Chapter 4: The Winners

The ballroom sparkled with lights, filled with people's laughter, clink of glasses, and conversations flittered through from every corner.

Damien Calloway stood at the center of it all, his Armani suit fit perfectly, every part of him exuding power.

Selene stood beside him, graceful in a white Vera Wang dress, her presence matched his, like they were meant to be together.

A perfect pair.

The perfect power couple.

“Another deal in the bag,” Selene said softly, leaning close to him, “You must be feeling on top of the world right now, Damien”

Damien gave her a tight smile, though his thoughts were far from the celebration around him.

Calla.

The name floated in his mind like a bad memory, and he couldn’t seem to shake it off, why the fuck didn't she just sign the divorce papers. what is she playing at. Damien wondered.

Selene noticed the shift in his expression. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

Damien masked his thoughts with a smile. "Nothing," he said. "Just tired."

Selene didn't buy it, but she didn’t push.

“We should enjoy this moment,” she said, “You worked hard for it.”

Damien nodded, though his thoughts were still miles away.

The Calla bitch had torn the papers, instead of doing as she was told. What gave her the audacity.

Selene leaned in for a kiss, but Damien barely responded.

Damien met her gaze, his eyes clouded with annoyance and anger, softened.

He had made an error in marrying Calla, but it had been Selene's idea to get a nobody, someone all alone and very malleable to carry out the plan. Left to him alone, he would not have bothered.

Her eyes lingered on him for a moment, wondering what he could be thinking.

She then he smiled at him, “Well, let’s celebrate this. You and me, together in bed. We’ve earned it.”

She was still holding his hand, and he didn’t pull away.

He kicked the thoughts of Calla off his mind, he would sort her out in due time, meanwhile, better things awaited him.

Selene leaned closer again, her lips brushing against his ear. “You know,” she whispered, “I’m gonna suck you hard.

Damien stiffened slightly, “We’ll see,” he said, his voice low.

He let her lead, forgetting the nutjob Calla, he had his men watch her, so he would get briefed later.

“I’ll take care of you,” Selene said, smiling brightly. “I always do.”

Damien didn’t reply immediately.

The victory tonight felt hollow. No matter how many deals he closed, no matter how many millions he made, it didn’t change the one stain he had.

Calla.

…

Calla woke slowly, the warmth of the bed so foreign, soft sheets cocooned her, brushing her skin softly. It had been a long time since she had slept so nicely.

For a fleeting moment, she thought she was dreaming.

The room bathed in a soft golden light that filtered through sheer curtains.

Everything around her was tastefully feminine, deep red velvet bedcovers and pillows, with pale pink linens, art on the walls. She could identify a Picasso, she thought absently. Maybe two.

Then memory crept in.

Killian.

She was in Killian Black’s house.

The illusion she had had shattered like glass.

She pushed the covers back, her legs swinging to the side. Her bare feet touched polished Arabian tiles.

She rose slowly, each step toward the door.

When she opened it, he was there.

Killian.

He stood at the end of the hall, tall and composed, watching her with that unreadable expression.

“Morning,” he said, voice calm and unreadable.

She met his eyes, wary. “Morning.”

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yes. Thank you... for letting me stay the night.”

He said nothing, and only gestured down the hall. “Come. I have something for you.”

She followed without a word.

The study door was open. Inside, shadows danced along the edges of the room, broken only by the glow of a solitary desk lamp.

He motioned to the chair across from him.

She hesitated, then sat.

The desk was chaotic, there were papers, photographs & legal files.

He slid a thick folder toward her. “That’s for you.”

She blinked, cautious. “What is it?”

“A job offer.”

Her body stiffened. Her fingers hovered over the file but didn’t touch it. “What kind of job?”

Killian leaned forward. His tone was quiet, almost intimate. “Be my escort.”

She stared at him. “Escort?”

He didn’t flinch. “You accompany me. You protect my interests. You make sure my needs, personal and professional, are met.”

She stood up so fast the chair nearly tipped. “Absolutely not.”

“You haven’t heard the rest.”

“I don’t need to.” Her voice trembled. Anger simmered beneath the surface. “And I don’t need your help to destroy Damien and Selene. I’ll do that myself.”

She stood up to leave.

“Where are you going to?” He asked.

“I’m leaving, thanks a lot for last night, but I have to be on my way now.”

“No, you're not!” he barked,

“Who is going to stop me?”

“I will.”

“Why?”

“You belong to me now!”, his voice sharp, “besides you've no where to go to.”

“I don't belong to you or anyone else.” She screamed, “And you are not to tell me what to do!”

“You do as I say, or else.” He gulped down his whiskey in a glass, then angrily left the study with her in it.”