Emma stared at her new office space—if you could even call it that. A sleek desk, right outside his office. Same floor. Same hallway.
Close enough that she could hear the deep timbre of his voice through the walls when he was on calls.
This wasn't part of the deal. Why the hell am I on this floor?
But of course, Damien Rodriguezs didn't care about deals when they didn't suit him.
The workload had tripled overnight. Files piled up on her desk, emails flooded her inbox, and meetings stretched late into the evening. It was deliberate. I knew it was deliberate.
And in every five minutes Damien called her in to hand over ‘that file’ or ‘get the documents signed’.
Why am I even doing this? I am a fashion designer and not his secretary! Emma let out a loud sigh. He just wants to bu
