Chapter 4: Tested and Bound
1178 Words
Damon didn’t ask questions; he tested limits.
I learned quickly that with Damon Blackwood, nothing was ever straightforward.
He didn’t ask polite questions. He didn’t introduce himself like a normal man. He didn’t even wait for me to adjust. He watched. He measured. He pushed. And he expected answers.
I walked into the office, my heels clicking on the floor, my hands trembling just slightly. I told myself I could handle this. I had survived Victor Hale. I could survive Damon Blackwood.
He was waiting. Standing by the desk with his hands in his pockets. No expression. No warmth. Just presence. And power.
“You’re early,” he said. Not a question. A statement.
“I like to be prepared,” I replied. My voice sounded steadier than I felt.
He tilted his head slightly. That subtle gesture made my stomach tighten. “Prepared for what?”
“For everything,” I said. And then I realized how foolish that sounded.
He didn’t smile. He didn’t need to. His eyes did all the talking. Dark, sharp, calculating. It felt like he was already inside my head, weighing my every thought.
“Sit,” he said.
I did, though my legs shook slightly as I lowered myself into the chair.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. His gaze pinned me down like a predator sizing up its prey. “You’re not going to lie to me.”
I flinched. Not because he said it, but because he didn’t ask. He knew. He always knew.
“I… I’m not lying,” I whispered.
He studied me. Long enough for my nerves to tighten like wires ready to snap. “Words are easy. Actions… less so.”
I swallowed. “Then judge me by my actions.”
A faint smirk tugged at his lips. Or maybe it wasn’t a smirk. Maybe it was amusement. Something dangerous either way.
“Your first test begins today,” he said. “You’ll work under my supervision. Every move. Every decision. Every mistake will be noticed.”
“I understand,” I said, my voice firmer this time.
“Do you?” He leaned closer, his eyes locking on mine. “Because I don’t trust you.”
I froze. Those words hit harder than any blow.
“I… I haven’t given you a reason not to,” I said carefully.
He tilted his head. “Exactly. You haven’t. Yet.”
My stomach twisted. He was testing me. The way he spoke, the pauses, the intensity wasn’t just a warning. It was a challenge.
“I don’t need you to trust me,” I said. “I only need you to see that I can do this.”
He leaned back, folding his arms. “Most people crumble under observation.”
“I’m not most people,” I said, though a flicker of doubt ran through me.
He studied me in silence, like weighing a fragile truth against a mountain of lies. Then he smilednot kind, not warm, but sharp. Precise. “We’ll see.”
I felt my pulse spike.
“You’ll work with me directly,” he continued, voice low. “No intermediaries. No distractions. You’re mine to observe, and mine to test.”
“I’m not yours,” I said, more firmly than I intended.
He raised a brow. “Yet you came here willingly. You accepted the job.”
“I accepted a position,” I corrected. “Not a claim on my life.”
His gaze narrowed. “Semantics matter when survival is at stake.”
I swallowed hard. I couldn’t let him see my fear. Not now. Not ever.
“I can handle it,” I said.
He leaned forward again, dangerously close this time. “Can you?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
My pulse thumped in my ears. He didn’t give me a chance to breathe. “Excuse me?”
“You say yes too easily,” he said, voice low. “Too much confidence can be deadly.”
I shook my head. “Then test me. That’s why I’m here.”
His eyes glinted. “Good. You have spirit. That might save you.”
“I always have spirit,” I said. “Even if I don’t have friends, or allies, or”
“Do not mention allies or friends in my presence,” he interrupted sharply. “They are weaknesses. Only power matters here.”
I froze. And then I realized what he was doing. He was teaching me to fear him. But not fear in the simple way. He was teaching me to measure him. To understand him. To survive.
“Then I’ll prove it,” I said quietly.
“Show me,” he said, standing. His presence filled the room. “Every detail matters. Every hesitation is a crack I’ll exploit. Don’t give me a reason.”
“I won’t,” I said.
He studied me, then paused. “You lie. You lie to yourself more than anyone else. I can see it.”
I swallowed. “I’m… not lying.”
“You always lie, Aria. That’s what makes you dangerous and useful.”
A chill ran through me. He was right. I had lied. Not always to others, but to myself. I had hidden my fears, my weaknesses, my past. And now I had to keep hiding them.
“I can handle danger,” I said.
“Can you handle me?” he asked softly.
The question landed like a punch.
“I can handle you,” I whispered, my throat tight.
“You won’t,” he said calmly. “Not yet.”
I felt my chest tighten. Every nerve screamed to run. To escape. To reject the challenge. But I didn’t. I stayed. I nodded. “I’ll learn.”
He leaned back and let a silence stretch between us. Not empty. Weighted. Heavy. Like the calm before a storm.
“Your first assignment starts today,” he said finally. “Observe, take notes, report. And remember that nothing is ever as it seems.”
“I understand,” I said.
He stood and walked toward the door. “One more thing,” he said without turning.
I waited.
“I don’t trust you,” he said simply.
My stomach lurched.
“Yet,” he added quietly. “That’s why you’re here.”
I swallowed hard. My mind raced. His words echoed in my head. Trust. Lies. Power. Fear. Desire.
He left. And I was alone.
But I wasn’t really alone.
His presence lingered like a shadow. A weight. A test I couldn’t escape.
And I realized something I hadn’t yet admitted to myself.
I wanted him to notice me. I hated myself for it.
I hated him for it too.
I took a deep breath. I could do this. I had to.
Because failure wasn’t an option.
I was supposed to report, to observe, to survive but as I left the office, one thought consumed me: How do you hide when the man testing you already knows too much?
- Writer
