Bound to the billionaire

Warning

Damien pov

The morning had been slow, the kind of slow that felt deceptive like the calm before a storm. I’d been in the office since six, staring at figures that refused to add up, reading reports that all seemed to end with the same problem a hole in the Milan project.

By the time the clock struck one, I hadn’t even had coffee. My tie was loose, my sleeves rolled up, and the quiet hum of the air conditioner was the only sound in my office.

Then my intercom buzzed.

“Sir,” my secretary said softly. “Miss Victoria is here. She said it’s urgent.”

I froze for a moment, my jaw tightening. “Victoria?”

“Yes, sir. She said she just returned from Europe and wants to see you personally.”

I leaned back in my chair, exhaling slowly. Of course she does.

“Tell her I’m busy.”

There was a beat of silence, then a nervous tone: “She’s… already in the elevator, sir.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, suppressing a curse. “Let her in,” I said flatly. “Since she’s already made the decision for us both.”

The door opened seconds later, without a knock.

Victoria walked in like she owned the place the same confident stride, the same expensive perfume I used to think smelled like heaven. Now it just made the air feel thick. Her platinum hair fell in perfect waves over her shoulder, her red lipstick flawless.

“Damien,” she said with a small, practiced smile. “You look… tense.”

“Working tends to have that effect,” I replied dryly, not bothering to stand.

She tilted her head. “I see you haven’t changed.”

“Neither have you,” I said, meeting her gaze. “Still ignoring boundaries.”

She laughed softly, that fake, melodic laugh I used to fall for. “Boundaries don’t exist between us.”

“They do now.”

Her smile faltered just slightly, but she recovered quickly, taking slow, deliberate steps toward my desk. “I heard you got married.” Her tone carried a hint of mockery, like the word married was a joke. “To someone completely out of your league, apparently.”

I didn’t respond. She thrived on reactions I wasn’t going to give her one.

“So it’s true,” she said, leaning against my desk, her perfume invading my space. “You actually married that girl. What was her name again? Amira, right? The one who looks like she wandered out of a charity campaign?”

My hand clenched slightly, but my voice stayed even. “Be careful.”

“Or what?” she teased, eyes gleaming. “You’ll throw me out of your office? Please, Damien. We both know what we used to be. You can’t pretend I never mattered.”

That made me stand. Slowly.

“You did matter,” I said quietly. “Once. Until you showed me what kind of person you really are.”

She straightened, her fake smile fading. “I made one mistake”

“You leaked company information to the press because I broke up with you,” I cut in sharply. “That’s not a mistake, Victoria. That’s sabotage.”

Her eyes flashed. “You deserved it.”

“Maybe,” I said, my tone cool. “But you didn’t deserve to come back.”

The air grew heavy between us. I could see the anger rising behind her carefully painted face.

She crossed her arms, voice lowering. “You really think this… marriage of yours will last? You and that fragile little girl playing house?”

I tilted my head. “You came all the way here to insult my wife?”

“Wife,” she repeated with a scoff. “You say it like it’s real.”

“It is real,” I said firmly.

She laughed, a sharp, humorless sound. “You married her out of pity or convenience, not love. Don’t stand there and act like you’ve suddenly turned into some fairy tale husband.”

I didn’t rise to it. She wanted to provoke me she always did.

Then her tone changed. “You’re making a mistake, Damien. You think she loves you? She’s using you. She probably sees you as her ticket out of poverty.”

I stepped closer, my voice dangerously low. “Say one more word about her like that and I swear…”

“What?” she snapped. “You’ll hit me?”

“No,” I said quietly, leaning closer. “I’ll destroy you. And we both know I can.”

For the first time, she hesitated. Her mask slipped for just a second long enough for me to see the flicker of fear in her eyes.

But she wasn’t done. Victoria never left without trying to have the last word.

“I can ruin her,” she hissed. “You know I can. One post, one photo, one story and the world will turn on her. I can make her disappear from your life before she even knows what happened.”

I exhaled through my nose, then smiled the kind of smile that carried no warmth. “Try it,” I said softly. “Touch her, mention her, or breathe her name in public again and I’ll make sure your name doesn’t exist in this city anymore.”

She blinked, startled by the coldness in my voice. I leaned in slightly. “You always thought I was heartless, Victoria. You were wrong. I just never cared enough to show you what I’m capable of. But if you lay a finger on Amira…” I paused, letting the silence burn between us. “…you’ll find out.”

She swallowed, stepping back. The confidence she walked in with had started to crumble.

“You’ll regret this,” she spat, grabbing her purse. “You’ll regret choosing her over me.”

“Then you’d better start regretting faster,” I replied, my tone even. “Because I already made my choice.”

Her glare could’ve burned through steel. Then she stormed out, slamming the door so hard my office walls seemed to shake.

For a long moment, I just stood there staring at the door, trying to slow my breathing.

God, she hadn’t changed at all. Manipulative. Vindictive. Dangerous.

I sat back down, but my hands wouldn’t stay still. I reached for the pen, dropped it. My mind wasn’t on work anymore. It was on Amira her soft voice, the way she bit her lip when she was nervous, the quiet fire in her eyes when she stood up for herself.

She didn’t deserve to be dragged into this.

I opened my phone and scrolled to her number. My thumb hovered over Call.

Then I stopped. She’d probably still be upset from last night from the media chaos, from how harsh I’d been in the car. Still, the thought of Victoria even thinking about her made my chest tighten.

I hit Call anyway.

It rang once. Twice. No answer.

I tried again. Still nothing.

A small part of me told myself she was resting. But another part the louder one whispered that I’d been too cold, too controlling. Maybe she didn’t even want to talk to me.

The intercom buzzed again, cutting off my thoughts.

“Sir,” my assistant’s voice came in, strained. “There’s an emergency. The Milan investors are threatening to withdraw. The board has called for an immediate meeting.”

I clenched my jaw. “I’ll be there in five.”

Grabbing my jacket, I glanced once more at the phone screen her name still glowing softly on the missed call log.

Then I slipped the phone into my pocket and headed for the boardroom.

I’d deal with the crisis first.

But Victoria’s words echoed in the back of my mind like a promise I intended to break her with:

If you touch her, I’ll destroy you.

And I meant every word.