The dining room table was miles long, but the distance between them felt completely suffocating.
Ana sat across from Damian, her silver fork held like a weapon. She viciously stabbed a piece of sausage on her plate, over and over, visualizing his smug, handsome face with every puncture.
She didn’t care about her job at his office, all she wanted was for him to apologise to her.
Damian casually took a sip of his black coffee, his expression completely unbothered as he scanned a tablet. He didn’t even look up as he spoke, his voice dripping with smooth arrogance. "Keep abusing the food, doll, and I’ll have the chef bring you a boxing bag."
Ana snapped her head up, throwing a lethal glare across the table, but he simply set his cup down, completely ignoring her murderous glare.
The drive to the office was no better.
Inside the back of the Maybach, Ana crossed her arms tightly over her chest, letting out loud, frustrated grumbles every few minutes. She wanted a fight. She wanted him to address the cruelty of leaving her completely breathless in that bathtub.
Instead, Damian leaned his head back against the leather headrest, his dark eyes closed, looking utterly relaxed and comfortable. The absolute audacity of his peace infuriated her to the point of tears.
When the car finally pulled up to the glittering glass towers of Sterling Global, Damian opened his eyes, buttoned his suit jacket, and stepped out.
He offered her his hand.
Ana took it for the sake of the act, but the moment they stepped into the private executive lobby, she intentionally dug her sharp fingernails directly into the center of his palm, pressing down with all the strength she had left.
Damian’s grip didn’t flinch. In fact, he didn’t even drop his polite, regal stride.
Instead, he pulled her body an inch closer to his side, bending his head down as if sharing a sweet, intimate marital secret. His lips brushed against the shell of her ear, his deep baritone dropping into a low, deadly rumble that sent a shiver straight down her spine.
"Keep digging those nails in, Anastasia," he whispered, his breath hot against her skin. "And I swear I will stop this elevator full of our staff, bend you over the railing, and take you right here until every single employee on this floor hears you screaming my name."
Ana’s breath hitched sharply. Her heart hammered against her ribs, and her fingers instantly went slack in his palm.
Damian let out a dark, satisfied chuckle against her hair, his iron grip maintaining control as the elevator doors slid shut with several high-ranking managers standing inside.
To the rest of the world, they looked like the picture-perfect, power couple. When the elevator reached the marketing floor, Damian leaned down, gently cupping her jaw, and pressed a soft, lingering peck to her lips.
"Have a productive day, darling," Damian said smoothly, his dark eyes glinting with pure, malicious amusement.
"I hate you," Ana hissed beneath her breath, her face burning crimson as the whispers of the surrounding employees rippled through the floor. Everyone was practically swooning over how loving and attentive the great Damian Sterling was to his new bride.
If only they knew the monster beneath the suit.
Ana turned around, smoothing her skirt, and marched toward the marketing team office, desperate to drown herself in work to forget his touch. But as she approached the executive corner of the floor, she froze.
The glass office that used to belong to Mr. Harris was no longer his.
Sitting behind the desk was a woman in her late thirties, dressed in a sharp, tailored cream blazer. Her hair was pulled into a flawless, sharp bob, and her sharp grey eyes were assessing a stack of files with terrifying efficiency.
A sleek new nameplate sat on the edge of the desk. Director Clara Reed, Head of Marketing & Strategy.
Vivian Stark’s puppet, Harris, was officially gone. But as Director Reed looked up through the glass and locked eyes with Ana, her expression completely unreadable, Ana realized a whole new game had just begun.
Director Clara Reed didn’t waste a single second establishing her dominance. Within thirty minutes of her arrival, she called all the interns to her glass office, assigning heavy project briefs and client accounts with rapid-fire efficiency.
Everyone was handed a thick file... except Anastasia.
When Ana stepped forward, holding her hands neatly in front of her, Clara adjusted her rimless glasses and looked at her with a cold, detached scrutiny.
"You don’t have a task, Miss Vance," Clara said smoothly, her voice carrying across the quiet room. "In fact, you are not to touch a single server, document, or client file until your formal evaluation with the board of directors is complete."
Ana stiffened, her jaw tightening. "My evaluation? Director Reed, I passed the HR onboarding."
"HR onboarded you as a courtesy to the Chairman," Clara countered flatly, stacking her files into an immaculate pile. "I run a results-driven department, not a charity. Until the board reviews your standing, you will sit at your desk and refrain from touching company property."
_______________________
An hour later, the atmosphere inside the grand 40th-floor boardroom was suffocatingly tense.
Damian sat at the head of the long mahogany table, his dark suit crisp, his hands folded loosely over his knee. His face was an unreadable, freezing mask, but his dark eyes were locked onto Clara Reed with lethal intensity.
Clara stood at the front of the room, presenting a slide deck to the six senior board members seated around the table.
"The facts are simple, gentlemen," Clara declared, her voice echoing clearly off the glass walls. "Miss Anastasia Vance has no corporate experience whatsoever. She has a blank gap of over four years on her resume. She was brought into the marketing department without standard vetting, effectively stealing a coveted spot from a worthy, hard-working candidate."
A few board members murmured among themselves, nodding in silent agreement.
"She is not taking anyone’s spot," Damian’s deep baritone cut through the murmurs, smooth and deadly as a blade.
The room instantly fell dead silent. Damian didn’t even shift in his seat, but his presence completely dominated the space.
"The marketing department had a strict cap of four intern positions," Damian continued coldly, his dark eyes burning into Clara. "All four of those candidates were hired. Anastasia was added as an auxiliary appointment. Furthermore, she holds a high-honors degree from a top-tier university and was raised as the heiress to the Vance estate. Her absence from the corporate workforce was a matter of family assets, not incompetence."
Clara didn’t back down. She turned to face Damian directly, her expression firm. "With all due respect, Mr. Sterling, a prestigious degree from half a decade ago, doesn’t prove she can handle modern corporate strategy. She needs to prove her worth. I cannot run a high-stakes department filled with spoiled heiresses and billionaires’ ex-wives."
The insult hung heavy in the air.
The board members looked between Damian and Clara, torn down the middle. Half agreed with Clara’s strict, performance-driven protocol, while the other half were too terrified of Damian to openly side against him.
Seeing the divide, Clara delivered her final term. "To keep this fair, I will personally prepare a comprehensive strategic assessment questionnaire for Miss Vance. If she passes, she stays under my supervision. If she fails, her internship is terminated immediately."
"Settled," one of the senior board members agreed quickly, eager to diffuse the tension.
Within minutes, the board members and Clara gathered their tablets and filed out of the room, leaving the heavy silence behind them.
The moment the double doors clicked shut, Damian’s composure broke.
THUD.
Damian hurled the thick leather project file onto the glass table with explosive force, the sharp sound reverberating through the empty room.
Marcus, who had been standing quietly in the corner, flinched slightly but stepped forward immediately.
Damian’s jaw was clenched so tight a muscle ticked in his cheek. He stared at the empty chair where Clara had just been sitting, his dark eyes flashing with pure, murderous fury.
"Marcus," Damian growled low in his throat, his baritone dripping with venom.
"Yes, Mr. Sterling?"
"Run a full background sweep on Clara Reed," Damian commanded. "Every account she’s managed, every shell company she’s touched, and every personal call she’s made in the last six months. I want to know who brought her in, who she answers to, and whether she’s someone’s new pet or a genuine threat."
Marcus bowed his head crisply. "Right away, sir."
Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!
Use arrow keys (or A / D) to PREV/NEXT chapter