CHAPTER THREE - THE TEST

For a long, stretched-out moment, Amara could only stare at Vanessa. The woman looked like she had stepped straight out of a magazine spread - every detail curated to perfection. A silk dress draped like it was poured onto her body, diamonds winking under the last blush of the sun, confidence in every tilt of her chin.

Vanessa’s smirk widened. “I can see why Damian’s amused.”

Amara blinked. “Amused?”

“Yes.” Vanessa’s voice was honey laced with steel. She stepped closer, circling Amara like she was inspecting a purchase. “He has a habit of collecting… curiosities.”

Heat rushed to Amara’s cheeks. “I’m not curious. I’m an employee.”

“Temporary employee,” Vanessa corrected, the word slicing through the air. “Don’t mistake opportunity for permanence. Damian enjoys puzzles, and when they’re solved, he discards them.”

Something twisted low in Amara’s stomach. She had no illusions about her place here - she was here for the paycheck, not to matter. But Vanessa’s words stung all the same, like salt in a wound she didn’t know she had.

“I’m here to work,” Amara said firmly, lifting her chin. “Not to be… collected.”

Vanessa chuckled, low and deliberate. “Bold. I see why he bothers speaking to you. Still, boldness without power is nothing more than noise.”

Before Amara could bite back a retort, a voice cut through the tension.

“Vanessa.”

Damian stood in the doorway, his presence filling the terrace as effortlessly as sunlight. His gaze flicked between the two women, cool and unreadable.

“Darling,” Vanessa purred, turning toward him with a smile that transformed her face into charm incarnate. “I was just welcoming your new… assistant.”

Damian’s expression didn’t shift. “I trust you were gracious.”

“Of course.” Vanessa’s eyes glimmered as they lingered on Amara. “We were simply discussing… boundaries.”

Amara felt the weight of Damian’s gaze land on her, steady, piercing. He didn’t speak, but the silence between them said enough - it was a test, and he was waiting to see how she’d respond.

Her pulse thudded in her ears. One wrong word and she could lose this job before it began. But backing down wasn’t in her nature.

She met his eyes. “Boundaries go both ways.”

For the briefest flicker of a second, something sparked in Damian’s gaze - interest, maybe even approval - but it was gone as quickly as it came.

“Dinner is at eight,” he said simply. “Be on time.”

With that, he turned and vanished back into the house.

Vanessa lingered, her smile sharpening. “Enjoy your time here, Amara. It won’t last.” She brushed past, perfume trailing like smoke.

Amara released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Her hands trembled as she gripped the railing, the gardens blurring beneath her. She had survived the first blow, but the war had only begun.

Dinner was a performance. The long table glittered with crystal and silver, the food more art than nourishment. Amara stood at Damian’s side, tasked with notes and schedules, but she couldn’t ignore Vanessa perched gracefully at the other end, her laughter threading through the room like music.

The guests were powerful - executives, investors, faces Amara had only ever seen in glossy magazines stacked on the café counter. Every conversation dripped with money and influence. She felt like a ghost in their world, invisible yet exposed.

And yet, Damian’s eyes found hers more than once. Not long, not obvious - just fleeting glances, as though he was measuring her against the room.

When the plates were cleared and wine flowed freely, Vanessa struck again. “Damian, darling,” she said, her voice smooth. “Your assistant tells me she’s new. Perhaps she should introduce herself properly?”

All eyes shifted to Amara. Her chest tightened. This wasn’t an introduction - it was an ambush.

She forced her voice steady. “Amara Blake. I’m here on temporary assignment.”

“From where?” Vanessa pressed, her smile sweet but sharp.

“A café,” Amara admitted. The word sounded small in the cavernous dining hall.

Laughter rippled around the table, polite but cutting. Vanessa leaned back, satisfied. “How… quaint.”

Heat scorched Amara’s cheeks. Pride clawed at her throat, demanding she lash out, but she swallowed it down. Instead, she straightened her shoulders and added, “It’s honest work. Something I value.”

The laughter faded. A few guests looked down at their glasses. And across the table, Damian’s mouth curved, almost imperceptibly. Not mockery - something closer to approval.

Vanessa’s eyes narrowed.

Later, when the guests had gone and the mansion was hushed again, Amara gathered her notes, ready to escape to her small assigned room. But Damian’s voice stopped her at the door.

“You held your ground.”

She turned. He was leaning against the desk, jacket undone, tie loosened, the polished mask slightly cracked.

“Was I supposed to grovel?” she asked.

“Most would.”

“I’m not most.”

For the first time, his lips tugged into a ghost of a smile. “I’m beginning to see that.”

The silence stretched, charged, neither comfortable nor hostile - something in between, something precarious.

Amara swallowed, suddenly aware of how close they were, how his gaze seemed to see through the thin armor she wore. She forced herself to look away. “If that’s all, I’ll be going.”

“Go on, then.” His voice was calm, but as she left, she could feel his eyes lingering on her back.

And though she hated herself for it, Amara’s pulse didn’t settle until she closed the door behind her.