Bound by the Billionaire's Revenge

Under His Control

​The silence in the executive corridor grew heavier. Victor stood by the elevator lobby, his eyes narrowed sharply as he stared at Rose.

​Rose didn't move from behind her desk. She clutched the construction project folder tightly against her chest, trying to calm her racing heart.

​"I'm sorry, sir," Rose said quietly, breaking the silence. "I never learned how to drive."

​Victor let out a harsh, heavy breath. He ran his right hand back through his hair, a clear sign of his frustration. He glanced at his luxury watch. It was already 1:50 PM.

​"Unbelievable," Victor muttered dryly. "First day on the job, and my personal assistant is already running us late for a major meeting."

​He turned on his heel and stabbed the elevator button.

​"Follow me," Victor ordered coldly, not looking back.

​Rose hurried after his broad back. When the executive elevator doors slid open, they stepped into the cramped, mirrored space. Neither spoke. Rose took her place in the furthest corner, while Victor stood straight in front of the doors, his presence filling the small cabin.

​The elevator dropped quickly toward the private basement. The moment the doors chimed open, Victor strode out, cutting through the rows of neatly parked luxury cars. He stopped in front of a brand-new metallic black sedan.

​The car lights flashed as Victor hit the key fob. He opened the driver's side door and climbed in, completely ignoring Rose.

​Rose walked around the hood. Without thinking, she reached for the rear passenger handle, intending to sit in the back.

​"Rose."

​Victor’s deep baritone cut her off. The driver's window was halfway down, revealing his deeply annoyed expression.

​"Do I look like your chauffeur?" Victor asked dryly, his eyes locking onto her hand still gripping the rear handle.

​Rose froze. She pulled her hand back awkwardly.

​"Get in the front," Victor commanded. "I don't run a taxi service for my personal assistant."

​Rose swallowed hard. She hurried to the front, opened the passenger door, and climbed into the seat with stiff movements. The rich, masculine scent of Victor's cologne immediately hit her nose as she sank into the plush leather.

​The engine roared to life. Victor shifted into drive and hit the gas, navigating the luxury sedan into the swelling afternoon traffic of New York City.

​The tension inside the car was suffocating. The only sounds were the quiet hum of the engine and the navigation prompts from the dashboard screen. Rose stole a glance at Victor's profile. His jaw was set tight, his focus entirely on the road ahead.

​"Open the folder," Victor said suddenly, shattering the quiet.

​Rose flinched slightly, then quickly opened the thick folder on her lap. "Which section should I read, sir?"

​"The budget proposal for the foundation structure. Give me the total amount requested by the general contractor."

​Rose flipped through the pages with slightly trembling fingers, looking for the financial summary sheet. "The total budget they proposed is thirty-five million dollars, sir. That covers the primary materials and the next six months of labor."

​Victor scoffed, a cynical smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Thirty-five million. They really think they can rip off the Halston Group."

​He pulled the car smoothly up to the valet at a five-star hotel in Manhattan, where the meeting was taking place. A valet worker hurried over and opened Victor’s door.

​Victor got out, followed by Rose, who was carrying all the meeting materials. Before stepping into the lobby, Victor stopped in front of her.

"Once we're inside, write down every objection I raise." His gaze held hers for a second. "Don't miss anything."

​Rose could only nod stiffly, feeling the warm brush of his breath against her skin.

​The negotiation with the contractor in the private conference room was brutal. For two solid hours, Victor tore through the thirty-five million dollar budget proposal without mercy. His deep, calm voice carried a heavy pressure that forced the other side to cut their inflated material costs.

​Rose sat at the edge of the table, her fingers moving constantly across her laptop keyboard. She logged every adjusted figure and every negotiated clause, trying to ignore the dull headache forming from missing lunch.

​When the meeting finally ended and the contractors excused themselves with tense expressions, a familiar silence settled over the room.

​Victor leaned back in his chair, loosening his tie slightly. His sharp eyes shifted to Rose, who was packing up her laptop charger.

​"Email me the minutes and the revised budget draft before seven tonight," Victor said, cutting through the quiet.

​Rose looked up, her movements pausing briefly. "Yes, sir."

​They walked back to the lobby to retrieve the car. Manhattan in the late afternoon was a blur of steam rising from the grates and the constant blare of yellow cab horns. As soon as Victor’s black sedan pulled up, Rose went straight for the front passenger door without being told.

​The drive back to the Halston Group office was slow, bogged down by heavy traffic along Fifth Avenue. In the quiet cabin, Rose’s exhaustion finally caught up with her. The toll of staying up all night at the hospital, combined with the stress of the morning, made her eyelids impossibly heavy.

​Rose tried looking out the window, watching the luxury storefronts pass by, hoping the blast from the AC would keep her awake. But every time the car stopped at a red light, her consciousness slipped further away. Her head nodded a few times until she finally lost the battle. Her head tilted, resting against the window pane as she fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.

​Victor shifted gears when the light turned green, but he paused as he glanced to his right.

​His eyes lingered on Rose. She looked incredibly fragile in her sleep. The dark circles under her eyes were more prominent under the fading afternoon light filtering through the window. Her breathing was steady, a stark contrast to the rigid tension she had carried all morning.

​"Is this really what you chose over me, Rose?" he murmured under his breath.

​Victor eased his foot off the gas slightly, letting the car glide more smoothly through the Manhattan traffic. His eyes flicked back to her sleeping face every now and then, harboring a thousand unanswered questions.