Warming My Billionaire Boss's Bed

Chapter Four

Mia's POV

I met his eyes, anger and hurt mixing. “No. Mr. Ellis was a mentor. He taught me photography techniques. Sophia hated that someone paid attention to me instead of her. She spread rumors then, just like she’s doing now with Victor. It’s all lies to make me look bad. I’ve never seduced anyone for gain. Unlike her.”

Damien studied me for a long moment. Then he nodded. “I believe you. She’s desperate. Victor and Richard are pushing hard.”

Relief washed over me, cooling some of the jealousy. But the image of Sophia leaning in, her lips nearly on his, still burned. “She had no shame. Coming here dressed like that, trying to kiss you.”

A faint smile touched his mouth. “Jealous, Mia?”

I crossed my arms. “No. Just… it’s gross. She’s my half-sister, and you’re my father’s oldest friend. This whole thing is complicated enough without her games.”

He stepped closer, voice low. “It is complicated. But I’m not interested in her games. Or her dress.”

The air felt thick again. I remembered the almost-kiss from years ago, the tension since the rain. But I pushed it down. “We should get to work. Faces of Elysium won’t build itself.”

Damien agreed, but the morning had already shifted. We moved to the office area of the penthouse. I showed him more street photos from my bag-honest faces of people who needed real solutions, not Victor’s exploitation. He listened, offering simple feedback. “This one. Use it. It tells a story.”

By midday, we had rough mockups. My idea felt solid. Real people. Real hope. No corporate gloss.

Yet the jealousy lingered in quiet moments. Sophia’s words echoed. Damien had dodged her, believed me, but for how long would I continue to explain?

The next day, we drove to the Hamptons estate. It took just under two hours. Damien’s car was quiet most of the way, the storm from the city now reduced to gray skies and light drizzle over the long private driveway.

I stared out the window at the manicured lawns and ocean views, my camera bag on my lap like a shield. Forced proximity meant I couldn’t escape him even here.

We pulled up to the sprawling modern house-glass walls, oceanfront decks, and enough space to hide from the world. Or trap two people together. Damien showed me to a guest room with a view of the waves.

“Set up your darkroom in the study if you need it,” he said simply. “We work on Faces of Elysium today. Dinner at seven.”

I nodded. “Fine.”

The afternoon passed in the main office overlooking the water. I spread out prints from my street photography-faces of regular people in the city, tired but hopeful. “These show what Elysium could mean,” I told him. “Not just buildings. Lives.”

Damien studied them, nodding slowly. “It fits. Keep going.”

But peace didn’t last. My phone lit up with messages. Rumors were spreading online-whispers that I was sabotaging Damien’s project for revenge against my father. Sophia’s doing, no doubt.

By evening, after a simple dinner of grilled fish, with silence broken by occasional work talk, the tension boiled over in the library. Rain started again, pattering against the tall windows. I stood by the shelves, flipping through a book I wasn’t really reading. Damien poured two glasses of wine and handed me one.

“Why are they coming after me so hard?” I said, voice tight. “Victor and Sophia. The leaks. All of it.”

He set his glass down. “Tell me.”

I took a sip, then met his eyes. “It’s because I refused to work with Richard. I found out about his dirty deals with Victor. I said no. I walked away. So now they paint me as the traitor. The jealous half-sister who wants to burn everything down. It’s easier than admitting I won’t help them hurt people for profit.”

Damien stepped closer. His face stayed calm, but his eyes softened. “I believe you, Mia. I’ve seen how they treat you. You’re not the liar here. They are.”

The words hit me harder than I expected. For once, someone believed me without question. The air between us changed. Years of sharp words, that almost-kiss on my birthday, the pull I had fought since the night he picked me up in the rain—all of it rushed forward.

He reached out and brushed a strand of hair from my face. “You’ve survived enough storms.”

I didn’t pull away. Instead, I closed the distance. Our lips met in a hard kiss. His hands slid to my waist, pulling me against him. The wine glass slipped from my fingers onto the thick rug. Heat flooded through me as he backed me toward the heavy oak desk, mouths hungry, breaths quick.

I tugged at his shirt, fingers working the buttons. “This is a bad idea,” he whispered against my mouth.

“Probably,” I replied, voice low. He lifted me onto the desk, hands sliding under my blouse, warm against my skin. I wrapped my legs around him, lost in the feel of his body, the scrape of his stubble on my neck. His mouth moved lower, drawing a soft gasp from me. For the first time in days, the weight of betrayal lifted. There was only heat and need.

His fingers traced down my side, pushing fabric aside. I arched into him, heart pounding. “Damien-”

The doorbell rang through the house, sharp and insistent.

We froze. Damien pulled back, breathing hard, eyes dark with frustration. “Stay here.”

He buttoned his shirt quickly and left the library. I slid off the desk, straightening my clothes, cheeks burning. Voices drifted from the front entrance. I recognized it immediately. Marcus.

A minute later, Damien returned holding a thick envelope. His jaw was tight. “Marcus delivered it. Richard’s driver.”

I took the envelope with shaking hands and opened it. Legal papers. Notices trying to freeze what little assets I had left unless I agreed to work with Victor.