THE GAME BEGINS

ELENA'S POV

I sat in the car in uncomfortable silence as we drove to work. My mind was itching with questions to ask, about what my job was and what exactly I'd be doing. I didn't have much experience, as I had just taken over the company before I was wrongfully accused and jailed. But despite all the questions in my head, I couldn't bring myself to ask.

He'd already pissed me off this morning by asking me to change. I knew for sure he just wanted to control me, even to the littlest detail, but I won't let him get the best of me. The new outfit, a blue office couture I had changed into, was more fitted, more cinched than the last, but he didn't seem to notice, or mind at all.

As we reached the towering building that was Vance Industries, a valet came for the car and waited for us to get off. A group of men sighted us and bowed, although some of them had their gaze on me lingering longer than usual. I heard a soft growl beside me, and I turned to see Damien staring menacingly at the men, who looked everywhere else but at us nervously. 

That's fucking odd. Is he jealous or something?

"Stick close to me," I heard him say. We walked into the building, and I followed him to the elevator. I didn't know where I was yet, so I couldn't afford to wander off. Besides, I came here to work and earn my keep to buy Carter Cosmetics shares from Charlotte, not to hang around, sit still and look pretty.

In spite of all this, I wondered why Damien was yet to tell me my job description. I decided to feed my curiosity and let my mouth go faster than my head to ask. "What kind of job will I be doing, Vance?"

He didn't respond as the elevator passed the fifth floor. I seethed, peeved. Annoying twerp.

"Will it kill you if you don't ignore me, like, ever?" I snapped.

"You'll know when you get there," he finally answered after ignoring me for a few more seconds. This infuriating man just likes to step on my toes and drive me to the brink of madness.

"Fuck off."

"Cute," he muttered and chuckled, and the rich tone sent shivers down my spine. I could only imagine how they'd sound between my legs.

Snap out of it, Elena. Clear your filthy head. He's the bane of your existence. No thinking about how he sounds in bed.

I shook my head to clear my mind of dirty thoughts, especially one that involves Damien and I tangled in between his sheets and a lot of tongue, just as the door of the elevator opened at the sixteenth floor. I gulped, as if to squash the heat building up and pooling down there. Just think of him as a douchebag and you'll be fine, Elena, I consoled myself.

A very dashing, very sexy douchebag.

Stop it.

I tried my best to remain composed, following Damien as several eyes followed both of us, the stares and the murmurs afterwards starting to make me feel uncomfortable. I scooched closer to Damien and avoided their eyes, letting out a sigh of relief when we were finally in the comfort of his office. A petite-looking woman walked in with files in hand.

"Oh hi," she gushed as soon as her eyes fell on me, reaching out to hug me. 

I waved nervously. "Hi, I'm El__ I mean Celine," I said, biting my lips at the slip-up. But she seemed not to have picked it, or if she did, she didn't look like she cared to probe about it as she hugged me tighter.

"Hi, darling', I'm Hilda. Nice to meet you." 

"I don't pay you to fraternise at work, Hilda," Damien grumbled, and she laughed, brushing him off. 

"Relax, Mr. Vance. I should accord your wife the respect she deserves." She handed him the bunch of files she'd walked in with, and he took them from her, reading through them and signing where necessary.

My eyebrow shot up, almost reaching my hairline. "H-how?"

"I could tell by the matching wedding band," she chuckled, and I smiled, relieved. Perceptive, I like that. I just knew that we would be best of friends.

I turned to Damien. "Care to tell me what my job description is now?" I asked, impatient.

He looked at Hilda. "Please call in the head of HR to my office with what I asked her for," he instructed, and she left. I plopped down on the couch facing his desk, waiting and pissed that he'd gone back to ignoring me.

Jerk.

About fifteen minutes later, a slender woman walked in with a manila folder in hand. She looked beautiful, almost blinding, but her outfit was more revealing than my first work outfit. Her boobs were caged, squished and space depraved in an almost exposed form fitting shirt, to the point that if she bent low enough, they'd fall out. Her skirt was shockingly short, so I wondered if she came here to work. Suddenly, everything about her seemed vain and fake.

She smiled sweetly at Damien, bending over his desk seductively. I now knew why she was dressed this way. I scoffed in disbelief, This was why he'd said a lot of women will drop their panties at the mere sight of him.

"You called for me, Damien," she purred, and I fought the urge to puke out of disgust. It was sickening to watch, and I got to my feet, clearing my throat.

"Is that my employment letter?" I asked, reaching for the folder. It was then she noticed my presence, and her face scrunched up, looking at me disgustedly.

"Who are you?" she spat, eyeing me evilly. "Who is she?" she turned to Damien.

"You'll do well to treat her with respect, Miss Dennis, or you'll lose your job," Damien cut her off. I smiled victoriously even if I didn't really do anything, and she turned red with anger. I pried the folder out of her hands.

"Run along," I said, a sickly sweet yet fake smile on my face.

"Oh, and Miss Dennis," Damien added. "It's Mr. Vance to you, not Damien."