Elena POV
The black dress clung to my body like a second skin. It was tight, expensive, and far too revealing for someone who was supposed to be just an assistant. Damien had sent it to my apartment with a single command: Wear this. Be ready at 8. No excuses.
I hated how good it made me feel. The way the silk cupped my breasts and skimmed over my hips. I hated it even more because I knew exactly why he had chosen it.
The gala was in full swing when we arrived. Crystal chandeliers poured light over hundreds of the city’s elite: politicians, CEOs, and old money predators. Damien’s hand rested possessively on my lower back as we moved through the crowd. His touch burned through the thin fabric. His fiancée was conveniently out of the country for some charity event. Of course she was.
“You
