Chapter 2 Under his watch

Emery couldn't feel her hands.

She pressed the elevator button with fingers that barely responded, her mind racing in spirals. Floor by floor, the lights blinked above her, but she couldn't make sense of any of it. Her chest was tight. Her breath shallow.

What just happened?

The top floor had been a mistake. She was supposed to drop off a folder. Nothing more. She hadn't even meant to speak to him-just hand it off and disappear like the invisible new hire she was. Instead, she'd ended up staring into the eyes of Damien Hale.

The billionaire.

The man who didn't give interviews. Who bought companies before breakfast. Who'd been on the cover of Forbes and Time magazines and had once walked away from a hundred-million-dollars acquisition deal because the coffee was cold.

And now, apparently, she worked directly under him.

The doors opened on her floor, and Emery stepped out like a ghost. The office buzzed with noise : phones ringing, keyboards tapping, the low murmur of corporate life. But she barely heard it.

"You look like you saw a ghost," said Lexi from the desk across hers.

Emery sat down slowly. "Worse."

Lexi raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess. Damien Hale?"

Emery just nodded.

Lexi let out a low whistle. "Girl, he hasn't spoken to a junior employee since 2019. What happened?"

"He said... I work for him now."

Lexi froze. "You're kidding."

"No."

"Like, his assistant?"

"I don't think so. He said under him."

Lexi's eyes widened. "That's not a job title. That's a threat. Or a promise."

Emery's cheeks flushed, and she looked away. Because she could still feel the heat of his stare, the sound of his voice in her ear-deep, commanding, dangerous.

You're mine now.

Those three words had hit harder than they should have. Because for one second, one terrifyingly exhilarating second, Emery hadn't wanted to run.

She'd wanted to stay.

She shook herself. No. She didn't come to New York to get swept up by a billionaire with ice-blue eyes and a voice like velvet sin. She came here for stability. To build something real. Her parents were counting on her. She had student loans, rent, a barely functional toaster, and a dream of opening her own firm one day.

And men like Damien Hale?

They didn't fit into that world. They ruined it.

Still... when her phone lit up with a message, her stomach flipped:

Unknown Number: You start at 8 AM sharp. My office. Don't be late.

Her fingers hovered over the screen.

She didn't reply.

But her heart did.