Chapter Two – Trapped in His Game
861 Words
I should have thrown the card away.
After all, nothing good ever came from men like Damien Blackwood.
Yet, despite every warning bell screaming in my head, here I was, standing in front of the towering glass skyscraper of Blackwood Enterprises.
The security guard at the entrance barely spared me a glance before waving me through. It was as if Damien had anticipated my arrival.
I gripped the business card in my clammy hands, my stomach twisting with nerves. This was a mistake. A huge mistake. I was just a waitress, I had no business walking into a building that housed one of the most powerful corporations in the country.
And yet, here I was.
Because Damien Blackwood had told me to come.
And like an i***t, I had listened.
Inside the Lion’s Den
The lobby was unlike anything I’d ever seen, marble floors polished to perfection, massive chandeliers glistening like diamonds, and employees dressed in designer suits moving with ruthless efficiency.
I was the only one out of place.
A sleek-looking receptionist with sharp eyes glanced at me over her computer screen.
“Name?” she asked, barely concealing her disdain.
I swallowed. “Sophia Caldwell. I, I was told to come here.”
She arched a perfectly sculpted brow, her gaze sweeping over my cheap dress and worn-out shoes.
“Mr. Blackwood is expecting you.”
My stomach clenched. Expecting me?
Before I could process that, she was already dialing a number.
“Yes, she’s here,” she said smoothly, then hung up. “Take the private elevator to the top floor.”
I stared at her. Top floor. That meant Damien’s office.
I clenched my fingers around the business card until the edges bent.
What the hell was I walking into?
Meeting the Devil Himself
The elevator ride was silent and suffocating. I watched the numbers rise, my heart pounding with each floor I passed.
By the time the doors slid open, I felt like I was walking straight into the devil’s lair.
The office was nothing like I expected.
Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the New York City skyline, giving the space a cold, untouchable air. A massive black desk sat in the center, flanked by leather chairs that probably cost more than my entire rent for a year.
And then there was him.
Damien Blackwood stood by the window, his hands in the pockets of his perfectly tailored suit, his silhouette bathed in the golden glow of the morning light.
When he turned to face me, I felt the same unsettling intensity I had felt the night before.
“You came.”
His voice was smooth, dangerous, as if he had never doubted my decision.
I lifted my chin, ignoring the shiver that ran down my spine. “I almost didn’t.”
The corner of his mouth ticked upward, but his eyes remained unreadable.
“Yet, here you are.”
I gritted my teeth. “What do you want from me?”
Damien stepped forward, his movements slow, deliberate.
“I’m offering you a job.”
My brows furrowed. “A job?”
He nodded. “As my personal assistant.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “I’m a waitress, not some corporate secretary.”
Damien’s gaze flicked to my trembling fingers, the way I clenched the business card so tightly it was practically falling apart.
“You’re desperate,” he said simply. “You need money.”
My face burned.
I hated that he saw right through me.
He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I can give you that, Sophia. More money than you’ve ever had in your life.”
I swallowed hard. “Why me?”
His lips curled slightly, amusement flickering in his expression. “Because you interest me.”
A chill ran down my spine.
This wasn’t just about a job.
This was about control.
A Deal I Couldn’t Refuse
I should have said no.
I should have walked out and never looked back.
But then Damien slid a contract across the desk.
I glanced at the numbers and felt my entire world tilt.
This wasn’t just a job, it was life-changing.
The salary was more than I had ever dreamed of. Enough to get out of my shitty apartment. Enough to finally breathe.
But beneath the staggering offer, there were… rules.
24/7 availability.
No personal relationships that interfere with the job.
No quitting without his approval.
I felt my throat tighten. This wasn’t just employment, it was a cage.
I lifted my gaze to his, searching for some kind of explanation.
But Damien Blackwood was an enigma. He didn’t beg. He didn’t persuade. He simply waited.
Like he already knew I would say yes.
My hands shook as I picked up the pen.
I should have walked away.
Instead, I signed my name.
The second I lifted the pen, Damien plucked the contract from my hands, his smirk deepening.
“Good girl.”
A shiver ran down my spine at the way he said it, possessive. Final.
And in that moment, I knew,
I had just made a deal with a man who didn’t believe in letting go.
- Writer
