IN TOO DEEP
1042 Words
Ava didn’t sleep that night.
She tried. God, she tried.
She paced the floor of her penthouse rental, sipped lukewarm tea she didn’t finish, stared at the folder Damien had given her as though it might open itself and spill answers.
It didn’t.
Just that bold monogram on the first page; V. B.
Her father’s initials.
She’d run his name through every closed network she had access to. Government databases. Off-the-record financials. Nothing. Dead ends and denials. But now, after two years of silence, she was holding a contract that somehow… felt like him.
Not just because of the initials.
But because of the shadows clinging to the margins.
The way the document didn’t list services or deliverables, but offered compensation like blood money. The kind of offer you didn’t decline if you wanted to live long.
Or stay whole.
Midnight was less than two hours away.
She stared out the window. Paris glittered beneath her like a dream she no longer trusted.
When she closed her eyes, all she saw was Damien.
That voice. That look. That terrifying sense that he saw her; not just the poised consultant with glossy lips and a strategic tongue, but the shattered daughter clawing for answers under the armor.
She hated it.
She needed it.
Ava changed into black slacks and a simple silk blouse. No jewelry. No pretense. She didn’t know what she was walking into, but she’d rather bleed in elegance than beg in heels.
The folder went into her bag.
And at 11:53 p.m., she walked out the door.
The same black car waited by the curb. No driver visible.
She slid inside without hesitation.
This time, the ride was silent. No music. No small talk. Just her reflection in the tinted glass and the quiet hum of something shifting in her world.
The car stopped at the same place as before; only now the velvet rope was gone, and the door opened without her knocking.
He was waiting.
Damien.
Not behind a desk. Not lounging like a predator in control.
He stood near the fireplace, sleeves rolled, collar unbuttoned.
Human.
But dangerous.
His gaze swept over her like a current. Not to undress, but to decode.
“You came.”
“I need clarity,” she said.
He nodded once. “You’ll get it.”
“And if I don’t like what I find?”
“Then you’ll walk away. With a story you’ll never tell.”
Ava stepped forward, her heels echoing like defiance on the marble floor.
“You said this was a bridge. So where does it lead?”
Damien gestured to a second door; black lacquer, gold hardware. She hadn’t noticed it before.
“This way.”
She followed, heart in her throat.
The door led to a glass-walled elevator. Sleek. Silent.
They descended.
Far below street level.
When the doors opened, Ava wasn’t sure what she expected. But it wasn’t this.
A sprawling underground chamber. Steel and shadows. Screens everywhere; hundreds of them, suspended like floating eyes. Each played silent footage. Surveillance feeds. Boardroom deals. Private rooms. Government corridors.
Ava’s mouth went dry.
“What is this?”
“The heart of Velvet,” Damien said. “The place where everything begins. And ends.”
She stepped closer to one screen.
A man she recognized.
An oil executive from Dubai; one who’d been accused of corruption but never charged. He was signing papers.
On another screen, a woman knelt on silk sheets, hands tied, whispering something to a faceless figure in a suit.
Every screen told a story.
Power. Leverage. Secrets.
Ava turned slowly.
“This isn’t just data.”
“No,” Damien said. “It’s control.”
She looked at him. “And I’m supposed to… what? Become your spy?”
“You’re supposed to become your own weapon.”
He stepped closer.
“You want to know what happened to your father? You want to find out why men like him vanish and empires are built on silence? This is where that truth lives. But it comes with a price.”
Ava swallowed. “And you?”
“What about me?”
“Why me? Why now?”
For the first time, his gaze faltered.
And she saw it.
A crack.
“You weren’t supposed to show up,” he said quietly.
She blinked. “What?”
“I requested a different firm. A different consultant. But they sent you.”
“By mistake?”
“No.” His jaw tightened. “Fate.”
She hated how that word made her heart stutter.
“Don’t romanticize manipulation.”
“I’m not,” he said. “I’m warning you.”
He stepped closer. Inches now.
“When I first saw you… I thought you’d crumble. Pretty girl. Polished smile. Easy to break.”
Ava lifted her chin. “You thought wrong.”
“I know that now.”
His voice dropped.
“But I also know what happens to people who stay.”
She didn’t flinch.
“What happens?”
“They forget who they were.”
She stared at him.
And then, quietly, “What did you forget, Damien?”
He didn’t answer.
Just looked away.
That silence told her more than words ever could.
Whatever Damien had been before Velvet, he’d buried it deep.
And now he was offering her the same shovel.
She turned back to the screens.
And made her choice.
“I want access,” she said. “Real access. Files. Logs. Anything tied to V. B.”
“You’ll have it.”
“I want to work alone.”
“No one works alone in Velvet.”
“Then I want you. No handlers. No smoke.”
Damien’s brow lifted slightly. “Dangerous choice.”
“I don’t play safe.”
A beat.
Then he nodded.
“Contract’s binding. Once you step into this world, you don’t get to walk out untouched.”
Ava didn’t hesitate.
“Touch me, then.”
The air cracked between them.
Something unspoken flared; need, challenge, something almost feral.
But he didn’t kiss her.
Didn’t even move.
Instead, Damien extended his hand again.
Same gesture. New terms.
Ava took it.
This time, it felt like a pact.
Not of trust.
But of war.
- Writer
