Chapter 3 3

Becky's POV

Damien Lancaster wasn't a man who made idle threats or casual offers. His words carried weight, laced with an unspoken challenge that sent a thrill down Becky's spine.

She hadn't come here to play games, but she could sense that this was the only way to get the answers she wanted.

"The truth is earned," he had said.

Fine. Then she would earn it.

Her pen hovered over the page of her notebook. "What does stepping into your world look like, exactly?"

Damien's smirk was slow, predatory. "It means you don't just sit across from me, asking questions. You experience it firsthand."

Her grip on the pen tightened. "You're saying you want me to shadow you?"

"Something like that."

"That's not how interviews work, Mr. Lancaster."

"Then maybe this isn't just an interview."

His words sent a ripple of unease through her. A warning she should probably heed.

She glanced at the cityscape through the towering windows behind him. The world outside carried on, unaware of the high-stakes game unfolding in this room.

"And if I say no?"

"You walk away." He leaned back, his movements effortless. "No hard feelings."

Her instincts screamed that this was more than just a story now. This was a test, a carefully constructed web she was about to step into.

The rational part of her said to take the out. Pack up, thank him for his time, and write a watered-down piece about the elusive billionaire who gave her nothing.

The other part-the one that had clawed her way through the industry, fighting to prove herself-refused to walk away.

"I accept."

A flicker of something dark passed through Damien's eyes before his lips curved into a victorious smirk. "Then we start tonight."

Becky straightened. "Tonight?"

"There's a gala. High-profile guests, business deals happening over champagne and fake smiles." His fingers drummed against the desk. "You'll be my plus-one."

Heat crept up her neck. "You want me to pose as your date?"

"I want you to observe." His gaze locked onto hers. "See the world I move through. Understand the power dynamics."

"You could just answer my questions."

"That's not how my world works, Miss Lynchburg."

A challenge. Again.

She set her pen down, forcing her expression to remain neutral. "Fine. What time?"

"I'll send a car for you at eight."

He reached into his desk and pulled out a sleek black card, sliding it toward her.

"What's this?" she asked, picking it up.

"Dress code is black-tie. Get yourself something appropriate."

A lump formed in her throat. Accepting this meant stepping deeper into his world. Meant letting him dictate the rules. But this was her chance.

She tucked the card into her bag and stood. "See you at eight, Mr. Lancaster."

His smirk didn't waver. "Looking forward to it."

---

Damien's POV

The second Becky Lynchburg walked out of his office, Damien exhaled slowly, tapping his fingers against the desk. She had taken the bait.

He had been expecting hesitation, maybe even a last-minute retreat. But she had accepted his terms without flinching, eyes burning with the kind of determination that set her apart from every other journalist who had tried to pry into his life. Dangerous.

He picked up his whiskey glass, swirling the remnants before draining it. This wasn't just about control anymore- it was about curiosity.

She wanted to uncover the man behind the empire. Fine.

But she had no idea what she was walking into.

A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts.

"Enter," he called.

The butler stepped in, his posture stiff. "Sir, everything has been arranged for the gala. Your guest list has been confirmed."

Damien set the empty glass down. "Good."

"And the matter regarding the foreign investors-?"

"Handled," Damien interrupted. "Have security double-check the attendees. If anything feels off, I want to know before they step into that ballroom."

"Yes, sir."

The butler hesitated before adding, "And Miss Lynchburg?"

A slow smirk curled Damien's lips. "She'll be ready."

The butler nodded before retreating. Damien stood, adjusting the cuffs of his tailored suit. Becky Lynchburg had no idea what she had just agreed to. By the end of the night, she would understand exactly what stepping into his world meant.