I couldn't sleep.
Every time I closed my eyes, the image came back. Me. Damien. Inches apart. The shadows of his office. The static tension between us is frozen in a grainy photo from someone's lens.
But it wasn't the image that unsettled me most. It was the message.
"One wrong move and you're done."
Whoever sent it knew where I was. When I was alone. What I'd done.
And they wanted me to feel it.
I sat up in bed, phone gripped in my hand like a lifeline. My apartment was silent except for the hum of the fridge and the occasional creak in the pipes. But I didn't feel alone. Not really.
I didn't know if it was paranoia or instinct, but something had shifted. Something was off.
And I was being watched.
I got out of bed, padded barefoot across the cool floor, and double-checked every window and lock. Nothing was broken. Nothing disturbed. Still, the warning buzzed in my chest like a faulty wire.
I didn't sleep that night.
When morning finally came, I dressed in silence in black trousers, a fitted blouse, hair slicked back. Clean lines. Controlled exterior. No one at Strickland & Chase needed to see the storm underneath.
Especially not him.
When I arrived at the office, the receptionist bright-eyed, red-lipped, way too cheerful for seven in the morning smiled a little too knowingly.
"Good morning, Miss Vale," she chirped. "Mr. Strickland's already in. He asked to see you the moment you arrived."
Of course he did.
My heels clicked against the polished floor as I walked to the elevator. People stared as I passed. A few whispered. A man from accounting raised his brows. Another girl from legal stopped mid-step.
What the hell?
I tapped the elevator button, chest tightening. Had they seen the photo? Did they know?
Was this how secrets started leaking? Not with a bang, but a buzz.
The elevator doors opened.
And there he was.
Damien Strickland. Standing in the centre, arms folded. Like he'd been waiting for me.
He wore a charcoal suit today, dark grey with a navy tie. His hair was neat, but not too perfect. His jaw was clean, mouth unreadable. But his eyes… those eyes locked on mine the second I stepped inside and didn't move.
The doors slid shut.
I stood next to him in silence, aware of every breath between us.
He didn't look at me. Not directly. But I felt him thinking.
"Did you get the report?" I asked finally.
"I did," he said without looking. "It was thorough. Sharp. Almost like you wanted to impress me."
I stared ahead. "I didn't write it for you."
His voice dipped. "Didn't you?"
I turned my head then, eyes meeting his. "You're not used to people pushing back, are you?"
"I'm not used to people underestimating me."
"I'm not underestimating you, Damien."
He raised a brow at the use of his name. "No?"
"I'm watching you. That's not the same thing."
The elevator chimed.
The doors opened to the executive floor, and he stepped out first. I followed, heart racing.
Inside his office, I expected tension. Instead, I found silence.
He walked behind his desk, unbuttoned his jacket, and sat down. Calm. Unhurried. Like a man in complete control.
But I wasn't fooled.
He gestured for me to sit. I didn't.
He leaned back in his chair. "Did you get any strange messages last night?"
I froze.
He knew.
"I did," I admitted. "From an unknown number."
"Do you still have them?"
I pulled out my phone, heart thudding, and handed it over. He scrolled through the messages slowly, jaw tightening with each line. Then he stopped at the photo.
His thumb hovered over it.
"Where was this taken from?" I asked.
"My office has security cameras. None of them points toward the desk."
My stomach dropped. "So this wasn't from the company system?"
"No," he said darkly. "Someone installed a private camera without my knowledge. Which means someone breached my office."
The words landed like ice in my bloodstream.
"I'll handle it," he said. "But if you get anything else… threats, photos, anything. Forward it to me immediately."
I nodded slowly. "What do you think they want?"
He looked up at me then. Not the businessman. Not the composed CEO. Something colder.
"They want to rattle you."
"Well," I whispered, "it's working."
He handed my phone back. Our fingers brushed for half a second. His touch was warm. Steady. But his expression was anything but.
"You'll be escorted to and from the office until further notice," he said. "You won't walk to your car alone. You won't stay late. And you won't ignore this."
"And if I do?" I asked.
He looked me dead in the eye.
"Then you're no longer my employee."
I blinked. "You'd fire me for not accepting protection?"
"I'd rather fire you than find out something happened to you."
The silence stretched between us.
"I'm not yours to protect," I said softly.
His jaw clenched. "I know."
But he wanted to. That much was written all over his face.
Just then, his assistant appeared in the doorway.
"Mr. Strickland? Detective Kai Mercer is here to see you."
A detective?
Damien stood. "Send him in."
The man who entered was nothing like I expected. Detective Mercer looked more like a rogue academic than a cop in his early thirties, tan skin, shoulder-length dark hair tied back, sharp cheekbones and an even sharper stare.
He glanced at me, then at Damien.
"I assume this is about the footage," Damien said, wasting no time.
Mercer nodded. "It's serious. Whoever did this didn't just plant a camera. They wiped your internal server after pulling what they needed. We're talking professional-grade breach."
"Any leads?" Damien asked.
Mercer's eyes flicked to me again. "I need to ask Miss Vale a few questions."
I shifted on my feet. "Me?"
"You're the one in the photo. We need to establish if this is harassment, blackmail or something worse."
My pulse quickened. "You think someone inside the company planted it?"
Mercer didn't answer right away.
"We're not ruling anything out."
Damien's gaze darkened. "Get to the point, Detective."
Mercer looked me dead in the eye.
"Have you made any enemies since you started here?"
A dozen faces flashed through my mind. The smug girl from HR. The icy stares from legal. The man from operations who smirked when I passed.
But one face stood out above the rest.
Ava Sterling.
Elegant. Polished. The woman who once held Damien's attention like it was a leash in her hand.
"I don't know yet," I said. "But I have a feeling I will soon."
Mercer gave me a small nod, then turned back to Damien. "We'll dig deeper. But whoever planted that camera they knew exactly what they were doing. And they knew where you'd be."
His words weren't just for Damien.
They were for me.
As the detective left, I caught Damien watching me. There was something behind his eyes I hadn't seen before.
Fear.
Not for himself. For me.
The man who ruled boardrooms like a god was afraid of something. And that made everything feel more real.
More dangerous.
I turned to leave, but his voice stopped me.
"Selene."
I looked back.
"Be careful who you trust."
Damien's voice was low. "Be careful who you trust."
I nodded, about to turn again when his phone lit up on the desk.
He glanced at it.
Then froze.
Just for a second.
But I saw it.
His whole body tensed, like he'd been sucker-punched in the gut.
"What is it?" I asked.
He didn't answer right away. Just turned the screen toward me.
It was a message.
Another photo.
But this one wasn't ours.
It was me.
Sleeping.
In my apartment.
Last night.
My blood turned to ice.
"That's not from your building's security," Damien said, voice low and lethal. "That angle… that's from inside your bedroom."
My legs nearly gave out.
Whoever was watching me… they weren't just close.
They were already inside.