Chapter 1 The Offer

Selene Vargas knew better than to answer the door after midnight.

Yet here she stood in her robe, barefoot, with a kitchen knife clutched behind her back-not because she felt unsafe, but because she'd learned the hard way: danger came dressed in expensive suits and whispered promises.

The man standing in the dim hallway was tall, tailored, and carrying an envelope thick enough to signal trouble.

"Miss Vargas?" His voice was smooth. Trained.

She hesitated. "Who's asking?"

He handed her the envelope. "The Empire Consortium has a proposition."

Her fingers trembled slightly as she took it. She hadn't heard that name in years-not since her father's political career crumbled in a scandal that left her family exiled from the elite. She opened the envelope and read.

> You are cordially invited to a temporary, discreet position under the employment of the Vale family. Compensation will be wired upon acceptance. Terms confidential.

She looked up, eyes narrowing. "Is this a joke?"

"It's an opportunity," the man said. "And you don't have the luxury to say no."

---

By noon the next day, Selene was in a black car with tinted windows, speeding toward the Vale estate just outside the capital. She had no suitcase-just a leather folder of her credentials and a fierce, coiled determination not to be used again.

The estate was an architectural power move. Cold stone, manicured hedges, and security that said: we don't trust the world, and we can afford not to.

Inside, everything smelled like old money and polished control.

She was shown into a room with a fireplace taller than her, where a man stood with his back to her, watching the flames like they owed him something.

"Selene Vargas," he said without turning. "You're punctual. That's rare in people who need things."

She studied the figure. Broad shoulders under a dark tailored suit. He turned slowly.

And then she saw his face.

Damon Vale.

He was younger than she expected. Maybe mid-thirties. But there was nothing soft about him. Not his clean jawline, not the dispassionate steel in his gaze.

"You'll be working for me," he said, walking toward her with predatory ease. "I need someone who understands discretion, intelligence, and loyalty. You understand those things?"

"I understand when I'm being toyed with," Selene replied.

That stopped him. His lips curved. Not a smile. A warning.

"You're here, which means you're willing to be owned," he said. "Now the only question is-what are you worth?"

She stepped closer, her voice low. "Try me and find out."

---

That night, she was given a guest room that overlooked the estate gardens. The silk sheets felt foreign against her skin. This place wasn't comfort-it was captivity laced in gold.

She should've been afraid. But all she felt was heat.

And when the door opened just past midnight-without a knock-she didn't move.

Damon stood there, uninvited.

He crossed the room with quiet command. Her body stiffened. She didn't know what he wanted-but she sensed what he needed.

"I don't fuck employees," he said.

"Then don't."

His eyes didn't leave her. "But you're not just an employee. Are you?"

She stood, letting her robe fall open just enough for the suggestion of skin.

"Why am I really here, Damon?"

He reached for her, fingers threading through her hair roughly. "To test me."

His mouth crashed into hers, hard. Hungry.

She responded in kind. Their kiss wasn't romance-it was war. Teeth. Tongue. Control battled control.

Her robe slid off her shoulders and pooled at her feet.

His hands claimed her hips, pulling her against his hardness. He pushed her down onto the bed, trailing kisses down her throat, his breath hot against her collarbone.

"Tell me to stop," he growled.

"I'd rather bite," she whispered-and did.

Clothes were torn, breath stolen.

When he entered her, it wasn't slow-it was brutal, possessive, necessary. She gasped, arching, nails digging into his back as he drove into her again and again. The headboard slammed against the wall in rhythm.

He held her wrists above her head, panting against her ear. "You're a weapon."

"Then use me," she moaned.

And he did.

Again.

And again.

Until the room reeked of sex, sweat, and something dangerously close to obsession.

---