The soft rustling of sheets stirred her.
Ava’s lashes fluttered open slowly, her temples pounding in a steady rhythm that matched the nauseating swirl in her stomach. The light filtering through the heavy curtains was dim, but the room was unfamiliar, too luxurious, too cold.
Not her bed.
Not her apartment.
Her breath hitched.
She sat up abruptly, the plush duvet falling from her shoulders. Her heart thundered as she looked around.
Where the hell was she?
That’s when she saw him.
Damien Valen.
Seated on the sleek leather couch, legs crossed, a tumbler of water in hand. He looked infuriatingly composed, as if he belonged in this silent, opulent room… as if he wasn’t the reason her panic was rising with each breath.
Her eyes widened, and she jerked the blanket closer to her chest, clutching it like a shield. “What the hell am I doing here?”
Her voice was hoarse, raw with sleep and rage.
He looked up from his glass, his expression unreadable. “Good morning.”
“Don’t ‘good morning’ me,” she snapped. “Where am I? Why the hell am I here?”
Damien leaned back slightly, his calm demeanor unshaken. “You were drunk. Stumbling drunk. You couldn’t even walk without falling over.”
Ava’s fingers dug into the blanket. She looked down at herself, then shoved the covers aside and checked under her clothes, panic flaring in her chest.
“I didn’t take advantage of you,” Damien said coolly, before she could say anything more. “I don’t fuck people when they’re drunk or sleeping. I fuck so you can feel it.”
The bluntness of his words hit her like a slap.
Her jaw dropped in stunned silence, then snapped shut again, rage bubbling over. “You arrogant bastard.”
She stood up, barefoot and still in her wrinkled dress from last night. Her hair was a mess, and her face felt tight with dried tears. But none of that mattered.
“What gave you the right to bring me to a hotel? To just… move me like I’m your damn responsibility?”
He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just stared at her as if her fury was beneath him.
“You passed out,” he said simply. “I wasn’t going to leave you in that bar. You didn’t even have a wallet. I figured you'd rather wake up somewhere safe than on the sidewalk.”
Ava’s fists clenched at her sides. “You don’t know me. You had no right.”
“I don’t need to know you to keep you from choking on your vomit.”
Her face burned with shame and fury. “I didn’t ask you to save me.”
“No,” Damien agreed, standing slowly and setting his glass on the table. “But you needed it.”
She flinched.
Silence fell between them. The tension was thick, electric.
He stepped closer, slowly, like a predator approaching prey that wasn’t quite ready to kill.
“Do you want to leave?” he asked.
She blinked. “What?”
“The door’s right there,” he said, his voice low, smooth. “You’re free to go.”
Ava stared at him, something twisting deep in her chest. A war of emotions clashing beneath her ribs: humiliation, confusion, exhaustion, and something darker. Something dangerous.
Without another word, she grabbed her shoes from the corner, shoved her feet in, and headed for the door.
But before she could leave, his voice stopped her cold.
“I have a proposition for you, Ava Morales.”
Her hand froze on the door handle.
Slowly, she turned.
“What did you say?”
His lips curved into the faintest ghost of a smirk. “Sit down. Hear me out. Then you can decide whether to walk away or change your entire life.”
Ava turned slowly, eyeing him with suspicion and caution. Damien hadn’t moved from where he stood, calm and unreadable, like a man who had already predicted her next five moves.
“I’m not interested in games,” she snapped. “Whatever you think…”
“I’m offering you fifty thousand dollars.”
Her breath caught in her throat.
Damien stepped forward, his hands in his pockets. “For your sister’s surgery.”
Her legs faltered beneath her, and she leaned slightly against the wall, her heart pounding wildly. “What did you just say?”
“I’ll cover the full amount. All of it. You’ll have the money by the end of the day.”
Shock rippled through her. She stared at him like he had grown horns.
“How do you know about my sister?” she asked, her voice low and shaky. “How do you even…”
“You talk in your sleep,” he said smoothly. “Quite a lot. Something about a hospital. A little girl who fainted. Needing money. And a certain ‘useless asshole’ who left you.”
Ava flushed, humiliation washing over her in a hot wave. “You listened to me while I was unconscious?”
“I didn’t exactly lean in for your deepest secrets, sweetheart,” he replied with a shrug. “You were loud. And angry.”
“You had no right,” she snapped. “That was my privacy!”
“You passed out in my suite.”
“Still doesn’t give you the right to know things about me,” she snapped, wrapping her arms around herself like armor.
He nodded once, then took a small folder from the side table and held it out. “Here’s the deal. You get fifty thousand. In return, you become my girlfriend.”
Ava blinked, frozen.
“But it won’t be real,” Damien added with a casual air. “You’ll play the part in public, attend a few events with me, look pretty on my arm, smile when needed. Behind closed doors…” He let the sentence trail off, his gaze lingering. “You’ll be mine. Submitted to me.”
Her stomach churned. “Yours?”
“I don’t do love, Ava. I don’t do attachments. But I do like control. I like ownership. I want you… under contract.”
She stared at the folder like it was some cursed object.
“And if I say no?”
He gave a small, indifferent shrug. “Then you walk out that door and figure out how to raise the money on your own. Your choice.”
She felt the walls close in around her, her throat tight, her eyes burning, but not from tears. From fury.
“You are a heartless bastard,” she said, her voice shaking.
Damien didn’t blink. “You’re not wrong.”
She looked at the folder one last time, then turned and stormed to the door.
But just before she left, he said quietly, “You’ll be back.”
Ava didn’t answer.
She just walked out, holding herself together until the elevator doors closed.
And then she fell apart.