The Revelation

Emma’s heels clicked against the polished marble floors as she hurried through the glass doors of Russo Enterprises. Her pulse quickened when she was immediately called to her boss’s office. Something about the urgency in her co-worker’s tone made her stomach tighten. She couldn’t shake the lingering unease from the morning’s encounter with the arrogant driver. Now, facing the possibility of confronting an irate boss, her nerves were on edge.

She knocked softly, then entered the spacious office, her breath catching in her throat as she saw who was seated behind the imposing desk. Damon Russo—the man who nearly ran her over.

He was lounging in his chair, eyes gleaming with amusement, the same smirk playing on his lips. "Well, well, if it isn’t the woman who tried to dent my car," he drawled. His voice was smooth, but there was an edge to it, a darkness that set Emma on high alert. "You work for me?"

Emma’s mind raced, her heart pounding in her chest. She could barely form the words. "I-I had no idea, Mr. Russo."

Damon’s smirk deepened, his gaze never leaving her. "Of course you didn’t. You wouldn’t be here if you did." He stood up slowly, his tall frame casting a shadow over her. "Let’s just say I don’t take kindly to threats against my property."

Emma swallowed hard. "I didn’t threaten anything…" she muttered under her breath, though she could already feel her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Damon’s sharp eyes flickered, and his voice dropped, low and menacing. "What was that?"

Straightening her posture, Emma forced herself to meet his gaze, her heart thudding in her chest. "Nothing. I’ll be more careful next time."

He leaned forward, his hands resting on the edge of the desk as he loomed closer, his voice dangerously soft. "There won’t be a next time. Not unless you want to find yourself on the wrong side of my world."

The intensity of his words sent a shiver down her spine, but she kept her expression neutral. She wouldn’t let him see how much his words affected her. With a stiff nod, she turned on her heel and walked briskly out of the office, her hands trembling.

As she reached the elevator, her mind was a whirl of confusion and anger. How dare he talk to her like that? Like he owned her, like he could control her life. The nerve of that man.

"Who does he think he is?" she muttered under her breath, glancing around to make sure no one could hear her. "The mafia or something?"

But unbeknownst to her, Damon had followed her to the door, leaning against the frame with an amused grin. Her defiant words, meant only for herself, drifted back to his sharp ears. He smiled to himself, a sinister glint in his eyes as he turned back toward his desk.

"She’s got spirit," Damon mused aloud to Marco, who had been silently watching from the corner. Damon’s smile darkened. "I’ll break that soon enough."

Marco chuckled softly, recognizing that familiar look in Damon’s eyes. "You always did like a challenge, boss."

Damon’s gaze narrowed, the smirk never leaving his face. "And she’s going to be my favorite one yet."

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