Chapter Twelve

Hours later, the music has slowed, the champagne has thinned, and the glittering chaos of Natalie’s wedding reception begins to wane. I adjust the straps of my dress for what feels like the hundredth time, checking my reflection in a compact mirror one last time.

I glide toward Natalie, who is laughing quietly with Louis. She turns at the sight of me, her eyes softening with the kind of warmth only years of friendship can cultivate.

“I can’t believe you stayed until the end,” she says, her voice tinged with gratitude. “Thank you for being here, Leina.”

I squeeze her hands in mine. “For you? Always.”

Louis steps forward, extending a hand once more. “It was a pleasure having you here tonight, Leina. Truly.”

I give him a polite nod and a small, genuine smile. “The pleasure was mine, Mr. Dublin. Natalie deserves nothing but happiness, and I’m glad to have witnessed it.”

They hug me briefly, and I step back, allowing them to return to their guests. I wave goodbye to the familiar faces who still stare with a mixture of awe and lingering judgment.

The mansion doors open, and I make my way outside into the crisp night air. There, under the glow of the lamps lining the driveway, Damien sits in the back of a sleek black car, the engine humming softly. He glances up as I approach, dark eyes locking onto mine, and for a heartbeat, everything else falls away.

I open the rear door, sliding in beside him. The scent of him, leather, subtle cologne, and something uniquely his own, hits me, grounding me immediately. He doesn’t speak at first, he simply studies me, his gaze intense, measuring every inch of the calm I’m trying to hold onto.

“You handled that well,” he finally says, voice low, almost a growl. “Better than I could have expected.”

I allow myself a small, triumphant smile, leaning back against the seat. “It was about showing them who I am. Not about them.”

His eyes flick to mine again, and the intensity deepens. “And you did. But be warned, there’s always someone who won’t take kindly to being reminded of their failures.”

I let out a quiet laugh, shaking my head. “Let them talk. I’m not here to play their games anymore.”

He reaches out, brushing a loose strand of hair from my face. “No. You’re here to do what you’ve always done, set your own rules, little flame. And I’ll be right beside you.”

The car glides into the night, the city stretching ahead like a canvas waiting to be painted anew. I sink into the leather seat, letting the silence between us settle. For a moment, I allow myself the luxury of exhaustion, the subtle thrill of victory.

And yet, beneath it all, a shadow of anticipation coils in my chest. I know the night isn’t over. Not really. Because when it comes to me, and Damien, danger, desire, and defiance never sleep.

The engine hums beneath us as the car disappears into the darkness, and I lean my head back, closing my eyes.

The car pulls up to the mansion, the familiar gates sliding open to welcome us home. I step out, my heels clicking against the stone, and Damien’s hand slides around my waist, guiding me inside. The warmth of the house envelops me, but it’s nothing compared to the tension simmering between us.

“Isabella's probably gone to sleep,” I say glancing at the clock on the wall.

We move up the grand staircase in silence, the hum of the city fading behind us. When we reach the bedroom, I close the door, letting out a long breath.

“I can’t believe I survived tonight without losing my temper,” I mutter, setting my clutch on the dresser.

Damien leans against the frame of the door, his eyes dark and unyielding as he studies me. “You handled yourself perfectly,” he says, his voice low, deliberately close to a growl. “Better than I could have imagined.”

I smirk, feeling a shiver run down my spine as I start loosening the straps of my dress. “Flattery will get you nowhere,” I tease, slipping it down over my shoulders. The silk pools around my feet, revealing the curve of my back, and I can feel Damien’s gaze tracing every line.

“You know,” he murmurs, stepping closer, “you look like temptation itself, standing here in my bedroom.”

I bite my lip, trying to focus despite the heat building in the room. “I’m not here to tempt you,” I say, but my words are half-lies. I turn to face him, letting my hair fall loosely around my shoulders, daring him to say something.

His eyes darken, hunger and desire mingling with something else, calculation, control. But I push my thoughts back to the other reason I’m here tonight. I clear my throat.

“Actually… there’s something I want to talk about before we do anything else,” I say, stepping closer to him. “I want to apply for a position. I want to be your secretary.”

He raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching. “You? My secretary?” His voice is incredulous but tinged with amusement.

“Yes,” I insist, holding his gaze. “I want to do an interview. I want to prove that I can handle the work, that I deserve it on my own merit.”

Damien shakes his head slowly, stepping closer, closing the distance between us. “Leina, you don’t need an interview. You don’t need to prove anything to me. If you want this job, you already have it. My secretary is mine to choose, and I’ve already chosen.”

I cross my arms, defiant. “That’s not fair,” I argue softly. “Not for me. I want to earn it, Damien. I want to start this on equal footing.”

He tilts his head, his gaze appraising, as if weighing my stubbornness against his own desires. Then, slowly, he smiles, a small, dangerous curve of his lips.

“Fair enough,” he says finally, his voice low and deliberate. “We’ll do it your way. You’ll have your interview.”

I exhale, tension easing from my shoulders, though the heat between us hasn’t cooled. “Good,” I murmur, a small triumph in my voice.

He steps even closer, and I feel the weight of him, the dominance that has always both infuriated and drawn me. His eyes flick down, lingering on me, and for a moment, words are unnecessary. The room is charged with something older, something reckless, and I know the night is far from over.

But for now… for now, the first battle of fairness is mine.

~~~

The sunlight creeps through the curtains, warm against my skin. I stretch and blink away the remnants of sleep, the quiet hum of the mansion filling the room.

I take a shower and put on an outfit I deem fit for the interview. A red blouse and a black fleur skirt that ends around my knees. I head downstairs for some breakfast.

“Morning, Mama!” Isabella’s bright voice cuts through my thoughts. She’s already dressed, hair braided neatly, sitting at the breakfast table with a bowl of cereal and a mischievous smile.

“Good morning, my little star,” I say, smiling as I pour her some orange juice.

“Guess what happened at school yesterday!” she exclaims, leaning forward. “We had a science experiment, and I was the first to get it right! Mrs. Collins said I’m improving so fast!”

“That’s amazing, Bella,” I say, ruffling her hair. “I’m proud of you.”

She beams, and for a moment, I let myself relax in the comfort of our little morning ritual. We talk about school projects, friends, and the things that matter to her, simple joys that I never want her to take for granted.

After breakfast, I help her pack her bag and kiss her on the forehead. “Have a great day at school. Mama will see you this afternoon.”

After instructing the driver to take her to school, I head to the company, the city buzzing around me. The glass towers of Damien’s empire glint in the morning sun, a reminder of the power he wields.

I’m escorted to his office, my palms slightly sweaty as I adjust my blouse and skirt. Today is the day I prove myself, my way, on equal footing.

He’s seated behind the massive mahogany desk when I enter, eyes lifting to meet mine. He looks exceptionally good in his black Armani suit.

“Good morning, Mr Moretti,” I greet, clutching my resumè.

“Have a seat,” he says.

I comply, taking the chair across from him, my hands clasped neatly in my lap. “Thank you,” I murmur.

He opens a folder, pretending to look over papers, though I know he doesn’t need them. “Let’s start with your experience,” he begins, his voice steady. “How much work experience do you have?”

“Well, I have a diploma in business studies, and I have worked for two years at MORETTI COORP, Mexico.” I say, fiddling with the folder of my resumè.

“I see,” he huma. “Why do you want this job?”

I meet his gaze, unflinching. “Because I want to be the best, and I want to earn it on my own merit. I want you to see me as competent, not just… someone connected to you.”

A small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. “Ambitious. I like that.”

The questions start normally, tasks, organization, leadership skills, but soon, the tension between us begins to shift. Our gazes linger a little too long. A brush of fingers across a paper, his hand momentarily resting near mine, sparks that neither of us can ignore.

I clear my throat, trying to focus, but the room is charged, the air thick with something unspoken. One question about managing executive schedules dissolves into a heat neither of us can deny.

“Come here, Leina?” He says, voice gruff.

I oblige, rising to my feet and walking around the table to stand directly in front of him. With a tug at my wrist, I fall on his lap with a shriek.

Before I can muster a word, his hand lands on my lap, traveling upwards.

“Leina,” he murmurs, leaning closer, voice low and deliberate. “Do you realize what you’re doing to me right now?”

“I… I’m trying to focus,” I whisper, though my own voice betrays the truth.

“Seeing you looking so professional and all is getting to my cock, baby.” With that he claims my lips with a fierce, brutal kiss.

I try to match his pace, but he's so skilled at the game that he dominates me completely. “How I'm I going to concentrate if you get me hard just by focusing on your work?” He mutters when we pull away to take a breath.

I trail my hands down his chest and his grip on my waist tightens. “You'll find a way. You've always been so…”I bite my lip, trying to think of a word. “Controlled.”

He claims my lips in another searing kiss. Wild, passionate. Just as his lips leave mine, and begin their journey down my neck, a knock sounds on the door.