - nothing ever had - but in familiarity. He knew its streets, its rhythm. The deceit behind closed doors.

He swung his leg over the side of the bed and rose, the marble floor cool beneath his feet. He glanced at the clock. 5:13 AM. His usual hour.

The shower was hot, steam curling against the glass as water glided over his tense muscles. He let it run longer than necessary, standing under the steady pressure. His mind already pulling toward the day ahead.

He stepped out with a towel wrapped around his waist, his haze of sleep had lifted completely.

Dressing was a ritual in itself, tailored black suit, silver cufflinks, polished shoes. He adjusted his watch, then moved through the quiet of his home, toward the kitchen where a fresh cup of coffee had been brewed.

The faintest footsteps approached him, but Damien didn't glance up, he knew who it was before the voice confirmed it.

"You're up early", Ethan Graves remarked, stepping into the kitchen.

"I always am", Damien replied, taking a slow sip of his coffee.

Ethan was one of the few people who had clearance to enter unannounced, though that didn't mean Damien appreciated it. His lead negotiator and PI was efficient and reliable but too perceptive for his good.

Ethan leaned against the counter, arms folded. "I assume you've seen the confirmation."

Damien's expression remained unreadable. "I have."

"Since James Bennett isn't representing Bennett Industries himself, it's only natural I handle the daughter Damien."

There was a pause. Then a quiet cough. "Mr. Cross," Ethan corrected himself.

Damien finally looked at him, lifting a brow in amusement.

Ethan continued, "This is a high-stakes deal. It makes sense for me to handle the negotiation. That way, there are no distractions."

Damien tilted his head as he spoke. "You think she'll be a distraction?"

Ethan exhaled. "The entire city is talking about you stepping out of the shadows for this. People are speculating why. If your first public move in years is over a woman, that changes the narrative."

Damien's expression didn't change. "Let them talk."

"This should be about the deal, not Chloe Bennett," Ethan emphasized.

Ethan held his gaze, waiting. Expecting him to relent.

Damien picked up his coffee again, letting the silence linger. Then finally- "No."

Ethan's brows furrowed. "No?" he repeated.

"I'll handle Chloe Bennett myself." Damien was stubborn, decisive and Ethan knew this too well.

A muscle twitched in Ethan's jaw. "Damien if James sent her, it wasn't just to negotiate. He's testing you."

"Then I'll show him exactly what kind of man I am."

"You're making this personal."

Damien's gaze didn't waver. "It's always been personal."

Ethan bowed his head slightly, his fingers tapping against the file in his hand. He knew that.

The moment Ryan Hastings - Ryan Cross- had made the mistake of betraying Damien, it had ceased to be just business.

But Ethan wasn't here to remind Damien of what he already knew. He was here to ensure that Cross Corp didn't fall into the chaos Damien's vengeance was bound to bring.

Damien straightened, adjusting his cuffs, the conversation already over in his mind. "Make sure everything is in place for the meeting."

Ethan hesitated, but he knew when to back down. He gave a curt nod before turning for the door. "Of course, Mr. Cross."

The door clicked shut behind him.

Damien exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders, the familiar hum of anticipation settling into his chest.

Chloe Bennett was walking into his world.

She had no idea she had already lost.

And by the time she realized it, it would be too late.