Dark obsession

6:am Dubai flight

*STORY 4: CHAPTER 2*

The text came at5:13 am

`Blackwood: Car is downstairs. Don't be late.`

I stared at my phone. My "interview suit" from yesterday was wrinkled on the floor. My entire life was in a duffel bag because "personal assistant" apparently meant "no home time."

6AM. His penthouse.

The driver didn't speak. The elevator went straight to the top floor. And when the doors opened, he was already there.

Damien Blackwood.

Suit. No tie. Coffee in one hand. Looking at me like I was 20 minutes late even though it was 5:59AM.

"You're wearing that?" His eyes dragged over my black blazer and slacks.

"Yes sir."

"Good. You look employable." He turned. "Jet leaves in 20."

A private jet. Of course it was a private jet.

The flight to Dubai was 14 hours.

Rule #1 was established before we even took off.

"Sit." He pointed to the seat across from his desk. "Don't speak unless I ask you something. Don't touch me. Don't look at me unless I’m talking to you."

"Yes sir."

For the first 3 hours it was silence. Just the hum of the engines and the clicking of his pen. He worked. I took notes. My back hurt. My eyes hurt.

At hour 4, he finally looked up.

"You're hungry."

It wasn't a question.

"I’m fine, sir."

"Ms. Vance. When I say you're hungry, you're hungry." He pressed a button. "Food."

A flight attendant appeared with a tray. Salmon. Rice. Water.

I ate under his stare. Every bite felt like a test.

"Good girl." The words slipped out before I could stop them.

I froze. Did he just—

Damien didn't react. Just went back to his laptop. But the corner of his mouth twitched.

Hour 9. Turbulence.

The plane dropped and I grabbed the armrest. My knuckles went white.

"Look at me."

I did. His eyes were calm. Annoyingly calm.

"Breathe, Ms. Vance. You're not going to die on my jet. That would be inconvenient."

I exhaled. "Yes sir."

"Better."

By hour 12, I was exhausted. I must've dozed off because I woke up to a blanket over my legs.

Damien was still working.

"Didn't tell you to sleep."

"I’m sorry—"

"Don't be." He didn't look up. "You worked 19 hours yesterday. You’re allowed 20 minutes."

20 minutes. He was counting.

When we landed in Dubai, it was midnight. The heat hit like a wall.

A car was waiting. He got in. I followed.

"Your room is next to mine." He said it casually, like he was talking about the weather. "Curfew is 11PM. You answer my phone. You answer my emails. You answer to me."

I nodded. My throat was dry.

The hotel was all glass and gold. His suite had 2 doors. One for him. One for me.

Before he went in, he stopped.

"Ms. Vance."

"Yes sir?"

"For the record..." His voice dropped. "You did good today."

The door closed.

I stood there, holding my duffel bag, heart pounding.

My arrogant CEO didn't just promote me.

He was testing me.

And I had a feeling I was failing... in the best way possible.

---

*END CHAPTER*