Terms and conditions
Elena’s POV:
His words still echoed in the gigantic office
“Let’s burn your ex alive”
The handshake still lingered on my skin—firm, commanding, as if Damien Cross had already branded me his and this gave me goosebumps on my skin. My pulse still thundered in my ears, equal parts of fear and jubilation. The voices in my head are telling me to stop that am entering into the lion’s den but I cannot seem to stop, one part of me wants to stop, and turn back but the other part wants revenge, and the anger in me can't let me back down, but now I will do whatever it takes to bring Ethan and Selena down.
I drew in a trembling breath, willing my voice to steady. “So… what now?”
Damien's dark gaze lingered on me as though he was dissecting what I was thinking and this gave me goosebumps.Then, with deliberate slowness, he released my hand and leaned back in his chair.
His dark aura filled the room so completely that it made me feel a shiver run down my spine, but not weak—like I was standing at the edge of a cliff again, except this time I had the choice to jump or walk away.
“What now,” he repeated, his tone silk wrapped around steel.
“Now, Miss Mendez, you learn exactly what it means to sign a contract with me.”
The way he said it—with me—wasn’t just about business. It was a warning, maybe even a threat and this gave me goosebumps on my skin.
He reached into a drawer, pulled out a sleek black folder, and slid it across the desk toward me. My fingers hovered over it before I dared to touch it. Inside were crisp, printed pages, each section stamped with his company’s emblem: Cross Enterprises.
“Your employment contract,” Damien said, almost lazily, but his eyes missed nothing.
“You’ll find it outlines the terms I mentioned. Living arrangements, boundaries, and duration. One year.”
I flipped the first page, scanning the cold legal jargon. It was all there in black and white:
Residence: The client—meaning me—would be relocated to Damien Cross’s private estate for the duration of twelve months.
Personal Boundaries: Explicitly no physical intimacy, no trespassing into personal quarters, no touching personal belongings. A sharp pang shot through me at the casual cruelty of line two. No falling in love. Did he really think I was so weak?
Employment: Full-time executive assistant at Cross Enterprises, shadowing Damien himself.
“You’ve already had this prepared.” ,I lifted my gaze and asked
His lips curved. “I make a habit of anticipating opportunities.”
It was surprising, a lot of questions ran through my head,”how did he know I would come to Him?, and what does he really want from me ?”.
A shiver rolled down my spine at the thought of these questions.
He was dangerous—not just in the way Ethan had been, all charm and manipulation, but in the way of someone who didn’t bluff.
Damien Cross didn’t hope things would fall into place; he engineered them and make sure everything works according to his will.
“Why me?” I blurted before I could stop myself.
For the briefest moment, something flickered in his eyes, but then it was gone.
He steepled his fingers. “Because Ethan trusts you. Because you know his weaknesses. Because putting you at my side is the surest way to destabilize him.”
“And if I fail?”
His smile was slow, cutting. “You won’t. I don’t allow failure.”
It wasn’t arrogance—it was fact.
And my hunger for revenge won’t let me allow myself to fail. I will bring them down no matter what happens
I tried to hide the shaking of my hands as I signed the final page. My name looked strange there, elegant and small beside Damien Cross’s bold signature. It was like binding myself to a shadow, one I couldn’t escape or run from.
He took the papers back, slipped them neatly into the folder, and locked them away. Then he rose from behind the desk.
Damien Cross in motion was a different kind of threat. He didn’t simply walk; he prowled, fluid and certain, like every step was calculated. He stopped in front of me, and though we were nearly the same height in my heels, he somehow towered over me.
“You start tomorrow,” he said. “Be at my estate by seven. A car will pick you up.”
The casual command sent my stomach flipping. “And if I’m late?”
He smirked, tilting his head just slightly. “Then I’ll know you aren’t serious. And our little contract will become very… unpleasant.”
I didn’t ask what unpleasant meant. Something in me told me I didn’t want to know.
I swallowed hard, forcing my chin up. “I’ll be there.”
His eyes lingered on me for one heartbeat longer than necessary, as if he were testing the truth of my words. Then he gave a single nod, dismissing me like a king dismissing a knight.
I turned, my ruined gown dragging against the polished floor, the storm outside still raging. But just as my hand touched the door, his voice cut through the silence again.
“Miss Mendez.”
I froze, pulse hammering.
When I looked back, his gaze was locked on mine, sharp enough to pierce straight through me.
“Don’t mistake the ground rules for safety. They’re boundaries, not protections. If you cross me, you won’t need Ethan to destroy you.”
The warning thrummed through me like electricity.
I nodded once, mute, then slipped into the storm.
The next morning
The car waiting outside the hotel I stayed last night gleamed like a polished bullet, all sleek lines and tinted glass. A driver in a black suit opened the door without a word, and suddenly I was being whisked across the city, leaving behind the wreckage of yesterday’s life.
Damien Cross’s estate was nothing like I expected. It wasn’t a mansion of gaudy wealth but a fortress of steel and glass, perched on a rise that overlooked the city like a predator watching its prey.
Inside, it was all sharp angles, muted tones, and understated luxury that was beyond my family’s kind of luxury. Every detail screamed control and power.
A maid greeted me and showed me to my quarters—spacious, pristine, and impersonal.
A single rule sheet sat neatly on the dresser.
Three lines. The same ground rules again, printed in Damien’s hand.
As if I could forget.
By the time I reached his office within the estate, my nerves were frayed. Damien sat at a long conference table, already surrounded by his assistants, his presence dominating the space. Conversations hushed the moment I entered.
He didn’t rise, didn’t smile. He simply gestured to the seat beside him.
I sat, spine straight, ignoring the stares of his staff.
“This,” Damien said without looking at me, “is your battlefield. Every file, every meeting, every detail you’ll be exposed to has the power to build or break empires. Pay attention, Elena. Ethan will come for you soon. When he does, you’ll need more than anger. You’ll need precision.”
The way he called my name gave me goosebumps but still my heart flutters with the way he called my name.
I inhaled slowly, the weight of the challenge settling on me like armor. This was it—the start of the war.
And as Damien Cross’s sharp eyes flicked toward me, a glimmer of intrigue in their depths, I realized something chilling.
Ethan had broken me once. But Damien? Damien Cross had the power to remake me into something else entirely.
Not his bride. Not his pawn.
But his weapon of mass destruction.