BOUND BY DESIRE _THE BILLIONAIRE'S OBSESSION

The thought lodged in me like a second skin as I threaded my way through the sea of glittering gowns and polished shoes, gripping the tray tightly enough that my knuckles ached. The Grand Metropolitan Hotel was a palace of wealth, where people like me were meant only to serve, not to be seen.

And I had to remain unseen.

The dress they'd issued me for this waitressing job seemed like a second punishment too tight, too short, made to make us look appealing rather than professional. Pulling at the hem, balancing those champagne flutes, and offering a polite, rehearsed smile. One night. Just one night. Then I'd take my paltry paycheck and return to scraping by.

The men in wearing expensive suits hardly looked at me, muttering in low, conspiratorial voices. The women gave each other practiced smiles, their diamonds glittering beneath the chandeliers. This had been a smothering world of power plays and secret agendas. And I didn't belong here.

Until I committed the biggest mistake in my life.

It happened quickly too quickly to cut off. I turned, serving tray in hand, and bumped into something solid. No, someone. A sharp gasp escaped my lips as champagne flutes toppled and an unrelenting cascade of golden liquid drenched the front of an exquisitely tailored black suit.

The noise around me didn't break. It shifted. The ripple of silence spread outward, eyes turning toward the disaster I had just wrought.

My stomach plummeted.

Damian Blackwood.

And even if I didn't recognize his face, I would have known. He was the kind of guy who demanded attention tall, broad-shouldered, everything about him screaming control. His dark eyes focused on me, inscrutable, as if judging whether I was quality enough to be destroyed.

A vice grew around my throat. I opened my mouth, my brain racing for something to say, but my voice hardly functioned. "I, I'm so sorry"

Before I could back away, his fingers closed around my wrist. Not painful, but firm. Controlling.

The breath froze in my lungs.

His suit was ruined. I was ruined.

"Do you have any idea," he whispered, voice like silk over steel, "what you just did?"

"I, I'll get napkins," I said abruptly. My voice sounded too thin, too weak.

His grip slackened, just enough to send my pulse racing. "Don't bother."

I swallowed hard. He had that kind of intensity in his gaze. This man was danger stuck with a beautiful barista, the kind of man who could shatter a soul at will with a brush of his wrist.

And yet, I didn't move.

"I could have you fired," he added, almost thoughtfully. "Humiliated. Or even blacklisted from working here again."

A wave of panic crashed coldly over me. "Please, I"

"What's your name?"

It wasn't a question. It was a demand.

"Elena," I managed, pulse pounding.

His mouth lifted just at one end, but nothing close to kindness far too dark. Calculating. "Elena." He let my name brush his tongue, so to speak, testing it, tasting it. "Interesting."

I struggled to inhale, struggling to breathe fine enough the air too thick as it closed on me. I stood, teetering on the edge of a cliff, one misstep away from plummeting into a world I didn't know.

"I have an offer for you."

Those words gave me chills all over.

I should have walked away. I should have said sorry again and ran.

But Damian Blackwood was still gripping my wrist. And the way he kept looking at me made it clear running was never an option.

"A proposition?" My voice came out weaker than I intended, I repeated.

Damian Blackwood hadn't released my wrist yet. His fingers were warm, firm possessive in a manner that made my pulse skitter like a polygraph needle. The champagne I had poured atop his head was forgotten, but I wasn't so naïve as to believe he hadn't written down my name.

People like him did not forget things.

Between us, the air thickened, crackled, with unuttered things. I should have backed up, should have looked away, but there was something in his gaze that gripped me.

"You interest me, Elena," he said at last.

I swallowed. "That's not necessarily a positive thing, is it?"

His lips quirked up a smirk, but a humorless one. More like a predator playing with its prey. "That depends."

I loathed the way my body responded to him that knot in my stomach, the tingling of skin under his hand. Damian Blackwood was the type of man women loved or loathed. And I hadn't figured out what category I was in yet.

"What ... what do you even want from me?" I asked cautiously.

His fingers relaxed around my wrist but didn't release. I wobbled my head and his head tilted to an angle, as if he was analyzing me at a different angle. "Well, let's just say ... I like things that are entertaining." And at this moment, you are incredibly entertaining."

I frowned. "I'm not here to entertain you.

A dark chuckle escaped him, sending chills up my spine. "Oh, but you already have."

I felt a surge of anger and clenched my jaw. This was a game to him. A powerful billionaire, torturing a girl with no escape. To him I was nothing - an interesting blip in an accidental encounter.

And yet...

"You didn't answer my question," I said, putting steel into my voice.

His fingers stroked the inside of my wrist, a mere ghost of a touch, and I felt it everywhere. My breath hitched. He noticed.

Damian angled in slightly as he lowered his voice into something only I could hear. "I want to find out how much you want to risk."

I felt an eruption of goosebumps along my arms. "For what?"

"For me."

The way he said it so definitive, so menacing made my stomach churn.

That hit me, full force, then.

Damian Blackwood was not just flirting. He was testing me.

I was a waitress, nobody. And still, there he was, holding my wrist like he already owned a piece of me. Offering something I wasn't able to understand yet.

I was on the verge of telling him off, of pulling my arm free and walking away, when a hard voice sliced through us.

"There you are, Damian."

I jumped when a breathtaking woman sauntered toward me, long tendrils of ice-blue silk lapped under the glimmering lights. Blonde hair elegantly coiffed, she had sharp cheekbones and cold, appraising eyes. She gave me a look like I was the stink on the bottom of her designer heels.

Damian's face remained unchanged, but the atmosphere around us did. He didn't let go of my wrist, but I could sense the shift in his energy as if he was waiting to see how I would respond.

"Who's this?" the woman said, glancing between us.

"Elena," Damian said smoothly. "She's... interesting."

My stomach twisted.

The woman arched an eyebrow. "A waitress?" The way she said it bristled my skin with embarrassment.

I pulled my arm back, heat flushing my cheeks. "Sorry," I said, retreating a step.

I needed to leave. Now.

I whirled away, disregarding the way my heartbeat in my ribs. My pulse thudded in my ears as I walked, winding through the haze of rich strangers, needing to put distance between me and the touch of Damian Blackwood.

But as soon as I entered the back hall, a warm breath ghosted across my ear.

"Running already?"

My entire body stiffened.

Damian.

He had followed me.

I whirled around, but he was too near, his hulking form filling up the dim hallway. Here, the music from the ballroom was muffled and the air felt heavy with tension.

"I'm not running," I said, but my voice did not have my back.

Something unreadable flickered in his dark eyes. "You should be."

I swallowed. "Why?"

Damian leaned closer, his fingers grazing my waist so lightly I could hardly feel it - but my body could.

"And now that I'm aware of you, Elena," he said, his lips hovering above mine, "I don't think I'll be able to stop."

My breath hitched.

The worst part?

I didn't want him to.

Instead, my feet were planted on the ground like a rabbit caught underneath the gaze of Damian Blackwood. My body was screaming at me to run, put as much distance between us as I could before I did something I could never take back.

But my body wasn't listening.

His scent deep, costly, dangerously intoxicating draped over me like an invisible shackle. The air surrounding us buzzed, charged with something I wasn't allowed to feel.

"I have to get back to work," I whispered.

Damian's mouth curled slightly, as if he knew how well he was drying me out. Is that what you want, Elena, like, really?

His fingers danced across my waist again soft, teasing but not accidental. My breath hitched.

This was wrong.

I was nobody. A waitress. He was Damian Blackwood. One word from him could destroy someone.

And yet...

"Let me go," I gasped, although even I wasn't sure if I meant it.

For a long moment he remained still. And just like that, as quickly as he'd crossed the gap between us, he pulled away. The warmth evaporated at once, but did nothing for the panicked thumping of my heart.

"Go, then," he said, coolly, as though this had all not happened. Like he hadn't rocked my whole world off its axis already with a single touch.

I turned on my heel and walked away before I could change my mind.

I didn't look back.

I lumbered into the employee break room, hands trembling as I fumbled for the nearest counter. When I was alone, reality set in.

What the hell had just taken place?

My heart was still racing, my body still tingling from something I didn't want to name. One thing was certain: Damian Blackwood was a menace. And I had only just gotten his attention.

A mistake. A huge mistake.

"I had to pretend this didn't even happen." I needed to push out of my head the way he'd looked at me, the way his touch still lingered.

I was still trying to rein in my breathing when the door swung open.

"Elena," a sharp voice said.

I turned around, and my stomach sank at the sight of my supervisor Richard. His face was tight and his arms were crossed and his eyes were cold.

"What do you think you were doing? he hissed.

My throat dried. He saw.

"I"

"Do you know who that man is? Richard took it upon himself to interrupt me. "Damian Blackwood is one of the most powerful men in this city. You think you can hit him with a drink and" He took a deep breath, as if trying to keep his anger in check. "You're done for the night."

Panic shot through me. "Wait"

"Save it." His voice was final. "You're lucky you're not fired on the spot."

He turned on his heel and left, banging the door as he exited.

I drew in a shuddering breath, my fingers twisting along the edge of the counter.

I'd lost count of how many times Damian Blackwood had ruined my night.

I didn't just lose control. I lost my job.

And the worst part?

I didn't know if I should feel regret.

As I filed out through the employee exit, I still felt a knot in my stomach. The cold night air nipped at my face as I stepped out, but that did nothing to clear my brain.

I had walked halfway down the alley, preoccupied, when a voice called out to me.

"Elena."

I froze.

I knew that voice.

Slowly, I turned.

Damian Blackwood stood at the mouth of the alley with his hands shoved into his pockets and a look in his eyes that made my blood run cold.

Why was he here?

"You're following me now?" I knew I needed to sound calm, so I pushed out.

Not a single hint of a smile. "Let's call it... curiosity."

I swallowed hard. "What do you want?"

He moved closer, a figure larger than life, even in the dark. "I heard you lost your job."

My stomach twisted. "That's not your business."

"Maybe not." He tilted his head slightly. "But I'm giving you something better."

My pulse quickened. "What?"

What he said next terrified me to the core.

"Come work for me."

I blinked. "You're joking."

"Do I look like I'm joking?" He spoke in a steady voice and a calm tone, but his eyes disclosed the truth.

A warning.

A promise.

I should have said no.

But the way he looked at me the way he spoke as though he already knew what I was going to say made my stomach twist.

I had no job. No security.

And Damian Blackwood knew it.

He was offering me something I didn't yet know to call by name. Something that would either save me

Or destroy me.

I should have walked away.

Damian Blackwood was not a man who made idle offers. A person who saw something they desired and snatched it without hesitation.

And right now, he wanted me.

"I don't get it," I said, shakily. Why would you want to hire me?"

Damian stepped forward slowly, his girth filling an already narrow alley. "Because I need someone like you.

A chill ran through me. Someone like me?

I gripped a fist against my other hand, determined to disregard how loudly my pulse thumped at how he looked at me. "You don't even know me."

"I know enough." His voice was smooth and dangerous. "You're obstinate, you're rash, and you're not easily scared."

I swallowed hard. "That is not exactly a job qualification."

The corners of his mouth turned up on one side in humor. "That depends on the job."

There was a chill up my spine with the tone he said it. I should have asked him right away what he meant. I should have pressed for answers, I should not have been standing there like a caged bird, caught between fear and something I wanted no part of.

What kind of job, I said instead, quietly.

Something inscrutable flickered in his dark eyes. "One that pays well."

That wasn't an answer.

I inhaled shakily, struggling to think. "I don't trust you."

Damian chuckled. "Good."

Good?

His gaze never wavered. "Trust is earned, Elena. I don't expect you to relinquish it willingly."

I had to get out of here. This conversation, this moment, seemed the beginning of something I couldn't walk away from.

"I need time," I said after some time.

Damian nodded, but something in his expression told me he was not used to waiting. He expected me to give in.

And that terrified me.

I turned back, walking away, my body buzzing from his body behind me. I didn't look back.

But I felt him watching me.

And I knew it wouldn't be the last I'd seen of him.

I barely slept that night.

Damian's words were reverberating in my mind, repeating like the loose end of a spark plug wire.

Come work for me.

I didn't even know exactly what he did. I mean, sure I knew his name. Everyone did. Billionaire. Powerhouse. A man who everyone talked about only in hushed tones, in rooms where the air was thick with money and the fear of the man who gave it to you.

But what exactly did he want from me?

By morning, I was a wreck. Meanwhile, my bank account was empty and my rent was due in less than two weeks. I needed a job. Now.

I put on a plain black dress and made a list of restaurants and hotels where I could apply. Anything that might put distance between me and Damian Blackwood.

I had been to four places by noon. All dead ends.

By evening, I was exhausted.

And then my phone rang.

I squinted at the unfamiliar number. Hesitated. Then I picked up. "Hello?"

"Elena."

My stomach dropped.

I knew that voice.

My grip on the phone tightened. "How did you get my number?"

My heart stuttered with Damian's low chuckle. "Does it matter?"

It did. It really did.

"I told you I need time," I said, stiff-backed.

"I gave you a day."

I exhaled sharply. "That's not time."

"That is more than most people get." He was so mild-mannered, like I wasn't having that feeling of being hunted.

I forced myself to stay firm. "Thank you for the offer but I like something different."

Silence.

Then, "Are you?"

His tone made my skin prickle. I suddenly felt naked, like he knew that I had been searching for work all day the day, and had come up empty.

Damian was never a man who did not know stuff.

My stomach twisted. "What do you want from me?"

Another pause. Then, his voice dipped lower. "Dinner."

I blinked. "What?"

"I'm sending a car. Be ready in an hour."

The line went dead.

I was frozen, staring at my phone, my heart racing.

Damian Blackwood had just ordered me not asked, ordered me to dinner.

I should have ignored him.

"I should have blocked his number."

And instead, stood before my closet with a racing heart, knowing damn well my only option was to walk away from him.

Not really.

I should have told 86'd his number, put my phone to sleep and feigned I didn't hear Damian Blackwood tentatively say he would send a car.

But an hour later, I was standing at the window, eyeing the black sleek car idling outside my apartment.

I wasn't stupid. I also knew that men like Damian didn't give casual dinner invites. This wasn't a date. It was something else.

Heading into something I absolutely should not.

But my feet took me to the door anyway.

At most, the driver spoke as he pleaded open the car door for me. The interior wasley what I imagined grandiose, muted and uncomfortably intimate.

The very first time I walked inside it, I could sense it.

Power.

In the leather seats, in the tinted windows, in how the engine rumbled softly as we drove away. Damian Blackwood's world was the opposite of mine, and here I was about to enter it.

We traveled through neighborhoods that I knew so little about I hardly recognized them as the city lights faded into the distance. I gripped my purse more tightly as my brain pleaded with me to turn around.

But it was too late for that.

A few minutes later, the car arrived at a private entrance to an upscale restaurant I only had seen in magazines. I opened the door, and opening it for me, The driver opened it for me, and opening my door before I had even had a breath.

Damian was standing there.

His black suit, crisp and easy going, was tailor made. But it was not what was on their bodies that got my blood going.

It was how he looked at me.

Like he already owned me.

"Elena." His voice was smooth as silk. "You came."

I swallowed. "Did I have a choice?"

Something played in his dark eyes amusement? Challenge? "You always have a choice."

I opened my door, not wanting to notice how his eyes burned on me. "Then why do I feel like I just made a deal with the devil?"

His lips curved slightly. "Because you're smart."

A shiver ran down my spine.

The inside of the restaurant was dark and crowded, the patrons exuding both wealth and importance. People turned to stare at me as we passed but Damian didn't even notice.

It was unsettling. The way people watched him. How they twisted theirs and got out of his way.

Like they feared him.

They ushered us to a private booth in the back, away from prying eyes. Damian sunk into his chair, his eyes following me as I settled into mine.

A waiter arrived immediately to pour us a deep-red wine and said nary a word. Damian didn't even glance at the menu.

"I'll take care of ordering for us," he said smoothly.

I stiffened. "I can order for myself."

Something inscrutable flashed in his eyes. "I know."

But he didn't give me a menu.

I nipped back, but I didn't fight it. Not yet.

First, I had to figure out what this was, exactly.

"Or," I said, crossing my arms. "Are you going to tell me why I'm here?"

Damian leaned back, studying me with those dark eyes of his. "You lost your job."

I was tense. "Thanks for the reminder."

"I told you I had an offer."

I exhaled sharply. "You never said what it was."

His lips curved slightly. "Because you weren't ready to hear it.

There was something in the way he said that that twisted my stomach.

I lifted my chin. "And now I am?"

His fingers traced the rim of his glass, slow, contemplative. "Now you are so desperate you will listen."

I hated how well he read me.

I glared at him. "I'm not desperate."

Damian chuckled. "Someone sitting here across from a man she can't trust, unable to work all day ... Sounds desperate to me."

I was bursting out a fist under the table. "You're an ass."

He smirked. "So I've been told."

I exhaled sharply. "Just tell me what you want."

Damian's expression shifted. The teasing note was gone, replaced by something darker.

More serious.

"I need an assistant."

I blinked. "What?"

"You will work for me," he said, smoothly. "You will be scheduling my time - in meetings with me, doing the things that I don't have time to do."

I frowned. "You mean like a secretary?"

"No." The voice sounded crisp and sure. "I have plenty of those. "I want someone who can take care of things ... discreetly."

I hesitated. "What kind of things?"

Damian's eyes darkened. "The sort, in which words shouldn't be spoken."

A slothful chill crawled down my spine.

This was a mistake.

I was supposed to rise up and walk away and never return.

But when she walked toward me, I said, "And why me?"

Damian leaned closer, voice low, dangerously soft.

"Because you're interesting to me, Elena."

My breath caught.

He hadn't been trying to get to me, but he had.

Damian Blackwood, he wasn't much of a compliment giver.

And yet ... he had just told me I intrigued him."

I made myself hold his gaze. "And if I say no?"

His expression didn't change.

"You won't."

A shiver ran down my spine.

Because the terrifying part?

I wasn't sure he was wrong

I could have given Damian Blackwood an exact location for where he could shove his offer and walked out, never looking back.

But I didn't.

Instead, I sat there, pulse pounding and fingers furled in my lap, staring at the man opposite me opposite me, the man in the jacket the man who a brief moment earlier had told me I intrigued him.

And I would hate that a small, treasonous part of me took such pleasure in hearing it.

I swallowed hard. "So let me get this straight. You want me to work for you, doing things that don't go on paper. So that's a nice way of saying you need a fixer."

Damian's mouth quirked a little. "Smart girl."

My stomach twisted. I knew it.

I leaned in and spoke in a low voice. "And what problem am I solving, exactly?"

Damian sipped his wine, unblinking. "Does it matter?"

My jaw tightened. "It matters if it's illegal."

He let out a low chuckle. "I'm a businessman, Elena, not a felon."

I wasn't convinced. Not for a second.

"Then why do they need me?"

Damian leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on me. "Because I have a lot of issues trusting people. And you..." He tilted his head. "You're that desperate, but you're not a fool. That makes you valuable."

I cried and snatched my glass. "I haven't said yes."

His dark eyes gleamed. "But you have not declined, however."

I hated that he was right.

Dinner was tense and silent. The food was heavenly and the wine costly, but barely tasted. It was turning me inside out in my head trying to understand.

Damian Blackwood wanted me to be his bitch.

He was wealthy and powerful and obviously dangerous in ways I somehow couldn't even imagine.

So why me?

I wasn't special. I was just some broke woman, unemployed, futureless, with no business sitting there in a restaurant with food that was probably more than my rent.

Unless...

My stomach twisted.

Unless he had something more than an assistant in mind.

I put down my fork. "Tell me the truth, Damian."

He arched his brow. "I always do."

I scoffed. "Sure you do." I folded my arms. "Could this be just an offer of employment really? Or do we exist hoping for something else?"

His smirk disappeared.

This time it was, for once, really ... serious.

"I keep work and play separate, Elena."  It was smooth, his voice, but there was an edge to it. "If I wanted in bed, I wouldn't have made it a job."

A chill ran down my spine.

The confidence in his tone that God help me, the way he said it is just...

It did something to me"The child in me constricted."

I exhaled sharply. "Good. 'Since I don't fuck my boss.'

Damian's lips twitched. "Not yet."

My pulse spiked. "Excuse me?"

He tilted his head to the side as he watched me. "You're already thinking about it."

I nearly choked. "I am not"

He smirked. Appears with a New York ti byline as "Lying Doesn't Become You, Elena."

I fisted my hands, beneath the table, and fought to breathe. This man was infuriating. Dangerous. Too damn sure of himself.

And worst of all?

He wasn't entirely wrong.

By the time dinner was finished, I was more exhausted than I'd been in weeks. Not physically. Mentally.

Damian led me out of the restaurant, one hand resting lightly on the small of my back. I should have waved it off, but my body betrayed me, far too cognizant of how he'd touched me.

A shiny black car already sat curbside. Damian flung the door open and stepped back so I could come inside.

I hesitated.

This felt like a moment.

A choice I couldn't undo."

I looked up at him. "And if I accept this... job?"

Damian's gaze was unreadable. "Then your life changes."

A warning.

A promise.

I swallowed hard. My heart pounded in my chest as I moved forward, past the point of no return.

And when I got into the car, he leaned closer to me, his breath warm in my ear.

"Welcome to my world, Elena."