Chapter 4 - The Signing Bonus
“I am not a contract killer, and I am not a drug mule,” Harper spat, her chest heaving. “So whatever twisted promotion you have in mind, you can shove it.”
Damian actually smiled—a small, dark curve of his lips that sent a dangerous shiver down Harper’s spine. “Your imagination is vivid, Harper. But I don't need a killer. I have plenty of those. I need a personal assistant for my legitimate corporate holdings at Blackwood Enterprises.”
Harper stared at him in disbelief. “An assistant? I pour coffee and scrape gum off tables. I don't know how to run a billionaire's schedule.”
“You are observant, you don't panic under pressure, and you cannot be bought by my rivals,” Damian stated, walking behind the counter to pour himself a cup of coffee. “Yesterday, you turned down a million dollars. That makes you the most trustworthy person in this city. You will manage my calendar, vet my appointments, and organize my legitimate fronts.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then the bank forecloses on your apartment on Friday, as scheduled.” Damian took a sip of the bitter coffee, grimacing slightly. “However, if you accept, your starting salary is five hundred thousand dollars a year. Full medical benefits for you and your brother. And a signing bonus.”
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a manila envelope, tossing it onto the counter.
Harper hesitated, then slowly opened the clasp. Inside was the deed to her apartment building. Not just her unit—the entire building. Paid in full, registered in her name. Beneath it was a receipt for a five-year supply of Leo’s specific insulin, already delivered to a refrigerated lockbox at a private pharmacy.
Tears of absolute fury and overwhelming relief prickled her eyes. He had trapped her perfectly. He hadn't used a cage of iron; he had used a cage of salvation.
“Why?” she whispered, staring at the deed. “Why go to all this trouble for a bartender who insulted you?”
“Because,” Damian said, stepping close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from him, “I am not used to people walking away from me. I want to see what happens when you stay.”
May you like
Harper looked up into his stormy eyes. She was playing with fire, and they both knew it. “Fine,” she said, her voice steady. “I accept. But I still won’t fetch your dry cleaning.”
Damian chuckled, a rich, dark sound. “We’ll see about that, Miss Quinn. Be at the Blackwood Tower tomorrow at eight A.M. Don't be late.”
