It wasn’t Evan, it was Damian.
His presence filled the space, every corner suffused with his control.
“What are you doing here?” My voice quivered the words barely a whisper.
He stepped inside, calm, assured, and entirely in control. “Going somewhere, Ms. Calloway?” His voice was smooth, but beneath it lay a darker edge—a possessiveness that made no sense after how casually cruel he’d been earlier today. And as much as I wanted to run into his arms and beg him for help, I couldn’t. Because Damian Blackwood wasn’t my savior, and after today, I wasn’t sure he was the kind of man I thought he was.
“I’m leaving,” I told him, my voice sharp. “Not that it matters to you. I’m sure you can get a new housekeeper elsewhere, Mr. Blackwood.” One he could fuck and then dismiss like she was nothing.
Anger flashed in his eyes, and he scowled down at me.
“You don’t get to leave,” he said softly, but with a sharpness that interrupted my attempt at a denial. I shut my mouth and then scowled back at him. Who the fuck did this man think he was?
“You can’t stop me.”
Damian stepped closer, his voice a low growl. “There isn’t anywhere you can go that I won’t be able to find you, Jade.”
And that was my own damn fault for deciding to work with a fucking criminal. So again, I was a fucking idiot.
“Get out,” I told him, glaring up at him. He’d once softened by my tears, but he didn’t right then. No, instead I saw his nostril flare as he reached out to grab my wrist. “Wha-Damian!”
Ignoring my protests, he dragged me away from my suitcase and my money, and my things. My panic grew as I started to struggle. “Damian, let me go! You don’t understand.”
His voice was dark when he replied. “I think I do, Miss Calloway.”
But by then he’d already dumped me in the backseat of his car, between his tech guy, Riley, and his head enforcer, Marc.
Chapter 2
Damian
The bedroom door clicked shut behind Riley and Marc as they left, the sound echoing in the cavernous stillness of the penthouse. My breaths were slow and calculated as I turned to face Jade.
She stood in front of me, still in her maid uniform—and if I was right in my assessment—still wet from my cum too. But her posture was defiant, her glare aimed at me.
“You’ve been lying to me from the start,” I said, my voice cold, yet filled with an edge that tightened the room. “I’ve had enough. Tell me the truth, Miss Calloway. What are you hiding?”
Her jaw clenched, her lips pressed into a thin line. Silent.
I moved closer, watching her every move, cataloging the smallest of shifts. She was strong, but not infallible. I could see the way her pulse quickened, her breath catching subtly—tiny cracks in her composure. She fought it, but I knew better. Knewherbetter.
“Lying doesn’t suit you,” I murmured, my voice a low, menacing tone. “Do you know what I do to people who lie to me?” She stayed silent, so I continued. “I tie them up and torture them. You know who I am, Miss Calloway. I made sure of that when you started working here. Don’t think I won’t hurt you.”
Her eyes flashed and she stiffened, her arms crossing tightly over her chest. “You don’t scare me, Damian,” she said, her voice steady despite the underlying tremor.
“Scare?” I echoed, a smile playing at the edge of my lips. “Maybe not. But it should. What I do with control—what I takewhen I’ve got you exactly where I want—should scare you.” In fact, it should fucking terrify her.
She met my gaze, unflinching. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Haven’t you?” I took another step forward, closing the space between us until there was barely any air left.
Doubt flickered across her expression. Her breath hitched, and I watched the way her chest rose sharply, betraying her. “No, I haven’t,” she whispered again, but this time, there was a crack in her voice—a vulnerability she couldn’t mask.
I leaned in, brushing my lips lightly against her ear. “Then why were you running from me, Jade?” I murmured, watching how her neck prickled with goosebumps when I said her name.
Her eyes flickered, her breath uneven. She tried to resist, tried not to lean against me. But she couldn’t help it. Just like I couldn’t help but stroke my knuckles against her cheek.
My hand trailed down her jaw, then her neck. Her shoulder. I couldn’t help myself, and I watched it with a frown, unable to stop myself from touching her skin, trailing them down her arm. Brushing against the softness of her wrist, a touch both tender and commanding. Making her shiver.
