Chapter 110: Chapter 109: The Assignment
DAMIEN’S POV - The Weekend
Damien spent the weekend in hell.
Not the productive kind of hell where he buried himself in work and emerged with solutions. The useless kind where he paced his study, drank too much scotch, and replayed Friday night on an endless loop.
Aria’s face when he’d kissed her in that bathroom. The desperate way she’d kissed him back. The devastation in her eyes when he’d told her to go back to Marcus
Her text: I’m close. I’m so close.
To breaking. To giving up. To walking away from him forever.
And the thought of losing her....really, truly losing her....was unbearable.
Julian had called Saturday afternoon.
"How are you holding up?"
"I’m not."
"Good. Because you shouldn’t be. What you did Friday was insane. Following her to the restaurant, cornering her in the bathroom, kissing her and then pushing her away...."
"I know. I’m a bastard."
"You’re going to lose her." Julian’s voice was sharp. "Not to another man. Not to betrayal. To exhaustion. She’s going to hit her breaking point and walk away, and you’ll have no one to blame but yourself."
"I know."
"Then do something about it! Either trust her and let her back in, or let her go completely. But this middle ground...this torture....it’s destroying you both."
After Julian hung up, Damien sat alone in his study and faced the truth he’d been avoiding.
He didn’t want distance. Didn’t want to keep testing her. Didn’t want to watch her suffer while he protected himself.
He wanted her. Completely. Desperately. In every way that mattered.
And seeing her with Marcus....watching another man make her laugh, make her relax, give her the normalcy Damien couldn’t....had shattered his last defenses.
He’d rather risk the pain of trusting her than live without her.
But that didn’t mean he was ready to give up control. Didn’t mean he’d forgotten the betrayal. Didn’t mean they could just go back to what they’d been.
No. If they were going to do this...if he was going to let her back in....it would be on his terms.
He’d claim her. Properly. Completely. Would remind her body who it belonged to. Would make sure she understood that choosing him meant submitting to him in every way.
Professional and personal. In the office and in private. On his schedule, according to his rules, with his complete control.
And if she couldn’t handle that....if she balked or resisted or tried to negotiate....then he’d know she wasn’t really ready. Wasn’t really his.
But if she submitted. If she gave him everything he demanded without question or hesitation.
Then maybe....maybe....he could start to trust her again.
The decision made, Damien spent Sunday preparing. Planning exactly what he’d say. How he’d phrase the new terms of their arrangement. What punishment he’d give her first.
By Monday morning, he was ready.
Ready to either claim her completely or lose her forever.
Either way, the torture was about to end.
**********
ARIA’S POV - Monday Morning
Monday arrived with the inevitability of a executioner’s blade.
Aria woke at 5 AM feeling like she hadn’t slept at all. Her dreams had been fragmented, chaotic.....Damien’s mouth on hers, his voice saying I don’t know what I want, Marcus’s concerned face, her own voice breaking as she said I’m so close.
She dragged herself through her morning routine on autopilot. Shower. Coffee. Getting dressed in her standard work uniform....black pencil skirt, white blouse, heels that made her legs look longer but killed her feet by the end of the day.
Her mother was already up, watching her with worried eyes over her own coffee.
"You look exhausted, baby girl."
"I am exhausted."
"Did you sleep at all?"
"Not really." Aria grabbed her bag, checked that she had everything. "I kept thinking about.....about everything."
"About Friday? About him kissing you?"
Aria had told her mother everything Saturday morning, breaking down over breakfast, the whole story spilling out between sobs.
"Yes. I don’t know what to expect today. Don’t know if he’ll be cold again, or if Friday changed something, or if....." She stopped, unable to voice her deepest fear.
"Or if he’ll finally let you in?" Mei finished gently.
"Or if he’ll decide I’m too much trouble and fire me."
"He won’t fire you. That man loves you. Even I can see that."
"Love isn’t always enough."
"No. But it’s a start." Mei came to hug her. "Whatever happens today....you’re strong enough to handle it. And if you’re not, you come home to me. Understand?"
Aria nodded against her mother’s shoulder, drawing strength from the embrace.
Then she left for work, heading into whatever fresh hell Monday would bring.
She arrived at Blackwood Enterprises at 7:45 AM exactly, her hands shaking slightly as she rode the elevator to the 47th floor.
The office was quiet this early. Just a few workaholics already at their desks. The receptionist gave her a friendly nod as she passed.
Everything looked normal. Felt normal.
But something in the air was different. Charged. Like the atmosphere before a thunderstorm.
Aria set down her bag at her desk and immediately went to prepare Damien’s coffee. Black, no sugar, 180 degrees. The routine was comforting in its familiarity.
When she returned to her desk, coffee ready in the warming station, she looked up at his office.
He was already there.
Usually, he arrived at 8 AM sharp. But today, he was already behind his desk, already working. Like he’d come in early. Like he’d been waiting.
Through the glass walls, their eyes met.
And something in his gaze made her breath catch.
Not cold. Not distant. Something else. Something intense and focused and...Hungry.
He looked at her like a predator who’d finally decided to stop circling and start hunting.
Her phone buzzed. A text from his private number.
My office. Bring the coffee.
Her hands shook as she retrieved the cup and walked to his door. She knocked once.
"Come in."
The moment she stepped inside, she felt it....the shift in energy. The air was thick with tension, with intent, with something that made her pulse race.
"Good morning, Aria." His voice was calm, controlled, but his eyes....his eyes were anything but calm.
"Good morning, sir."
She set the coffee on his desk, started to turn away.
"Stay. Close the door."
She did, her heart pounding.
"How was your weekend?" he asked, his tone conversational. Like they were making small talk. Like the air between them wasn’t crackling with electricity.
"Quiet. Spent time with my mother."
"And Marcus? Did you see him again?"
The question was casual but loaded.
"No. Just my mother."
"Good." He stood, moved around the desk with that predatory grace that made her stomach flip. "I’ve been thinking. About Friday. About you with him. About this entire situation we’ve created."
She braced herself. For anger. For more tests. For whatever punishment he’d devised for having dinner with another man.
"I realized something this weekend," Damien continued, moving closer. "I’ve been going about this all wrong."
"Wrong how?"
"I’ve been trying to protect myself by keeping distance. By testing you. By making you prove yourself over and over." He stopped three feet away, his eyes locked on hers. "But all that’s done is torture us both. And Friday....seeing you with him.....made me realize something."
"What?" Her voice was barely a whisper.
"That I’d rather risk the pain of trusting you than live without you. That I’d rather claim you and possibly get hurt than watch you slip away to someone else. That I need you more than I need protection from pain."
Hope flared in her chest, painful and bright. "Damien..."
"But," he interrupted, his voice taking on that commanding edge she knew so well, "that doesn’t mean I’m ready to just forgive and forget. Doesn’t mean we go back to what we were. Doesn’t mean I’m giving up control."
"I don’t understand."
"You will." He moved closer, and she could smell his cologne, feel the heat of his body. "We’re going to try something different. Starting today."
"What do you mean?"
"I’m going to stop keeping distance. Stop pretending I don’t want you. Stop denying what we both need." His hand came up, almost touched her face, then dropped. "But it’s still on my terms. My control. My rules."
Her breath came faster. "What kind of rules?"
"You agreed to complete submission when you took this job. Do you remember?"
"Yes."
"You agreed to punishment when I decide you deserve it. To giving me total control. Professional and personal."
"Yes."
"But we haven’t actually enacted that part of our agreement yet, have we? We’ve been maintaining professional boundaries. Pretending this is just a job." His eyes bore into hers. "It’s not just a job. Is it, Aria?"
"No." The admission was barely audible. "It’s not just a job."
"No. It’s not. And starting today, we stop pretending." He circled around her, slowly, like he was examining prey. "From now on, when I decide you need to be reminded who you belong to, we’ll handle it. Here. In this office."
Her pulse raced. "What do you mean ’handle it’?"
He completed his circle, standing in front of her again. "I mean I’ll touch you. Punish you. Make you come. Whatever I decide you need. Whenever I decide you need it."
"During work hours?" The thought was scandalous, terrifying, arousing.
"Whenever I decide," he repeated. "The glass walls mean we have to be discreet. But Aria...." His voice dropped to that dangerous register that made her knees weak. "You’re going to learn to be very quiet."
She should refuse. Should tell him this was insane. Should remind him they were in a professional office where anyone could see.
But all she said was: "Okay."
"Okay?" His eyebrow raised. "That’s all? No arguments? No negotiation?"
"You said complete submission. On your terms. I agreed to that." She lifted her chin, meeting his eyes. "So if this is what you need....what we need....then okay."
Something flashed in his eyes. Satisfaction.
"Good. Because right now, I’ve decided you need your first real punishment."
