All Chapters of Touched by the Billionaire, Owned by the Devil: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

The light through the balcony doors was too bright and my head was pounding, and the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was the empty side of the bed. I reached for her before I remembered. My hand moved across the cold sheets, searching for the warmth that should have been there, and the absence hit me harder than any hangover. The gala. The drugged drink. The woman on the balcony with the dark hair and the tired eyes and the smile that looked like it hadn't been used in years. She was gone. I sat up slowly because the room tilted when I moved too fast. The suite was quiet except for the traffic noise filtering up from the street below. Her dress was gone from the floor and her shoes were missing, but the blanket was still draped over me, a blanket I definitely hadn't pulled up myself. She had covered me before she left. Even in her rush to escape, she had paused long enough to make sure I wasn't cold, and I pressed my palm against the fabric while something twisted in my ch

The Vale Industries building was all glass and steel, the kind of place that made you feel small just walking up to the front doors. I stood on the sidewalk for a full minute with my resume clutched in my hand and my heart hammering against my ribs, and I had to remind myself that I'd handled worse things than a job interview. I'd handled VIP guests who screamed at me over pillow thread counts. I'd handled a husband who tracked my phone and counted my paychecks. A room full of strangers asking questions couldn't be worse than that. The lobby was cold and quiet, with marble floors that echoed every footstep and a receptionist who looked me up and down before asking my name. I told her, and she tapped something into her computer while I stood there in my old hotel uniform, the only professional clothes I owned. The cuffs were frayed and the fabric was worn thin at the elbows, but I had steamed it the night before and ironed the collar until it lay flat. It would have to be enough. "T

The first morning at Vale Industries, I sat at my new desk and watched the office move around me like I wasn't there. People walked past with coffee cups and tablets, their conversations low and quick, and no one stopped. No one introduced themselves. I was a new chair in a room full of old furniture, and everyone was waiting to see if I'd be gone by next week. I learned the coffee machine before I learned any names. Black, no sugar, on Gideon Vale's desk before the morning briefing. He took the cup without looking up, and when he set it down empty, he still hadn't spoken a word. That was fine. I hadn't expected a welcome party. The filing system I learned the hard way. Later that week, I organized a stack of contracts by category, the way I'd done it at the hotel. Gideon flipped through them, pulled one out, and dropped the whole pile back on my desk. "Again." I stayed late that night, redoing everything by date first, and the next morning he picked up the files, flipped through th

The coastal projections were due by Friday, and Gideon wanted them cross-referenced with the Blackstone financials before the legal meeting. I stayed late on Wednesday to finish them. The office emptied out around six, and by seven I was alone with my spreadsheets and the hum of the air conditioning. I had kicked off my shoes under the desk. My hair had escaped its tie an hour ago, and I kept blowing strands out of my face while I scrolled. The numbers weren't matching. Three projections, same error. My back ached from hunching, but I couldn't stop. Not yet. At seven-thirty, the cleaning crew rolled past with their carts. One of them, a woman with bright pink headphones, waved at me through the glass. I waved back. She mimed drinking something. I held up my empty coffee cup, and she gave me a thumbs-down and kept walking. Even the cleaning crew knew I needed caffeine. Gideon came out of his office at eight with two cups of coffee. He set one on my desk and kept the other. "Y

The bruise on my wrist had turned purple by morning. I covered it with concealer and wore long sleeves despite the office heat. The mark was small but precise, exactly where his thumb had pressed into the bone. I practiced holding my arm so the sleeve wouldn't ride up when I reached for things. The train was crowded and a man with a briefcase knocked into me without apologizing. I gripped the overhead rail and watched the city blur past. My wrist throbbed. The concealer was already starting to wear off. Gideon was already in his office when I arrived. He didn't look up from his monitor, but he gestured toward my desk as I passed. A cup of coffee was waiting there. Black, no sugar. I sat down and wrapped my fingers around the cup. The warmth seeped into my palm. He hadn't said anything. He never said anything. But the coffee was there every morning now, and I was starting to understand that this was how he communicated. The morning briefing was short. Carla walked us through