Chapter Thirteen

Damien doesn’t move away, he doesn't even flinch. He just turns his head slightly, still close enough that his breath brushes across my mouth. “Come in,” he says, voice low and steady, dangerous.

“Damien!” I scold. “Are you crazy!”

I try to scurry off his lap, but he gives me a look that has me reconsidering my actions.

The door creaks open and a junior staff member steps inside, arms full of files. His eyes flicker to us, then drop instantly to the floor, like he’s seen too much already. “Mr. Moretti… the documents you requested for the board meeting.” He sets them on the desk with stiff, nervous movements.

Damien’s hand tightens at my hip, hidden from view, possessive. “Leave them,” he commands.

“Yes, sir.” The worker nods quickly and almost bolts from the room, shutting the door behind him.

“Relax,” he says, typing something on his computer. “Mark won't say anything. He's one of the few employees I trust.”

I finally pull in a shaky breath. Damien trusting people as frequently as rain falls in the desert. So if he trusts the buy then no issues .

My lips still tingle, my skin still burns where Damien touched me. The weight of what almost happens lingers in the air, heavy and intoxicating.

Damien leans back just enough to adjust his jacket, his eyes never leaving mine. They’re unreadable, dark, but burning with something that makes my stomach twist.

And I can’t decide if I should run out of this office… or close the distance again.

“You’re trembling, Ms. Ashford.” His voice is a low drawl, eyes fixed on me with that unsettling sharpness.

“I am not,” I whisper back, even though I know I am.

His mouth curves in that dangerous half-smile, the one that makes my pulse stutter. He leans in, his lips grazing the shell of my ear as he murmurs, “You’ll need steadier hands if you plan to work as my secretary.”

I shiver, my grip tightening on the edge of the desk. “Let’s just…continue with the interview.” I try to stand up from his lap, but his grip tightens.

“I didn't say you could stand up, Ms Ashford,” he says, voice tinged with amusement.

“M… Mr Moretti, I…I just want a fair interview.”

“Fair,” he repeats, tasting the word like it amuses him. His hand brushes mine, deliberate, calculated. “And yet, here you are…blushing, lips swollen from kissing your potential employer. Tell me, Ms. Ashfod…does that feel fair to you? The fact that you come for an interview looking so tempting, does that seem fair?”

My throat dries. “Damien…”

He finally pulls back, studying me like I’m some complicated puzzle he intends to master. Then, without warning, he slides the stack of files toward me. “The board meets in an hour. Summarize these into charts for presentation. Impress me.”

The shift is abrupt, ruthless. Business first. Heat second.

But his gaze lingers on me as I pull the files close, and I know exactly what he’s thinking. Exactly what I’m still thinking. My lips are still tingling, my body, still betraying me.

And suddenly, the interview feels like so much more than an interview.

“Have a seat,” he nods towards the seat opposite him.

I rise up with shaky legs and take a seat opposite him. I pick up the files and get to work.

My pen hovers over the paper as I scan through the numbers, building charts in my head. But his gaze…God, his gaze burns through me like a brand. Every time I glance up, I catch him watching me with that unnerving calm, his fingers steepled beneath his chin as though he’s studying more than just my work.

The silence between us hums, thick with unspoken words. The only sound is the steady tick of the clock on the wall, but all I can hear is the pounding of my own heartbeat.

“How I'm I supposed to work when you keep staring at me like I'm your next meal?” I ask, rubbing my forehead to ease the tension.

“Your handwriting is too neat,” Damien says instead, voice smooth, deliberate. “Like you’re trying too hard to be perfect.”

My head snaps up, heat rising to my cheeks. “Or maybe I just take pride in my work,” I counter, forcing my voice not to shake.

He leans back in his chair, lips curving into that infuriating smirk. “Mm. Pride… or fear of disappointing me?”

I freeze.

Three years, and he knows exactly where to hit, how to pull me apart with a single sentence. My pen slips slightly in my fingers, betraying me.

He notices.

Of course he notices.

“Relax, Ms. Ashford.” His tone is deceptively light, but his eyes, those sharp, dark eyes, pin me in place. “I’m not the enemy.”

“Then stop looking at me like I’m prey,” I snap before I can stop myself.

His smirk deepens, slow and dangerous, and the room suddenly feels too small, too warm. “Maybe that’s because you are.”

My pulse leaps. My grip on the pen tightens until it threatens to snap. I force myself to bend over the file again, pretending to focus, but his presence presses on me like a physical weight. Every second stretches, every glance burns.

When I finally slide one of the completed charts toward him, his fingers brush mine, intentionally slow. Electricity shoots up my arm, and I bite my lip to keep from reacting.

“Good,” he murmurs, his voice so low I almost don’t catch it. Then he looks up, his eyes locking on mine, holding me there. “But not good enough.”

I swallow hard, my throat dry. “Then I’ll do better.”

The smile he gives me is equal parts approval and warning, a silent promise that this game we’re playing has only just begun.

In an hour, I'm standing in the large boardroom staring at the faces of the shareholders of MORETTI COORP.

The room smells faintly of polished wood and expensive cologne, an arena of power where every word weighs heavy. I straighten the stack of files in my hands, forcing my nerves into submission.

Damien sits at the head of the long mahogany table, his presence commanding without effort. “Ms. Ashford will present the quarterly analysis,” he says evenly, as though I’m just another employee.

But the way his eyes lock onto me tells a different story. A dangerous story.

I inhale, step forward, and begin. “Gentlemen, if you look at the first chart, you’ll see our revenue stream for Q2…”

Almost instantly, I feel his hands caressing my thighs softly. Heat floods my body. My words hitch, but I push on. “...a steady increase of nine percent over the last quarter.”

“Only nine?” Mr. Gallagher, one of the older board members, interrupts. His tone drips with skepticism. “With the resources at our disposal, I expected more.”

I swallow hard. His eyes are sharp, daring me to slip. Damien’s thumb strokes circles climb even higher up my thigh, slow and deliberate.

I lift my chin. “Nine percent may sound modest, Mr. Gallagher. But when you account for last quarter’s market instability, it’s a significant gain.”

Gallagher narrows his eyes, but another board member, Ms. Liu, chimes in. “And what about our overseas branch? I don’t see enough detail here to justify the increased budget allocation.”

Her question spears me just as Damien’s fingers inch higher. It he brushes my pussy through my underwear. I dig my nails into the folder, my pulse racing. Two battles at once. One I can’t lose, the other I can’t acknowledge.

I force a calm smile trying to calm my nerves even as Damien's strokes increase. “If you turn to page six, you’ll see the projections for the Singapore expansion. It’s outperforming expectations by fifteen percent.”

Damien chuckles low in his throat. The sound vibrates straight through me, unheard by the others. He leans back in his chair, the picture of composure. “Go on, Ms. Ashford,” he says smoothly, as if testing how much I can take before I break.

I clear my throat, praying my voice doesn’t betray me. “That growth is due to a new marketing strategy that…” My sentence fractures when his fingers find their way into my underwear, touching my pussy directly.

Ms. Liu frowns. “You hesitated, Ms. Ashford. Are you certain about this strategy?”

“Yes,” I snap, too quickly. Heat rises in my cheeks. “I mean, yes, I’m certain. The strategy is tailored specifically to local consumer behavior, which explains the rapid return.”

Murmurs ripple through the boardroom. Gallagher leans back with a smirk. “Bold claims for someone so…new to this table.”

Damien increases his pace and I bite down on my lip to avoid moaning out. “Confidence is necessary in this position,” he says, his voice smooth but edged with steel. “Wouldn’t you agree, gentlemen?”

Several heads nod reluctantly. The pressure eases slightly, but my body is still on fire, torn between defending my competence and resisting the pleasure curling low in my stomach.

I move to the final chart, pointing with my pen. “As you’ll notice, the projected margin for Q3 shows an upward trend across all branches…”

The sudden curl of his fingers cuts me off. I close my eyes trying to contain the pleasure. My lips part in a shaky exhale. I bite it back, masking the sound as a cough.

Ms. Liu’s gaze sharpens. “Are you certain those projections aren’t overly optimistic?”

I meet her eyes directly, forcing steadiness into my voice even though my insides are burning up. “I ran the numbers twice. They’re realistic. Ambitious, yes, but grounded.”

For a heartbeat, silence hangs in the air. Then Damien’s voice breaks it, low and commanding. “I trust Ms. Ashford’s analysis. Unless someone here has better numbers?”

No one answers. The weight of his authority silences them all.

I exhale slowly, realizing the presentation is over. Applause scatters half-heartedly, but I don't hear them. Not when Damien increases his pace bringing me closer, and closer to the edge before pulling his fingers out. The sudden absence leaves me trembling.

He rises to his feet. “Excellent work, Ms. Ashford,” he says smoothly.

I gather the files, forcing composure as the board members exchange whispers. Damien’s eyes flick toward me, unreadable to anyone else, but I feel the storm in them.

The members of the board step out the room one after the other till it's just Damien and I.

“You're cruel,” I tell him and he chuckles.

“Having your boss fuck you while you're giving a presentation? Don't you think it's rather…unprofessional?” He says, popping his fingers in his mouth and sucking my juices off him.

“Sweet as it should be,” he says moving towards the door. “You're hired, Mrs Moretti.”

And I know this battle is far from over.