CHAPTER 9
968 Words
Arielle woke up to the sound of rain tapping against the glass windows.
New York mornings always had that strange mix of chaos and calm honking taxis below, the smell of coffee brewing somewhere, and the sky still struggling to decide if it wanted to be gray or blue.
She stretched lazily, still wrapped in the soft silk sheets Damon insisted she sleep in. It had only been a few days since she started working for him as his executive assistant, but everything already felt… different.
Confusingly different.
Because somehow, between the sarcasm, the bickering, and the late-night work calls Damon and Arielle had started to blur the lines.
Last night was proof of that.
She remembered his gaze intense, unreadable when he’d leaned closer during dinner. The air had been thick with tension, not anger, not fear, but something else. Something that made her heartbeat trip over itself.
Now, lying there, she couldn’t stop replaying the moment when his hand brushed hers accidentally or maybe intentionally.
And how the world seemed to stop for just a second.
“Good morning, sleepyhead.”
Arielle turned her head, startled. Damon stood by the doorway, shirt slightly unbuttoned, hair still damp from the shower. He looked too effortlessly perfect for someone who was supposed to be a workaholic billionaire.
“You cooked?” she asked, noticing the tray in his hand.
He smirked. “Don’t sound so shocked. I do know how to use a kitchen. Eggs, bacon, coffee. Black, just how you like it.”
“You stalker,” she teased.
“Observation skills,” he corrected, setting the tray beside her. “I pay attention. Especially to people who intrigue me.”
Her heart skipped. “So I… intrigue you?”
He looked at her for a long moment. “More than I’d like to admit.”
The air grew heavy again charged, intimate, almost dangerous.
Arielle looked away, pretending to focus on her coffee. “You should stop saying things like that. It’s… complicated.”
“I don’t do complicated,” Damon said softly. “I do real.”
But before she could reply, his phone buzzed. His expression changed from warmth to steel.
He answered, voice sharp. “What? No. That’s impossible. Find out who leaked it now!”
Arielle froze. Damon’s tone was different powerful, commanding, the voice of a man who wasn’t just rich, but ruthless.
He hung up, his jaw tight. “Sorry. Work stuff.”
“Something wrong?”
He hesitated, then sighed. “Someone’s trying to sabotage a deal I’ve been working on for months. It’s personal.”
She frowned. “Personal? How?”
He looked at her the kind of look that made her feel like he was deciding whether or not to tell her the truth.
Finally, he said quietly, “Because it’s not just business. It’s family.”
That afternoon, they went to Damon’s corporate headquarters for an emergency meeting. The tension in the room was thick enough to slice. Executives whispered, glancing nervously as Damon entered with Arielle following closely behind.
“Who leaked the merger documents?” he demanded.
Everyone exchanged terrified looks. No one answered.
Then, from the corner of the room, a woman stepped forward elegant, beautiful, and smirking.
“Miss me, Damon?”
Arielle froze. The woman’s voice was playful, but there was venom behind it.
Damon’s expression hardened. “Vanessa.”
Arielle blinked. Vanessa. The ex-fiancée. The one who cheated on him years ago. The one he never talked about.
Vanessa’s gaze slid to Arielle, slow and calculating. “So this is your new assistant? She’s… cute. A little naive-looking, though.”
Arielle wanted to punch her. But Damon’s hand brushed hers under the table a silent “stay calm.”
Vanessa smiled sweetly. “Oh, don’t look so shocked. You didn’t really think I’d let you win that easily, did you? Business or love I always take back what’s mine.”
Arielle’s pulse raced. Damon clenched his jaw.
“You’ve already taken enough, Vanessa,” he said coldly. “Leave before I make you regret staying.”
But Vanessa only laughed that haunting, confident laugh.
“Oh, Damon. You never learn. You should’ve known better than to trust another woman.”
And with that, she dropped a file on the table. Inside were photos.
Arielle. With Damon. At his penthouse. Together.
The executives gasped. Vanessa turned to the board. “Conflict of interest, don’t you think?”
Arielle’s face drained of color. Damon’s company his reputation everything could crumble.
“Damon…” she whispered, horrified.
He looked at her, his voice low but fierce. “Don’t you dare blame yourself. She’s been planning this for months.”
Vanessa smirked. “Oh, I’m just getting started.”
When the meeting ended in chaos, Damon grabbed Arielle’s hand and pulled her into the elevator. The doors closed, and for a moment, they just stood there breathing hard, both angry and scared.
“This is my fault,” Arielle said quietly. “I should’ve never”
He cut her off. “Don’t you ever say that again. You did nothing wrong.”
She met his gaze stormy, protective, intense. “Then what now?”
Damon stepped closer. “Now, I fight back. And I protect you. Whatever it takes.”
The elevator dinged.
But before stepping out, Damon whispered voice low, almost like a vow:
“They can come for everything I own… but no one touches what’s mine.”
Arielle’s breath caught.
Because for the first time, she realized she wasn’t just his assistant anymore.
She was his weakness.
And maybe… his only truth.
That night, as Arielle lay awake, her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
One message.
“You don’t know the real Damon Blackwell. But you will.”
Her blood ran cold.
- Writer
