Chapter 4 Bound by Chains

The next morning, Alina stood in front of the "Cross Enterprises" building, her stomach in knots.

The towering glass structure loomed above her, sleek and intimidating-just like the man who owned it.

"Damon Cross."

Her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag as she forced herself to take a step forward.

"You made your choice," she reminded herself.

But had she?

Or had she been "pushed" into it?

Taking a deep breath, she stepped inside.

The lobby of Cross Enterprises was nothing short of "breathtaking."

Marble floors gleamed under soft golden lighting, and a massive chandelier sparkled above. Men and women in tailored suits moved through the space with practiced efficiency, exuding wealth and power.

Alina felt "out of place."

She swallowed as she approached the front desk, where a woman in a crisp black blazer barely spared her a glance.

"I-um-I have a meeting with Mr. Cross," Alina said, trying to sound professional.

The woman's gaze "sharpened" as she took her in, her expression unreadable. Then, without a word, she picked up the phone.

"Send her up," she said, before hanging up and nodding toward the elevators. "Top floor."

Alina hesitated.

There was no turning back now.

She stepped inside the elevator, watching the numbers climb as her heart pounded.

When the doors slid open, she was met with a long, dimly lit hallway. It was quiet-too quiet.

Her heels clicked against the floor as she made her way forward, until she reached a pair of "black double doors."

Before she could knock-

"Come in."

Alina froze.

Damon's voice, smooth and commanding, sent a shiver down her spine.

Slowly, she pushed the doors open and stepped inside.

Damon's office was massive, lined with dark wood and floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city.

And there he was.

Sitting behind a sleek black desk, "Damon Cross looked every bit the king of this empire."

Dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, his dark hair was neatly styled, his piercing gaze already fixed on her.

Alina's breath hitched.

He looked "dangerous." Powerful.

Like he could "ruin" her with a single word.

"Right on time," he murmured, glancing at the clock.

Alina forced herself to step forward. "I keep my word."

A smirk tugged at his lips. "We'll see about that."

Her fingers curled into fists. "God, he was insufferable."

"Sit," he commanded, nodding toward the chair across from him.

She hesitated before lowering herself into the seat.

Damon leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "Do you understand what this job requires?"

Alina swallowed. "I assume it's more than scheduling meetings and answering calls."

His smirk widened. "You assume correctly."

A file landed in front of her.

Alina eyed it warily before flipping it open. Her stomach dropped.

"NDAs. Confidentiality agreements. Contracts that bound her to him in more ways than one."

Her mouth went dry. "This is... a lot."

Damon studied her. "If you want out, this is your last chance."

Her pulse pounded.

He was testing her.

A part of her wanted to "walk away." To run before she got tangled too deep.

But another part?

Another part was "already trapped."

Slowly, she picked up the pen.

And signed.

Damon's gaze darkened as he took the papers, his fingers brushing against hers.

A slow smirk curved his lips.

"Welcome to my world, Alina."

The moment Alina stepped into her new office-"a glass-walled space right outside Damon's"-she felt the shift.

This was "his" territory. And now, it was "hers too."

A knock at her door pulled her from her thoughts.

She turned to find a man standing there. Tall, muscular, with sharp green eyes and a scar across his jaw.

"Name's Adrian," he said smoothly. "Damon's head of security."

Alina straightened. "Nice to meet you."

Adrian smirked. "I hope you know what you're getting into."

A cold shiver ran through her.

Before she could respond, the phone on her desk buzzed.

"Miss Carter," a voice said through the intercom. "Mr. Cross needs you in his office. Now."

She exhaled.

Her first "order."

Steeling herself, she pushed open the doors.

Damon didn't look up as she entered. He was focused on his computer, his expression unreadable.

"Sit."

Alina obeyed.

Seconds passed in silence before he finally looked at her.

"I need you to deliver something for me."

She blinked. "Deliver?"

He slid an "unmarked black envelope" across the desk.

Alina hesitated. "What's inside?"

Damon's lips barely twitched. "That's not your concern."

Her heart "stuttered."

Something told her this wasn't a "regular business assignment."

Still, she reached for the envelope.

"Where am I taking it?" she asked, voice steady.

Damon's eyes locked onto hers.

"An address will be sent to you."

A chill ran down her spine.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then-

"You should go."

Alina stood, gripping the envelope tightly as she walked out.

She had "barely started this job."

And already, she was in "too deep."

By the time Alina arrived at the address, night had fallen.

She stepped out of the cab, her stomach twisting as she took in the location.

A "warehouse."

Empty. Silent. "Wrong."

She hesitated, gripping the envelope tighter.

Then, before she could knock, the door swung open.

A man stood there. Older, with sharp eyes and a "scarred face."

"You Cross's new girl?" he asked.

Alina stiffened. "I'm just here to deliver this."

The man smirked, taking the envelope from her hands.

He slid it open, glancing inside. Then, his expression "shifted."

Cold.

Dangerous.

Alina's breath hitched as he turned his gaze back to her.

A second later, he "stepped aside."

"Come in."

Her pulse "spiked."

"I-no, I was just told to deliver-"

"I insist."

Alina's blood ran cold.

This wasn't "optional."

And suddenly, she realized...

"Damon had sent her into the lion's den."