Owned By The Enemy

Chapter 1 - The Room Where He Waited

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, and Ariana Cole stepped onto the marble floor of Voss Industries' top floor - heels clicking like a countdown against the silence.

The email came late last night. No warning, no explanation. Just a sterile message from HR: "Report to Conference Room A, 9:00 a.m. sharp. Top floor."

She had told herself this was a promotion. A transfer. Maybe even a reward for three years of loyal service. But the way her stomach twisted said otherwise.

Everything here felt too polished, too quiet. As if the walls were listening.

She smoothed her hands over her navy dress, checked the time on her phone - 8:59 a.m. - and took a deep breath.

"You've got this," she muttered, stepping forward.

The glass doors loomed ahead, glossy and spotless, the kind that whispered power with every inch. She reached for the handle and paused, just for a second.

Then she walked in.

Eight men in dark suits turned to look at her. But she didn't see them.

She only saw him.

Damien Voss.

The man who had shattered her world five years ago now stood at the head of the table, calm and composed, as if he hadn't ghosted her like she never mattered.

Her breath caught.

Her world tilted.

His name hadn't crossed her lips in years - not because she forgot, but because it hurt too much to remember.

Tall, sharp-jawed, and dressed in tailored charcoal, he looked like every woman's dangerous fantasy and every man's silent warning. The boy she once loved was gone - replaced by something far colder.

Damien's eyes met hers. No flicker of surprise. No warmth.

Only steel.

"Miss Cole," he said, voice smooth and low, the same voice that used to whisper promises against her skin. "You're late."

She blinked. The wall clock behind him ticked to 9:01.

"One minute," she said, her voice steady, though her legs felt like paper. "Apologies."

He gestured to the empty seat across from him. "Take a seat."

She walked to the table, spine straight, chin high - refusing to let him see the chaos unraveling inside her. She sat, smoothing her dress over trembling thighs.

The meeting began. Charts. Forecasts. Mergers. She barely heard a word.

Her focus stayed locked on the man across from her, the one who had once known every inch of her heart - and then vanished without warning. No text. No goodbye. Just... gone.

Now here he was. Bigger. Colder. Richer.

And apparently, her boss.

He barely spoke during the meeting, but when he did, people listened. Ariana could see it - the fear in their eyes, the respect in their silence. Damien had climbed high, and he'd done it alone.

Except she remembered a time when he didn't want to be alone.

When he'd whispered forever into her neck.

When he had loved her - or at least, pretended to.

She tried not to stare. But every time her gaze flicked to him, he was already watching her. Not openly. Just enough to make her skin prickle. To make her feel seen in a way that burned.

Why is he here?

Why didn't I know he owned this company?

And why now?

When the meeting finally ended, chairs scraped and murmurs filled the room. People gathered their files. Ariana stood, eager to flee.

"Miss Cole," Damien said, not looking up from the papers he was signing. "Stay."

Her heart dropped.

She froze mid-step. Around her, the room slowly emptied.

When the door clicked shut behind the last executive, silence fell like a curtain.

She turned to face him. "What is this, Damien?"

He didn't look up. "Sit down."

"I'd rather stand."

He lifted his eyes. "That wasn't a request."

Something inside her snapped. "You don't get to order me around."

"Oh, but I do," he said softly, his voice like poison wrapped in silk. "Sit, Ariana. Unless you want to have this conversation somewhere less... professional."

She sat. Rigid. Cold.

He moved around the table slowly, the way you'd circle a threat - or prey.

"You had no idea I owned Voss Industries?" he asked, hands in his pockets.

"No," she said. "I didn't."

"Strange," he said. "You used to know everything about me."

"You used to be someone worth knowing."

A flicker of something passed through his eyes - maybe hurt, maybe rage - but it vanished before she could name it.

He placed a thick folder on the table and pushed it toward her.

Her name was printed in bold at the top: Ariana Cole - Employment Agreement.

"You're being reassigned," Damien said. "Effective immediately."

She opened it. Her hands shook.

"You want me to be... your assistant?"

"Executive liaison," he corrected. "Reporting directly to me."

"Absolutely not."

"It's already approved."

She flipped to the back page - her signature. Her real one. Scanned.

"How-?"

"You signed a general consent clause in your original contract. It allows reassignment at executive discretion." His smile was pure venom. "I happen to be that executive."

Her mouth went dry. "You planned this."

He leaned down, face inches from hers, voice a whisper laced with promise and threat.

"I waited five years for this, Ariana. You left me bleeding. You think I'd forget?"

She shot to her feet, anger rising to shield her heart. "You're insane."

"No," he said. "I'm patient. And now, I'm in control."

She tried to storm past him. He stepped in front of the door.

"You'll report to me at 8 a.m. sharp. Office 72B. Bring nothing but your pride - I plan to strip that too."

And with that, Damien opened the door.

Ariana walked out without looking back.

But her heart knew the truth:

She was already trapped.

And Damien Voss?

He was just getting started.