Bound by billionaire curse

Zina adjusted the collar of her borrowed blazer for the tenth time and exhaled slowly, staring up at the gleaming glass tower in front of her. Cole Global. The name alone had power. The kind of power that made people hush when it was spoken. And today, she was walking straight into it. Well—sneaking into it, technically. Her phone buzzed in her purse. A message from Lara, her best friend and accomplice. LARA: You sure you want to do this? Zina didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Her hands were shaking too badly. One mistake, one wrong look, and everything would crumble. But desperation had a funny way of drowning fear. Rent was overdue. Her younger brother was sick. Her mother was behind on medicine. Zina had tried everything: selling wigs, helping with laundry, even working double shifts at the food stall. Nothing had worked. The only thing she hadn’t tried… was lying. And now she was pretending to be someone named Amaka Johnson, a highly recommended assistant from an agency that didn’t even exist. Her fake résumé? Courtesy of Lara’s Photoshop skills. Her interview time? Snatched from a canceled applicant she overheard while cleaning in the building next door. Zina squared her shoulders and walked into the lobby. The interior of Cole Global was like nothing she’d ever seen. Polished marble floors. Gold accents. A digital waterfall wall. The kind of place that screamed money. She approached the front desk where a woman with a sharp bun and sharper cheekbones gave her a once-over. “Name?” the woman asked without smiling. Zina cleared her throat. “Amaka Johnson. Here for the assistant position.” The receptionist clicked on her screen, paused, then nodded. “You’re early. Mr. Cole’s meeting ran over, but you’re expected. Please take the elevator to the 31st floor.” Zina almost collapsed in relief. The name had worked. She whispered a silent thank-you to the universe—or maybe just to Lara—and walked toward the elevator before she could be questioned. --- The ride to the 31st floor felt like ascending into a different world. Her reflection in the mirrored elevator walls stared back at her, confident on the outside, terrified inside. As the doors slid open, she stepped into a hallway that looked more like a five-star hotel than an office. A tall man in a dark gray suit stood at the end, tapping on a tablet. He looked up, expression unreadable. “Miss Johnson?” Zina nodded. “Yes, sir.” He gave a small nod. “Follow me. Mr. Cole will see you now.” Her heart thudded. This is it. The moment her lie became her reality. --- The office she entered was massive—floor-to-ceiling windows, a mahogany desk, leather seating, and a view of Lagos that made her breath catch. Behind the desk stood the most intimidating man she had ever seen. Damien Cole. Tall. Dark. Devilishly handsome. His fitted black suit looked like it had been tailored by the gods themselves. His presence filled the room, and his ice-gray eyes locked on her the moment she walked in. “Miss Johnson,” he said, voice smooth but cold. “Sit.” She obeyed instantly, her legs wobbling slightly. He didn’t look up from his laptop. “Your résumé is impressive. Four languages, three assistant roles, and a degree from Cambridge. I take it you're used to high pressure?” Zina forced a smile. “Yes. I thrive in it.” Damien’s eyes lifted slowly. “We’ll see.” For a moment, silence stretched between them. Zina could feel her pulse in her throat. “Why do you want this job?” he asked suddenly. The lie was ready on her tongue. “I want to grow. To learn under someone exceptional.” He leaned back, watching her like a predator watching prey. “You want to grow under me?” Zina flushed. “I mean—professionally. Sir.” A smirk flickered at the edge of his mouth. Just for a second. Then it was gone. He stood. “Fine. You’re hired. Trial period: one week. You don’t survive, you’re out.” Zina’s breath caught. Hired? Just like that? “Thank you, sir. I won’t disappoint you,” she managed to say. “I hope not,” he replied, walking toward the window. She stood to leave, but his voice stopped her. “One more thing, Miss Johnson.” “Yes?” Damien turned slightly, and for a split second, something passed over his face. A shadow. A flicker of pain—or warning. “Do not touch anything in this office unless I tell you to. Do not ask questions about my past. And do not enter the west wing of this floor. Ever.” Zina blinked. “Understood.” He nodded once. “Your desk is outside. Marcus will brief you.” She stepped out of the office, heart racing, trying to make sense of what had just happened. She had lied. And been hired by the most powerful—and most dangerous—man in the city. What she didn’t know yet was that her biggest lie… had just made her part of something far darker than she imagined.