A Deal With The Billionaire

The Boardroom Battle

CHAPTER 7

Rose’s POV

I had been tossing and turning in bed since getting that anonymous message. I had managed to keep it away from Damien by telling him it was just a stupid ad pop-up.

When I could no longer lie comfortably on the bed, I slowly snuck out of the room, careful not to wake Damien, who was in a universe of his own.

Calling Ariana was the first thing that came to my mind. I should do that before I finally sign the contract tomorrow. But what would I tell her? That I broke into the Sterling house? That I found out he might know about my sister's disappearance? That marrying him out of the blue would help me find my sister?

For a long minute, I held my phone, debating whether or not to call her. As if on cue, my phone rang.

"Hey," I picked up and answered.

"Oh my god! You're really alive."

I frowned. "What? What do you mean, Ariana?"

She sighed. "There is a theory going around work that you were probably killed by the devil, and now your soul is being paraded as his fiancée."

I almost cursed her out for what she just said, but I decided to let it go. "Well, the good news is that I'm alive. The bad news is, yes, I'm getting married to Damien Sterling."

Silence, and then Ariana spoke again.

"What's he like? Is he truly a wicked man? Is he abusive? Why is marrying him bad news?"

I knew then that I couldn't trust Ariana enough to tell her everything, judging by how she asked me all the questions like a journalist. Instead, I hung up the call and slid down the wall, the outside breeze blowing my hair to my face.

Slowly and steadily, I found myself embracing sleep. Before I could escape it, sleep found me and whisked me away.

Rrrrring!

I jerked awake, gasping loudly as my heart pounded like a war drum. I looked around, glancing at the mirror before me that painted my reflection like a tired widow, eyes smudged with mascara and frizzy hair.

Still groggy, I made my way down the stairs, and the wafting smell of coffee and pancakes led me to the kitchen. Damien was already seated at the table, newspaper in hand, laptop opened before him.

"Good morning to you, Miss Rose," he greeted without even sparing me a glance.

That crushed my spirit more than I would like to admit. Still, I grabbed a mug and poured myself some coffee.

"You shouldn't have brought me inside last night." I began, grabbing some pancakes and stacking them on my plate. "I was fine where I was."

"Again," he flipped the pages. "I didn't want you to have frostbite. The air was too cold."

"I was fine..."

"Says the one whose teeth chattered louder than a creaking maize milling machine." He dropped the newspaper then and looked at me. I would give anything to stab his eyes with a fork for comparing me to a milling machine.

"At least, I don't snore like my ego is stuck in my throat."

That must have hit below the belt because he grunted and sipped his coffee instead of responding. With a triumphant smile, I popped a fork of pancakes into my mouth.

For the rest of the morning, Damien remained in his study room, typing away whatever on his laptop. While I would have loved to revel in the luxury of sharing his wealth, I couldn't shake the thought of him hiding something from me.

So I began to walk around his house, flashing his workers a polite smile. Most of them exaggerated their acts of service, thinking I was trying to supervise their work. I wasn't there for them. I was there for my sister.

"Lily could have gone there." That stopped me dead in my tracks in front of the study room. "I don't care. I can't believe you did that to her."

What did this person do to her? Did Damien know more than he was letting on?

My phone pinged. I checked and saw it was a message from the unknown number again. I quickly opened it to see what was sent this time.

"DAMIEN KNOWS MORE THAN YOU IMAGINE. FIND OUT!"

Who the hell is this person? How is the unknown number always a step ahead?

Rather than wallow in my questions, I grabbed my phone tighter and decided to find out things myself. Dressed in a white shirt with ruffles as collars and a white pencil skirt with black flares at the end, making it fall a bit longer over my knees. I put on a pair of Christian Louboutin heels and styled my hair in classic sophisticated French twists before adding powder, pink lip gloss, and some mascara on my face.

The cab stopped at a tall, dystopian building filled with transparent glass and silver decor. A large 3D letter signage read, The Sterling Group.

A smile pulled the corner of my lips. Madison's lessons are useful after all.

"Good morning, ma'am. How may I help you?" A tall, blonde-haired woman with boobs larger than her head stood to ask, her expression snobby.

I flashed her a smile, hoping that would diffuse the air. "Actually, I..." Calling myself his fiancee tasted more like poison, so I caught myself. "Could you lead me to Damien's office instead? I'm sure you know who I am."

She glared at me like I was some invisible wall for a long time until I waved at her. Her eyes roamed my body for another excruciatingly long period before she called out.

"Evelyn?" A redhead popped up from behind the desk, her green eyes piercingly bright. "Can you tell this woman before me that even the CEO of this company wouldn't dare cross the halls of Mr. Sterling?"

The woman called Evelyn turned to me, and after another eye assessment from her, she spoke up. "Listen, I don't know what you must have heard, but Mr. Sterling doesn't deal with harlots. It would be best if you stopped your delusional fantasy and went to find a better job."