LOGINBEVERLYThe quiet stillness of Sunday afternoon at the estate always carried a restful, peaceful charm.I had spent the morning in my sunroom studio, sketching initial concepts for my design project, before deciding to head down to the main floor to grab a bottle of chilled water. The mansion was usually hushed on weekends, save for the soft hum of the climate control and the occasional step of the household staff moving discreetly through the corridors.As I approached the grand hallway leading past Damian’s private home office, however, I noticed the heavy double oak doors were slightly ajar.A low, oppressive tension seemed to bleed out into the hallway—a atmosphere far heavier and darker than any corporate briefing I had ever witnessed on the 50th floor of Vance Global.I paused near the carved archway, my bare feet silent against the cold marble floor."I don't care about your supply logistics in the southern district, Frank," a voice rasped—not Damian's, but a rough, harsh tone
BEVERLY Saturday evening arrived with a cool, refreshing autumn breeze that rustled the golden leaves lining the city streets. The steakhouse Julian talked about was tucked away in a quiet, historic building downtown. Inside, the atmosphere was warm and cozy, filled with the soft glow of amber lamps, dark leather booths, and the rich scent of grilled cuts and fine wine. It wasn't a lifestyle club or a hidden private lounge—it was just a beautiful, high-end restaurant where normal couples came to enjoy a great meal. When Damian and I stepped through the front entrance, Marcus and Julian were already seated at a wide, comfortable booth near the back. "Beverly!" Julian grinned the second he saw me, waving his hand enthusiastically. I smiled bright, stepping over to the booth as Damian held my coat. Julian was dressed casually but sharply in a cream knit sweater, his dark hair soft and neatly combed. He wasn't wearing his choker tonight, but as I sat down beside him, I caught the su
BEVERLY The final two weeks of my internship passed in a quiet, smooth rhythm that almost felt surreal compared to how the month had started. With the memorandum officially on record, the awkward tension on Floor 50 vanished entirely. People treated me normally. When I delivered filing binders to Arthur or coordinated scheduling with Sarah, there were no strange glances or hushed conversations. I was simply a competent intern finishing out her required hours, and everybody knew that when five o'clock came, I walked out of the building hand-in-hand with Damian. It was a chilly Friday afternoon when I finally packed up my desk for the very last time. My three months were officially complete. My university evaluation forms were filled out, signed by Arthur with glowing marks, and neatly stored in my leather tote bag. On Monday, I would be heading back to campus as a full-time student to start my very last year of university. Sarah walked over to my desk around four o'clock, carryin
BEVERLYFriday morning arrived with a clear, crisp blue sky over the city.I woke up early in Damian’s master bedroom, the sun streaming through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows. For the first time in weeks, the quiet flutter in my stomach wasn't caused by anxiety or fear of what people were saying. The constant weight of keeping a massive secret had finally lifted, leaving behind a peaceful, calm certainty.Damian was already dressed in his dark suit when I walked into his walk-in closet. He stood in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting his tie. I walked up behind him, stepping into his space, and wrapped my arms around his waist from behind. I rested my cheek against his broad back, taking in the clean scent of his soap and cologne.He stopped what he was doing and laid his large, warm hands over mine where they rested against his stomach."Good morning, little one," Damian rumbled, his deep voice filling the quiet room."Good morning," I murmured, looking up at his reflecti
BEVERLY The initial shock of the first scandal had barely settled into the background noise of the corporate tower when the second strike landed, sharp, ruthless, and far more intimate than the last. It was a quiet Thursday morning, exactly seven days after our evening out at the St. Regis Lounge. I was at my desk on Floor 50, quietly organizing a set of international compliance binders, when Sarah’s terminal let out a sharp, audible ping. I glanced over, catching the sudden, horrifying drain of color from her face as she stared at her screen. Within seconds, the familiar, uncomfortable static settled over the open administrative floor. I didn't need to check my inbox to know what had dropped. A fresh digital thread had been published to an off-site corporate gossip forum—a widely read, unmoderated message board frequently used by financial district employees. Attached to the post were three high-resolution photographs taken over several different evenings. The images didn't sho
BEVERLY The hum of the secondary elevator bank on the 38th floor was a low, mechanical purr that vibrated through the soles of my heels. I stood near the back corner of the stainless-steel cab, balancing a towering stack of blue archival ledgers that Arthur Harrison had tasked me with retrieving from the regulatory compliance department. The files were stacked nearly to my chin, creating a broad, paper shield that completely obscured my face and upper body from anyone stepping inside. At the 35th floor, the elevator doors glided open with a soft chime. Three women from corporate communications stepped into the cab, their heels clicking sharply against the floorboards as they settled near the front doors, oblivious to my presence behind the heavy stack of paper. "Did you see the security update this morning?" one of the women whispered, her voice laced with sharp, eager excitement. "Corporate IT wiped the entire media forum. You can't even search the intern tags anymore." "Of cour
BEVERLY The remaining bite of my pancake suddenly tasted a lot like victory. I chewed slowly, my eyes locked on Damian as he finished the last of his coffee. The man drank it black, obviously. No sugar, no cream, just pure, bitter energy to fuel whatever dark empire he ran when he wasn’t busy lur
BEVERLY I woke up entangled in my duvet with no idea about how and when I actually fell asleep. There is no need for me to actually hide out in my room. He must have definitely disappeared again ,just as usual. Getting off my warm and extremely comfortable bed,I went into the bathroom to shower
BEVERLY I recognised his voice from the numerous calls and late night chatting over the phone. I finally saw him, my crush,the man who has been taking care of me in place of my father. The kiss flashed through my mind again. That was the first time I ever got turned on from a kiss. God.
BEVERLY Having a crush on an older, more capable man had completely ruined dating for me. No guy my age ever measured up. Not when I knew what it felt like to be cared for by someone who remembered every little thing about me. Someone who listened when I spoke. Someone whose voice alone cou







