CHAPTER 3: The New World
1329 Words
“Don’t touch anything.”
Theo froze in the doorway. The apartment didn’t look real. It was all polished stone and glass, with the city glowing far below.
“I wasn’t going to—”
“You were staring at that sculpture like you wanted to hold it.” Damien walked past him without a glance. “It costs more than you’ll make in a year. Keep your hands to yourself.”
A woman in a dark uniform appeared. She looked Theo up and down, a small sneer on her face.
"That's him?" she said to Damien.
“Yes. Take him to his room. His things need to be unpacked within the hour.”
The woman nodded, but her eyes were full of questions. Why him?
"Follow me," she said, her voice cold.
Theo followed her down a hallway. Everything was shiny surfaces and hard edges. The whole place felt like a museum.
His new room was bigger than his old apartment. The bed looked like no one had ever slept in it. Through the window, the city lights shone like stars.
“Your belongings will be here soon,” the woman said. “Mr. Carlow wants you in the main room in one hour. Don’t be late.”
She left.
Theo sat on the edge of the bed. It was too soft. The whole room felt sterile and empty, like no one really lived here.
He didn’t belong here.
His phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number.
All debts cleared. Medical bills paid. First salary deposited. Welcome. - DC
Theo stared at the screen. It was real. The money was really there.
Another notification. This one from Marcus.
Heard you quit. Finally.
Theo deleted the message. Then he blocked the number.
A knock at the door.
“Come in.”
Damien entered. He had changed into a dark sweater. It didn’t make him look any softer.
“There’s a gala tomorrow,” Damien said. “You’re coming with me. That means you need the right clothes.”
“I have a suit—”
“No. You have a cheap suit that doesn’t fit.” Damien pulled out his phone. “We’re going shopping. Now.”
“It’s nine o’clock at night.”
“And I own half the stores in this city. They’ll open for me.” Damien’s eyes pinned him in place. “Get up. We leave in five minutes.”
---
The boutique was empty except for them and three staff. They moved around Theo like he was a mannequin, measuring and pinning fabric.
"Not that one," Damien said from his chair, swirling a glass of wine. "The charcoal gray. And take it in at the sides."
“Yes, Mr. Carlow.”
Theo tried on six different suits. He stood still while they adjusted the collar and sleeves.
"This one," Damien finally said.
Theo looked in the mirror. The suit fit him perfectly. It made him look older. Stronger. Almost like he belonged in Damien's world.
"It's too expensive," Theo whispered.
"I don't care what you think." Damien stood and came close. He adjusted Theo's tie, his fingers brushing against Theo's throat.
Theo’s breath hitched.
Damien’s jaw tightened. Something dark flashed in his eyes. The air between them suddenly felt heavy.
“Better,” Damien said, his voice rough. “We’ll take this one. And the navy one. And the black one.”
“Mr. Carlow, that’s three suits—”
“Did I stutter?” Damien stepped back, putting space between them. “He needs shoes, too. And shirts. Everything.”
The staff hurried away.
Theo looked at his reflection again. He barely recognized himself.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked.
“Because you represent me now.” Damien’s voice was cold again. Back to normal. “And I don’t employ people who dress like they’re poor.”
The words shouldn’t have hurt, but they did.
---
The gala was worse than Theo imagined.
Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. People wore jewelry that cost more than cars.
“Stay close,” Damien murmured. His hand settled on the small of Theo’s back. It felt possessive. “Don’t talk unless someone talks to you. If they ask, you’re my personal assistant.”
“I am your personal assistant.”
“They’ll think you’re more than that. Let them.” Damien’s fingers pressed a little harder. “It’s simpler.”
They moved through the crowd. People stared. They whispered behind their hands. Damien ignored them all.
A woman in a red dress approached. She was beautiful, but her eyes were cold.
“Damien. What a surprise.” Her gaze moved to Theo. “And who is this?”
“My assistant. Theo.”
"Assistant." She drew the word out. It sounded like an insult.
What do you want, Catherine? Damien’s voice could have frozen fire.
“I’m just being friendly.” Catherine sipped her champagne. “You never bring anyone to these things.”
“There’s a first time for everything.”
She smiled and walked away.
Theo’s hands were sweating. He wiped them on his pants.
“Stop that,” Damien said without looking at him. “Stand still. Look like you belong.”
“I don’t belong.”
"Fake it," Damien said. He took two glasses from a passing waiter and handed one to Theo. "Stay near me. Things are about to get difficult."
A man stepped out of the crowd. He was tall, with silver hair and an expensive suit. His smile was not friendly.
“Damien Carlow. Still trying to buy class, I see.”
“Marcus Sterling.” Damien’s voice was too calm. “Still losing business to me?”
Marcus laughed. Then he looked at Theo. His eyes stopped.
“And who is your… friend?”
“My assistant.”
“Assistant.” Marcus’s smile grew. “Of course. Though he seems a bit young for the job, doesn’t he?”
Theo’s face felt hot.
“Is there a reason for this?” Damien asked.
“Just making conversation.” Marcus drank from his glass. “I brought someone you might know.”
He gestured toward the back of the room.
Theo’s heart stopped.
Evan was there. His ex. The man who had broken him. The man who kept sending threatening texts.
Evan’s eyes widened when he saw Theo. Then they narrowed.
“Well,” Evan said softly. “This is a surprise.”
Theo couldn’t breathe. The room began to spin.
Damien’s hand on his back held him steady.
"Problem?" Damien asked, his voice low.
No problem, Evan said with a sharp smile. I just didn’t expect to see Theo here. All dressed up. Playing assistant. He said the last word like it was a joke.
“He works for me,” Damien said.
“I’m sure he does.” Evan moved closer. “But we both know Theo isn’t qualified for a real job. Are you, baby?”
Theo flinched. That word. Evan had called him that when things were good.
Damien’s grip on his waist tightened. It was protective. A silent message.
You need to leave," Damien told Evan. His voice was cold steel. "Now."
“Why?” Marcus cut in. His smile was cruel. “We’re just talking. Unless you have something to hide, Damien.” He looked between them. “If he’s really yours, then prove it.”
The challenge hung in the air.
Damien turned. His fingers gently lifted Theo’s chin. Their eyes met.
"Don't move," Damien whispered.
He pulled Theo close—so close their lips were almost touching. Theo could feel the warmth of Damien’s breath.
The people around them went quiet.
Damien’s thumb stroked Theo’s lower lip. His eyes were dark and dangerous. A heat burned in them that made Theo’s knees weak.
“Mine,” Damien murmured, just loud enough for everyone to hear.
Then he closed the last inch between them and kissed him.
- Writer
