Chapter 3

QUIN’S POV

The tension from the morning lobby still hung thick in the air.

After Damon nearly dragged me into his office, cutting off Lucian mid-sentence with absolute authority, the atmosphere between us tensed even further. He had leaned over me by the wall, his jealous ultimatum still ringing in my ears, before stepping back behind his desk as if nothing had happened. He dismissed me with a nod, but the unspoken claim was already made.

Two hours later, I was back at my desk when a private courier dropped off a black box tied with a red satin ribbon.

I stared at it for a while. I hadn't purchased anything, so where was this coming from? My fingers finally summoned the courage to lift the heavy lid. Resting against the dark velvet were two things: an encrypted keycard to a private penthouse suite in the North Tower, and a luxurious gold necklace bearing a single diamond. Beside it lay a note in Damon's clear, commanding handwriting: “Your new residence is at the penthouse now. Wear the necklace to this evening's corporate benefit banquet.”

My stomach dropped, knotting tightly. This time, he wasn't just paying for my discretion. With his father publicly demanding his engagement to Kimberly Smith, Damon was trying to elevate my position. He was trying to buy my compliance and turn me into his secret, kept mistress.

I took several deep breaths to calm my rising anger, gently closed the box, picked it up, and walked straight into his office without knocking.

Damon didn't look up immediately. His fingers stiffened on his fountain pen as he signed a document, his intimidating frame bent over the desk before he finally leaned back in his chair. His dark eyes locked onto mine, completely unfazed by my sudden entry.

“Miss Quin, this is an office. Do I need to remind you how to enter an executive room?” he asked coldly, swiveling in his chair.

“I can't accept this,” I said hotly, placing the box on the mahogany table. Hot tears stung my eyes, and I blinked several times to keep them from escaping.

Damon raised an eyebrow, his expression an impassive mask. “This is not up for negotiation, Quin. The shuttle from your apartment is becoming a disruption to my schedule. Your relocation to the North Tower removes that lag.”

“My apartment is twenty-five minutes away, Mr. Frederick,” I replied, my voice steady despite the rapid pounding of my heart. “My living arrangements were never part of my employment contract. Neither are these new arrangements.” I motioned toward the necklace.

“You are my representative,” he said smoothly, standing up and stepping around the desk to stand directly in front of me.

The butterflies in my stomach fluttered due to how close he was to me. I took a step backward, creating distance between us.

“When you attend events at my side, you will wear whatever I provide. This is an order, Quin.”

“This is a breach of the boundaries we agreed on eleven months ago,” I argued, taking a deep breath. “The rules were: work stays work, business is public, and pleasure is private. But every extravagant gift feels less like a demonstration of affection and more like multiple tiny threads tying me down. I am your secretary and your secret companion, Damon. I am not your property—you don't own my freedom.”

“I won't be tucked away in a private tower as your kept mistress while you go ahead to marry Kimberly!”

The temperature in the room suddenly dropped. Damon stepped forward, closing the distance between us. He reached down, his fingers holding my chin firmly, forcing my eyes to stay locked on his.

Beads of perspiration formed on my forehead. The room suddenly felt hot even though the air conditioning was on full blast.

“You think this is about property?” he rasped, his hot breath fanning my skin. “You are pulling away from me, Quin. This is about access. I saw the way you stepped back the minute the sun came up, the way you looked at the clock, like you wanted to get far away from me. And I saw the way you smiled at Lucian this morning.”

His thumb traced my lower lip, sending a wave of heat through my body. I hated how easily his touch shattered my defense.

“I am abiding by the rules to keep our arrangement strictly professional,” I whispered, my voice breaking as his gaze on my lips intensified.

“There was nothing professional about the way you clung to me last night,” he mocked, his grip on my chin softening as his hand moved down to my neck. He leaned closer, his chest almost crushing mine. “The rules are changing, Quin. A new arrangement has been made. Starting today, your evenings belong to me. No more running back to your apartment. No more excuses.”

“And if I refuse to abide by this new rule?” I challenged, folding my arms across my chest.

Damon's lips brushed against the crook of my neck, sending a sharp shiver down my spine. “You can't,” he whispered, his voice a grim command. “Because deep down, you know you are already mine. You belong to me.”