Scarlet
The first thing I learned about working under Damien Vanderwood was that he had no intention of making it easy for me. He wasn’t content with merely forcing me to stay—he wanted to break me.
Too bad for him, I had no intention of breaking.
The moment I stepped into the office that weekend morning, the tension was suffocating. The other employees moved around me with wary glances, as if standing too close would put them on Damien’s bad side. The whispers followed me, rumors about why I was still here when I should have been long gone. I ignored them.
I had bigger things to worry about—like the man sitting behind his oversized desk, exuding power and arrogance, watching me with a smirk that made my skin crawl.
“You’re late,” he said, his voice cool and lazy.
I raised an unimpr
