Bound By The Billionaire’s Deal

Valerie’s POV

The silence in the car was deafening the second Maya’s apartment building disappeared behind us.

Without Maya’s constant stream of consciousness filling the cabin, the air felt ridiculously thick, filled only by the low hum of the engine and the faint, woodsy scent of Damon’s expensive cologne.

I sank back against the leather seat, staring out the window as we glided through the West Loop. Every few seconds, I felt it, a subtle shift in the air, the unmistakable weight of his gaze.

Whenever I dared to glance at the rearview mirror, Damon was already looking at me. He wasn’t even trying to hide it. His icy blue eyes held mine for a beat, cool and calculating, before returning to the road.

It felt like he wanted to say something, but his reputation preceded him. Damon Blackwood was a wall of cold, untouchable steel. If corporate rumors were anything to go by, he didn’t do casual conversation, and he certainly didn’t do small talk.

“Take a left at the next light on Fulton,” I said, my voice cutting through the quiet cabin.

Damon smoothly signaled, sweeping the Maybach onto my street before bringing it to a stop outside my apartment building.

It wasn’t a sleek glass high-rise or some ridiculous luxury penthouse. My West Loop apartment was modest, comfortable, and completely funded by my own salary, a place I’d rented specifically so I wouldn’t have to live under my stepmother’s roof.

“Here we are,” I murmured, unbuckling my seatbelt and reaching for the door handle.

Before my fingers could even touch the latch, the driver-side door opened.

I blinked, watching through the dark glass as Damon stepped out into the misty night. He walked around the hood with long, deliberate strides, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he reached the back door and pulled it open for me.

My breath hitched in my throat. I just stared at him for a second, thoroughly thrown off.

Is this actually happening?

This was the same man corporate legend painted as a ruthless, unfeeling mons. A billionaire CEO who supposedly fired department heads over miscalculated decimals and was allegedly incapable of maintaining a romantic relationship because he ran his personal life like a hostile takeover.

Yet here he was, holding open a car door for a low-level analyst. For me!!.

“Thank you,” I said, stepping onto the wet pavement.

My red dress was still damp, clinging to my frame as the cool night breeze brushed against my skin.

Damon stood tall beside me, easily towering over me at six-foot-three, his broad shoulders blocking out the yellow streetlights behind him.

He didn't immediately step back. His icy gaze lingered on my face, dropping to my lips for a split second before returning to my eyes

“I hope you don’t spend the rest of the night overthinking a scumbag,” Damon said softly, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that vibrated straight through me. “You deserve significantly better than what happened back there.”

My jaw almost dropped. My heart did a sudden, violent flip in my chest. Is Damon Blackwood actually flirting with me?

I forced myself to swallow, squeezing my clutch so tightly my knuckles turned white.

“I….. thank you. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Valerie.”

Hearing my name roll off his tongue in that deep, velvet tone sent an electric surge straight down my spine.

I turned sharply on my heel and hurried toward the lobby doors. But even as I pulled out my key fob, I could feel his eyes on me, following me until I disappeared inside.

I practically sprinted into the elevator and rested my forehead against the cool metallic wall as the doors slid shut.

The second I stepped inside my apartment, I kicked off my soaked heels, locked the deadbolt, and unhooked my bra, ripping it off with a heavy sigh of relief. The underwire had been digging into my ribs for hours.

I walked straight into the bathroom, stripped off my dress, and stepped beneath a scalding-hot shower.

The water hit my skin, washing away the smell of smoke, cheap alcohol, and rain.

Standing beneath the stream with my hands braced against the wet tile, a single hot tear slipped down my cheek. I scrubbed angrily at my face and let out a shaky breath.

It wasn't just about Gavin cheating. It was the absolute waste of three years. My father had trusted Gavin. Before Dad passed away, he’d literally given Gavin a job at Sinclair Dynamics, shaking his hand and giving us his blessing. I had genuinely thought Gavin was my future, the one stable thing left in my chaotic life. And in less than ten minutes, it had all turned out to be a pathetic, humiliating lie.

I shut off the water, wrapped myself in a plush towel, and slipped into a silk nightie.

Tumbling onto my bed, my phone buzzed. I picked it up. Three unread messages from Gavin, Two from Maya.

I swiped past Gavin’s name without a second thought, ignoring the pathetic Val, please let me explain preview, and opened Maya’s chat.

Maya: GIRL. I am in my apartment staring at my dry-cleaned carpet. I STILL CANNOT BELIEVE THE DAMON BLACKWOOD DROPPED US OFF.

Maya: Give me an update right now. Did he follow you inside?? Did you guys make out in the Maybach?? TELL ME.

I snorted, my thumb flying across the keyboard.

Me: No, Maya. He opened my door, said goodnight, and drove away. Nothing happened, okay?

Maya: Boringgg! What a wasted opportunity for revenge dick.

A laugh burst out of me, heavy and tired.

Maya: In all seriousness though… fuck Gavin. And double fuck Chloe. Don’t waste your tears on that spineless bitch. You’re that girl, Val. I’m here whenever you need me. Ride or die.

Me: Love you. Thanks for tonight, seriously.

I plugged my phone into the charger, tossed it onto the nightstand, and collapsed against the pillows.

My mind drifted right back to Damon. His sharp jaw, the way his dark suit fit his broad frame, the intense, dangerous look in his eyes in the rearview mirror.….. I shuddered, pulling the duvet over my shoulders. God, I hope he doesn't recognize me at the office.

The odds were low. Blackwood HQ had over two thousand employees. I was a Marketing Analyst on floor fifteen; he inhabited the cold, god-like ether of the 60th-floor executive suite. We lived in completely different universes. I’d barely ever seen him in person before tonight, so there was no reason our paths would ever cross again.

I let out a long breath, finally letting exhaustion take over, and drifted into a heavy, dreamless sleep.

~~The next morning, a pounding ache throbbed behind my eyes as my alarm went off.

I groaned, rolling over to hit snooze, but the loud ding of an incoming priority email shattered the silence. I dragged my phone to my face, squinting through the morning sunlight filtering into my bedroom.

The sender made my stomach drop- Vance & Associates. My stepmother’s lawyers. I opened the email.

I barely made it past the subject line before the remnants of sleep vanished completely.

Emergency Board Meeting — Sinclair Dynamics.

My eyes raced over the details beneath it.

Saturday, Noon, Sinclair Dynamics headquarters.

And the words Estate Trust Audit & Executive Board Restructuring jumped out at me.

I sat upright so quickly the room spun. An emergency board meeting? Today?

My pulse began hammering against my ribs as I reread the notification, searching for some explanation that wasn’t there. The fog in my head disappeared, replaced by a surge of cold adrenaline.

I stared at the screen, my fingers tightening around my phone.

“What the fuck is she up to now?” I whispered to the empty room.