Chapter 4 Testing Limits

Elena worked through the day, keeping her head down, but her mind was elsewhere. Damien Sinclair was hiding something. And whatever it was, it had shaken him-just for a second-when she'd reached for that pen.

She had spent years studying this man, collecting every scrap of information on him, yet there were still things she didn't know.

She would change that.

By the time evening rolled around, the penthouse was spotless, and Damien had disappeared into his home office. Elena was finishing up in the kitchen when she heard the sharp clack of heels against the marble floor.

Her body stiffened.

She turned to see Vivian Monroe stepping inside like she owned the place.

The ex.

Elena recognized her instantly-the flawless brunette socialite with ice-blue eyes and a designer wardrobe that probably cost more than most people's homes. She was the woman the media had once called Damien Sinclair's future wife. The one who had never quite let go.

Vivian barely spared Elena a glance before smirking. "New help?"

Elena's fingers twitched around the dish towel.

"Yes, ma'am," she said carefully.

Vivian's gaze swept over her, assessing. Judging. "Hmm." She flicked her hair over her shoulder and strode past, heading straight for Damien's office without bothering to knock.

Elena listened, heart hammering. The door shut behind Vivian, muffling their conversation, but she caught his voice-deep, irritated.

"What the hell are you doing here, Vivian?"

Elena bit her lip, curiosity burning through her. What was their story?

More importantly... how could she use it against him?

Twenty Minutes Later

Elena was dusting near the hallway when the office door swung open. Vivian walked out first, her expression smug. Damien followed, his jaw tight, his hand gripping his phone like he wanted to crush it.

Elena stayed still, but she felt his gaze flick toward her.

Vivian didn't miss it. Her smirk deepened.

"Well," she purred, placing a manicured hand on Damien's chest. "Call me when you change your mind."

With that, she turned and sauntered toward the elevator, leaving behind the scent of expensive perfume and tension thick enough to choke on.

The second she was gone, Damien exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his hair. He looked furious.

And then, those stormy gray eyes landed on Elena.

"What are you staring at?" His voice was sharp.

Elena schooled her features into indifference. "Nothing, sir."

He didn't move. Didn't blink.

Then, in a low, warning tone, he said, "Be careful, little maid. I don't like people who listen in on things they shouldn't."

The words sent a shiver down her spine, but she held her ground.

"As you wish, Mr. Sinclair," she murmured, lowering her gaze.

She would play the obedient maid for now.

But she had just learned something valuable-Vivian still had her claws in him.

And if there was one thing Elena knew about powerful men like Damien Sinclair, it was that their weaknesses could be their downfall.

She just had to figure out how to use his against him.