CHAPTER 10:CONTROL ETHICS
1014 Words
AVA POV
My alarm blared through my quiet apartment like a siren, jolting me awake.
I fumbled for my phone on the nightstand, my heart pounding from the abrupt wake-up.
It wasn’t my usual work alarm, something else.
I squinted at the screen, expecting a calendar reminder or something.
Instead, it was a terse text from Damien:
“Contact me immediately. Provide your exact clothing sizes: tops, bottoms, dresses, shoes. Now.”
Extremely confused,
I sat up, rubbing sleep from my eyes.
What was this?
An order disguised as a message.
I dialed his number, the burner phone cooled against my ear.
He picked up on the second ring, his voice smooth but edged with command.
“Ava. Good. List them out. I’m arranging a new wardrobe.”
I blinked, still processing.
“Damien, what? Why? I have clothes. Professional ones.”
“I’ve seen what you wear to that office,” he said flatly.
“ You have too many scanty, tight dresses, slits, blouses that hug every curve. It’s distracting and unprofessional. Change it. I don’t like it.”
My confusion sharpened into irritation.
“Unprofessional? That’s the point, isn’t it? I’m supposed to seduce Ethan, gain his trust. Look the part of the tempting assistant. That’s what you hired me for,your words, remember? The fitted clothes help with the mission.”
A pause on his end, then a low chuckle that lacked warmth.
“The mission is to get evidence, not parade yourself like bait.
I decide what’s effective,send the sizes. I’ll have options delivered by evening. Something more elegant and conservative.” Something that doesn’t scream availability.”
We went back and forth, my voice starts rising.
“This is ridiculous. Ethan responds to the way I dress now. It’s working,he’s opening up, inviting me closer. You can’t micromanage my appearance like this. I’m not your doll.”
“Watch your tone,”
Damien warned, his arrogance dripping.
“You signed the contract. This is business, Ava. My investment. Don’t forget who pulls the strings.”
The argument dragged on another minute, then I glanced at the clock.
“s**t, i’m late!”
I ended the call abruptly, my heart racing for a different reason.
I threw on a black dress, the one with the subtle slit, i brushed my hair into a quick ponytail, and dashed out the door, my house keys in hand.
The drive to Rush Dynamics was a blur of traffic and anxiety. I arrived ten minutes late, smoothing my skirt as I stepped onto the executive floor.
Ethan’s door was closed, but the energy in the air felt off, it felt thick, oppressive. His assistant before me had warned about his moods, but I had only seen the charming side.
I knocked softly and entered with his coffee.
Ethan stood by the window,his jaw clenched, reviewing papers with a scowl that made my stomach drop.
His dark eyes flicked to me, sharp and unyielding.
“You’re late, Ava.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Rush Ethan. Traffic was ”
“Save it.” His voice was clipped, colder than I had ever heard.
He snatched the coffee without thanks, setting it down hard enough to slosh.
“I need the merged files prepped in ten. There should be no excuses. And reschedule the afternoon call,I don’t have time for incompetence today.”
I nodded quickly, retreating to my desk with a racing pulse.
This was the ruthless side Damien had described.
The one that scared me a little, even as I reminded myself it was just a bad mood. He barked orders through the morning, very short and demanding.
No flirty texts or lingering touches.
I moved efficiently, heart tight, stealing glances at him through the glass.
By lunch, I had glimpsed more suspicious emails, but fear kept me from pushing.
The afternoon dragged on.
Ethan’s irritation continued, directed at everyone, including me.
I was relieved when 5 p.m. hit. As I packed up, he finally softened a fraction.
“Long day. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
I left feeling irritated
“Who does he think he was?”
That evening, after changing into casual clothes, the burner buzzed.
Damien demanded another in-person report at the mansion. I drove there simmering, the day’s events already fueling my frustration.
He waited in the living room, gray eyes assessing me coolly.
“You’re getting too close, Ava. I saw the texts. The early leaves. The smiles. This isn’t a romance novel. Pull back.”
I crossed my arms, defiance rising.
“Too close? That’s the job. He’s trusting me, sharing things, letting me near files. Defending him isn’t the plan, it’s an observation. He’s involved with charities, genuine with the kids. Maybe the evidence you want is exaggerated.”
Damien’s expression hardened, irritation flashing.
“Genuine? Don’t be naive. He’s playing you, just like you’re supposed to play him. One bad mood and you’re scared? This is why I wanted the wardrobe change. You’re losing focus, dressing for him, not the mission.”
Our voices rosed
“You’re controlling everything! The clothes, the distance. I’m the one in the office, risking it all. Ethan’s shown me more humanity than you have with your orders and arrogance.”
“Humanity?” Damien stepped closer, eyes blazing. “He’s neck-deep in dirt that could bury people. Wake up before you ruin this. Or ruin yourself. Don't be a foolish lady, I sent you there on a mission “
The irritation in his tone stung.
I grabbed my bag, anger already boiling over.
“I’m doing what you asked. If you don’t trust me, maybe this was a mistake.”
I turned and stormed out, slamming the door behind me.
The night air hit cold as I drove away, fists tight on the wheel. Damien’s control chafed. Ethan’s mood had shaken me. And my own growing doubts terrified me most.
Back home, I ignored both phones for a while, staring at the city lights. The game was cracking me in ways I hadn’t anticipated.
Who was I even fooling, Ethan, Damien, or myself?
- Writer
