Chapter 20: The Devil Wants A Reward (Steamy)
The first day of her internship was pure corporate warfare.
Instead of actual marketing strategy, Mr. Harris had banished Ana to the subterranean levels of the building. She spent eight grueling hours in a damp, windowless archive room, lifting heavy boxes and sorting through decades-old physical documents that felt barely useful.
By the time the clock struck five, her fingers were covered in paper cuts, her back was aching, and her clothes felt coated in dust.
Ana let out a weary sigh, reaching for her bag. But before she could step away from her desk, her new iPhone buzzed.
Damian: Come up to the top floor. Now.
Before she could even type a reply, Marcus, Damian’s personal assistant, appeared at the entrance of the bullpen. "Anastasia, please follow me. Mr. Sterling is waiting."
Following Marcus up the private elevator bank, they reached the executive penthouse. The heavy double doors opened into a space that looked less like a corporate office and more like a sprawling, ultra-luxury private suite.
It was a fortress where Damian could practically eat, sleep, and live without ever leaving the building.
Damian was sitting behind his massive desk, his suit jacket discarded and the top buttons of his black shirt undone.
"Why did you call me up here?" Ana asked, her voice tight with exhaustion as the doors closed behind Marcus. "It’s time to go home."
Damian didn’t look up from his tablet immediately. "From now on, every single day after work, you will come straight up to this office and wait for me until I am ready to leave."
Ana let out a quiet, bitter scoff. She couldn’t help it. Before the world, he claimed her possessively, pretending to care. But behind closed doors, he stripped away every ounce of her dignity, treating her like a caged animal.
Damian finally stood up. His massive, intimidating frame moved with a slow, predatory grace as he walked out from behind the desk, approaching her.
"How was your first day as an intern, Anastasia?" He murmured, his dark eyes tracking the defiant tilt of her chin.
Before she could answer, his large hand clamped firmly around her wrist. Without waiting for her compliance, he pulled her out of the suite and back toward the private elevator.
"It was fine," Ana said, forcing a confident, almost arrogant tone into her voice. She deliberately tried to flex in front of him, desperate to prove a point. "I’ve been forced to do much harder labor than sorting paper for the past ten years. This was nothing."
She wanted him to know she wasn’t broken. She wanted him to see she was strong enough to fight him.
But in her desperate attempt to win a petty verbal victory, she forgot one crucial thing.
It was the Devil standing right beside her.
The private elevator doors slid shut, sealing them in absolute, suffocating isolation as the cabin began its descent. Damian slowly turned to face her. A dark, dangerous smirk pulled at the corner of his lips.
"Is that so?" Damian purred, his deep baritone echoing in the enclosed space. "If I made your life so easy today, shouldn’t you be grateful to me?"
Ana’s breath hitched. She suddenly became acutely aware of how small the elevator felt, and how utterly alone they were.
"How about my slave rewards her master?" He murmured, stepping directly into her personal space. The sheer heat radiating off his body completely enveloped her. "How are you going to reward me, Anastasia?"
Ana backed up until her spine hit the wall of the cabin. Her heart hammered wildly against her ribs, her earlier confidence evaporating into pure panic.
"I... I don’t know how to decide that," she stammered meekly, her eyes darting everywhere but his face. "I need time to think..."
"Time’s up," Damian growled softly.
In a split second, he closed the remaining distance. He violently pushed her against the elevator wall, caging her completely between his massive arms.
His hands pinned her wrists flat against the glass above her head, his heavy, solid weight crushing her body beneath his.
"If you can’t decide," he whispered against her skin, his eyes burning with a dark, untamed hunger, "then I’ll decide for you."
Before she could even gasp, Damian slammed his lips down onto hers, devouring her mouth in a brutal, breath-taking kiss that caught her completely off guard.
Ana’s gasp was instantly swallowed by his mouth.
His tongue invaded with a fierce, possessive hunger, parting her lips effortlessly and tasting her with a dangerous intensity that made her head spin. The brutal restriction of his grip faded as he released her wrists.
His large hands sliding down her neck to grip her jaw, tilting her head back to deepen the kiss until she was completely breathless.
She wanted to push him away, to scream at him for doing this in a glass box that could open at any second. But the moment his calloused palms slid down her body, tracking the curve of her waist before dropping lower to heavily cup and squeeze her bare bottom through the tight pencil skirt... a familiar, shiver shot straight to her core.
Ana let out a muffled, desperate whimper against his lips, her fingers instinctively clawing at the crisp fabric of his suit jacket for support. Her knees felt like water.
The overwhelming sensation of being crushed against the cool mirrored wall by his burning, heavy frame was driving her into pure madness.
Damian growled against her mouth, his thigh ruthlessly driving between her legs, pressing directly against her aching center through their clothes. The friction was excruciatingly perfect.
His hands traveled back up, ripping her blazer open just enough to roughly slide his palms underneath the fabric, squeezing her breasts until her vision blurred with pleasure.
Ding.
The soft, expensive chime of the elevator echoed through the cabin.
The sudden sound shattered the trance. Before Ana could even push him away, the heavy silver doors slid open.
Damian didn’t panic.
With agonizing slowness, he stepped back just an inch, his massive frame still completely shielding Ana from view as she desperately tried to smooth down her disheveled blazer, her chest heaving as she fought for breath.
But the moment Damian turned his head toward the open doors, the air in the hallway turned to ice.
Standing right outside the elevator were two unexpected people.
Vivian Stark stood frozen on the left, her hands clenched so tightly around her designer handbag that her knuckles were stark white. Her eyes were wide, glittering with a volatile mix of shock, humiliation, and absolute fury as she stared at Ana’s swollen lips and Damian’s unbuttoned shirt.
But it was the man standing right beside Vivian that made the breath catch in Ana’s throat.
He was an older man, dressed in a sharp, conservative gray suit, his hair stark white at the temples. His face was etched with a chilling aura of authority.
He didn’t look like a typical corporate board member; there was a dangerous, calculating weight to his presence.
Suddenly, the older man’s piercing gaze shifted away from Damian and locked directly onto Ana. The sheer intensity of his eyes felt like a physical blow.
Ana’s heart skipped a beat as a wave of dread washed over her.
Who is this man? She thought, her fingers tightening around her bag. And why is he giving me such a cold, hateful stare?
She glanced up at Damian, expecting to see a flash of surprise or anger on his face. But his expression remained entirely unreadable, his jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as he stared back at the man.
He already knew exactly who the man was.
Vivian glanced between the two men, a smug, venomous glint briefly flashing in her eyes before she looked back at Damian.
"Damian," Vivian spoke up, her voice dropping into a tense, formal register. "I’m glad we caught you before you left. We need to talk."