The dining room was vast and intimidating, bathed in dim, ambient lighting that threw long shadows across the dark mahogany table. The space felt less like a home and more like a high-end prison as it used to be.
After what had just happened in the bathroom, Ana had expected to feel a sense of relief, a release of the tension that had been building for days. Yet, as she walked toward the table, a strange, restless tingling sensation still lingered at the pit of her stomach. Her body felt sensitive, aware of every breath she took.
At least she was comfortable. The maid had left her a set of warm, soft loungewear that felt like heaven against her skin... a stark contrast to the ragged clothes she had been wearing for the last two years.
As she neared the head of the table, she noticed a beautifully wrapped, large box sitting right beside her plate. Before she could ponder what was inside, the rich, savory aroma of freshly baked lasagna hit her senses.
Her stomach growled fiercely. She was absolutely starving. Forget pride, forget the contract... She needed to eat.
Ana quickly pulled out a chair, sat down, and reached for the serving spoon, eager to pile a massive portion onto her plate.
"Anastasia."
Damian’s deep tone cut through the quiet room. It wasn’t loud, but the sheer authority in his voice made her freeze instantly. He was sitting at the head of the table, completely dressed in a crisp black shirt, watching her with sharp, calculated eyes.
The underlying threat was clear... Remember your place. Remember the rules.
Ana’s heart gave a nervous flutter. She instantly dropped the spoon back into the dish, her cheeks flushing as she looked at him in alarm. Realizing she had violated the absolute obedience clause within minutes, she forced her voice to remain soft, almost sheepish.
"May... may I please have dinner with you, Damian?"
A slow, victorious smirk pulled at the corner of Damian’s lips. He took a slow sip of his red wine, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make her squirm before he gave a single, smooth nod.
"You may."
Relieved, Ana quickly served herself and began to eat, the delicious food finally grounding her frayed nerves. Damian ate in silence, his presence heavy and suffocating.
The tension in the room grew thicker with every passing minute, until he finally set his fork down and wiped his mouth with a black silk napkin.
He leaned back, his piercing gaze locking onto her face.
"Moving forward, things are going to change," Damian began, his voice dropping into an intense, unyielding register. "I have no intention of leaving you here alone during the day. I want you within my sight at all times, Anastasia."
Ana stopped chewing, looking up at him warily. "What do you mean?"
"Tomorrow morning, you are coming with me to Sterling Enterprises," he declared, resting his forearms on the table as he leaned in. "I am offering you an internship at my office. You will work directly under me, in my team."
Ana’s brow furrowed. "An internship? Damian, I don’t know anything about your current projects..."
"You don’t need to know anything," he interrupted coldly, his eyes tracking the nervous pulse fluttering in her neck. "Your only job is to be where I can see you. And your first day starts tomorrow morning at eight sharp. Don’t be late."
_______________________
The alarm blared relentlessly at precisely seven in the morning.
Ana sat up on the couch, a familiar, restless anxiety instantly tightening her stomach. After a sleepless night spent tossing and turning on the plush leather couch in his master suite, her body still felt slightly achy.
Stepping into the dressing room after her shower, she found that the maid had already laid out her attire for the day. It was a pristine, tailored charcoal-gray blazer and a matching pencil skirt that hugged her curves flawlessly.
Slipping into the fabric felt surreal; it was a far cry from the faded rags she had worn for the past two years.
By 7:45 AM, Ana was standing in the grand foyer, her heart hammering against her ribs. She had her new laptop bag slung over her shoulder, and the sleek new iPhone was gripped tightly in her hand. She had no choice but to bring it; disobeying his unspoken command to use the devices would only invite more punishment.
A heavy, deliberate step echoed from the top of the glass staircase.
Ana looked up as Damian descended. He looked devastatingly handsome and utterly lethal, dressed in a bespoke, three-piece midnight-black suit that screamed absolute power. His dark hair was perfectly styled, and his sharp eyes immediately locked onto her.
He stopped on the bottom step, looming over her as his gaze swept down her outfit, assessing every inch of her appearance with a cold, critical eye. Finally, his eyes drifted down to the smartphone in her hand.
A faint, mocking glint flared in his dark eyes.
"I see you’re learning to follow instructions, Anastasia," Damian murmured, his deep baritone sending a shiver down her spine. He stepped off the stairs, walking past her toward the massive double doors without stopping. "Let’s get breakfast done quickly. The driver is waiting."
The drive to the heart of Manhattan’s financial district was spent in a suffocating, tense silence. When the sleek black Maybach finally pulled up to the towering glass skyscraper of Sterling Enterprises, Ana’s breath caught in her throat.
The sheer scale of the building was intimidating, a monument to Damian’s absolute control over the city.
Damian climbed out first, and the moment Ana stepped onto the pavement, he reached down. Instead of a brutal grip, he smoothly slid his long, calloused fingers between hers, locking their hands together in a tight, unyielding show of possession.
Ana flinched, her instinct screaming at her to pull away from his touch. "Damian, what are you doing?" She whispered urgently as they approached the glass entrance.
"Smile, Anastasia," Damian commanded softly, his voice dropping into a dangerous, low warning near her ear as he pulled her flush against his side. "From this moment on, you are my devoted, recovered wife. Play the part, or face the consequences the moment the elevator doors close."
They stepped into the grand, lobby of the corporate headquarters.
Instantly, the bustling, high-stakes atmosphere of the office ground to a screeching halt. The receptionists froze.
High-level executives holding coffee cups stopped mid-sentence, their eyes widening in absolute shock. Whispers immediately began to ripple through the crowd like wildfire.
Is that... Anastasia Vance?
She’s actually back? After two years?
Ana felt the weight of hundreds of staring eyes burning into her skin. She felt naked, exposed, and utterly humiliated, forced to walk through the company she once knew while playing the part of a happy wife. She forced her lips into a tight, strained smile, her fingers trembling against his palm.
Damian, however, didn’t spare a single employee a glance. His expression remained entirely cold, ruthless, and dominant as he steered her directly toward his private executive elevator.
The heavy silver doors slid open, and he pulled her inside. The moment the doors shut, sealing them in absolute privacy as the elevator shot upward toward the penthouse suite, Damian’s public mask dropped.
He released her hand carelessly and turned to face her, trapping her against the mirrored wall of the elevator cabin.
"Not bad for your first performance," Damian murmured, his dark eyes tracking the frantic rise and fall of her chest. "But the real work starts now."
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