In Bed with My Fiancé's Enemy

Brielle Sterling stepped out into the carpeted hallway of the executive quarters, her body aching from the lingering weight of the sedatives.

"If you so much as slip up on this floor, I am going to make your life an absolute nightmare," Selina Whitlock growled, wheeling around to face her. "If I am going to take the heat from Mr. Blackridge, I might as well earn it. If I hadn't stepped up, he would have assigned some ruthless security officer to track your every breath."

Any lingering hope Brielle had of finding a real ally in Selina vanished instantly.

Brielle hurried her steps to keep up with Selina's long stride. Selina was tall, commanding, and impeccably posture-perfect, making Brielle feel small and fragile in her loose hospital gown.

"I am sorry," Brielle murmured, catching up to her near the elevator bank. "I did not mean to drag you into his leverage traps. I promise I will not do anything to get you terminated."

Selina’s expression softened slightly as she looked down at Brielle’s bruised skin and bare feet. "We need to get you proper attire from the corporate liaison immediately."

Brielle’s face flushed red as she clutched the thin gown around herself. It was humiliating. If Damian Blackridge had simply left her contract alone, she wouldn't be standing here as a corporate captive.

Selina let out a cold smirk. "If you ask me, Chairman Blackridge is showing an unusual interest in you. If any other analyst had launched a physical attack on him in the boardroom last night, they would be blacklisted from the sector and facing federal charges."

"I despise him," Brielle gritted out.

Selina stopped dead, grabbing Brielle’s shoulders with sudden, rigid intensity. "Shut your mouth. Saying something like that on this floor is career suicide. And I am the one holding the liability contract, remember?"

Brielle’s shoulders sagged under the weight of it all. "Then why doesn't he just sever my contract and cast me out?"

She wiped away a hot tear before it could fall.

Selina stared at her, her eyes narrowing as she pieced together the desperate raw energy Brielle had brought into Damian's office.

"You wanted to get discarded," Selina gasped quietly. "You tried to provoke him into ruining you completely so you could walk away from the business world entirely."

Brielle stayed silent.

Selina wrapped an arm around her shoulder, loosening her grip when Brielle winced. "Look, Sterling. Blackridge Global is brutal, but it isn't the absolute hellhole Kingswell Group was."

That was easy for Selina to say. Selina was an ambitious strategic analyst who had requested a transfer to move up the ladder. She wasn't an asset traded off to settle corporate debt.

The other transfers were high-performing executives ready to climb Damian's ladder. Brielle was just a walking liability, stripped of her equity, stripped of her engagement, and stripped of her leverage.

Now she couldn't even resign or walk away, because doing so would trigger Damian's wrath against her brother and collapse Kingswell Group on top of her friends.

"I am not a corporate climber like you," Brielle muttered. "I do not have that cold ruthlessness in me."

"Everyone has it in them when the stakes are high enough," Selina replied sharply. "Just because Theodore Kingswell kept you tucked away in support roles doesn't mean you lack sharp instincts."

Selina led her down to the administrative wing, where senior staff members were moving between glass offices, executing high-volume trades. Conversations died down instantly as the two of them walked past. Brielle kept her chin down, her skin hot under their staring eyes.

Ignoring the glances, Selina pushed open the heavy double doors of the executive wardrobe department. Inside, an older woman with sharp eyes and immaculate tailoring was issuing security badges and corporate attire.

This was the director of executive administration. She looked Brielle up and down with cold, calculating eyes.

"The Chairman ordered complete business attire for Miss Sterling," Selina stated smoothly. "Can you handle that immediately?"

The administrator raised an eyebrow, clearly aware of the morning's drama in the Chairman's office. "The Chairman's new transfer? She is tiny. But I have tailored samples from the junior executive line that should fit."

She pulled a rack of high-end garments forward, laying out structured silk blouses, tailored trousers, and sharp blazers. "Nightwear, day wear, and high-stakes presentation suits."

She scoffed slightly at the presentation suits, as if convinced Brielle would never last long enough to pitch to a board.

Brielle took the clothes into her arms, her fingers tightening on the expensive fabric. In her early years at Kingswell Group, she had tried to pitch high-yield portfolio strategies, only for Kieran Ashcroft to take her files, present them under his own name, and push her back into administrative support.

When she had tried to confront Kieran in front of Chairman Theodore Kingswell back then, Kieran had simply laughed, telling her that female analysts were too emotional to manage real capital.

Before Brielle could spiral further into bitter memories, Selina led her out of the department and up the private lift to the residential floor reserved for transferred executives.

The hallway was lined with sleek, door-coded suites.

Selina opened the door to Suite 402, revealing a spacious, modern two-bedroom executive layout.

"That room is yours," Selina said, pointing to the door on the left. "Take a shower and change into the suit. Then I am taking you down to the main executive dining hall."

Brielle froze, absolute dread pooling in her stomach. "The main hall? I would rather stay in this room."

"Chairman's orders," Selina said, rolling her eyes. "The Chairman is hosting a welcome dinner for the incoming transfer class tonight. Every senior partner will be there. That includes you."

Brielle’s pulse hammered frantically against her ribs. Facing Damian Blackridge in front of his entire executive board was going to be a complete nightmare.