Chapter 208: The Devil’s Silent Control

?Ana froze on the pavement, groaning out loud in pure, bitter frustration.

?"Damn it, Damian," she hissed under her breath.

?Of course. The Devil never just attacked his target... he collateralized everyone around them. Damian wouldn’t hesitate for a single second to obliterate Clara’s career, revoke her shares, and blacklist her from every marketing firm on the eastern seaboard just to prove a point. He didn’t care about collateral damage. He didn’t care about the people she loved.

?He only cared about absolute, unconditional submission.

?Swallowing a curse, Ana abandoned the warm lights of the bakery, pivoted on her heel, and marched briskly toward Sterling Tower.

?She had made it barely half a block when the sky violently gave out.

?A deafening crack of thunder shook the pavement, and within half a second, the mist transformed into a torrential, freezing deluge. Sheets of ice-cold water slammed down from the Manhattan canyons, hammering against the concrete in deafening roar.

?"Shit!" Ana yelled, tucking the plastic folder deep against her ribs and breaking into an all-out sprint.

?The wind whipped her dark hair violently across her eyes. She dodged frantic pedestrians diving under awnings, her low designer heels skidding against the slick, pooling sidewalk. It was only two blocks away. Just two blocks.

?Just a few more steps...

?By the time she scrambled up the grand marble stairs of Sterling Tower and pushed through the revolving glass doors, it was far too late.

?The downpour had completely drowned her.

?Her camel wool coat was sodden, black with absorbed water and weighing fifty pounds on her shoulders. Her hair hung in dripping, matted ropes against her pale neck, icy droplets trickling down her collarbone and soaking straight through the ivory knit dress beneath. A puddle was already pooling around her ruined shoes on the polished travertine floor.

?"I look like a drowned rat," Ana groaned, shivering violently as she lifted her dripping bangs from her forehead.

?She took two steps forward onto the grand lobby floor... and stopped dead.

?The breath seized in her throat.

?Standing in the dead center of the cavernous, vaulted entrance, utterly ignoring the security guards and terrified receptionists frozen at their desks, was Damian.

?He wasn’t on the sixty-fourth floor. He was right here.

?He hadn’t bothered with an overcoat; his tailored black suit was immaculate, framing his towering, broad-shouldered physique against the cold lobby marble. His arms were folded tightly across his chest, the posture so rigid, so suffocatingly dominant, that it seemed to absorb all the light in the room.

?And his face...

?Ana’s stomach dropped straight into a bottomless, icy pit.

?He wasn’t merely angry. He was beyond furious. His jaw was set like a block of carved granite, a thick, dangerous vein pulsing along the side of his neck. His obsidian eyes, shadowed beneath a lethal, hooded scowl, were locked dead onto her shivering, soaked figure with a terrifying, unblinking stillness.

?There was no mocking smirk. No cynical corporate remarks. Just a raw, volcanic silence that promised pure, inescapable retribution.

?Ana slowly swallowed, her throat bone-dry despite the water dripping down her chin.

?Her little game of defiance was over. And there was nowhere left to run.

*************

The grand marble lobby of Sterling Global had frozen into a tomb.

?Rainwater dripped from the sodden hem of Anastasia’s coat, ticking loudly against the polished travertine floor. Every eye behind the circular reception desks was glued to the carpet, terrified to breathe.

?Damian didn’t say a single word.

?He didn’t shout. He didn’t demand an explanation.

?He simply unfolded his arms, closed the distance between them with slow, terrifying strides, and clamped his large, iron fingers around her wrist.

?Ana gasped at the harsh heat of his grip against her freezing skin, but before she could utter a single protest, he spun on his heel and dragged her toward the private executive elevator bank.

?The security guards scrambled backward, clearing a wide path. The bronze doors of the express lift were already held open, guarded by a pale, silent Henry. Damian stepped inside, hauling Anastasia in behind him with a single, effortless tug.

?The heavy doors slid shut, sealing out the whispers of the ground floor.

?Inside the ascending lift, the silence was deafening. Soaring past thirty, forty, fifty floors in a rush of pneumatic wind. Damian stood with his back to her, staring straight ahead at the polished bronze doors, his knuckles stark white where he still held her wrist captive.

?Ding.

?The top floor arrived.

?The double doors parted onto the sixty-fourth floor, revealing the dimly lit expanse of his personal executive suite.

?Damian pulled her across the threshold and released her arm with an abrupt, dismissive flick of his hand. "Damian..."

?The heavy, soundproof double doors clicked shut behind them, locking them into an airtight vacuum.

?Outside the panoramic windows, the New York sky rumbled violently, bruised with deep charcoal clouds as sheets of torrential rain hammered against the reinforced panes.

"You just never listen like a human being... I gotta go back to my old ways, I see."

?Damian walked past her without a backward glance. He rounded the massive mahogany desk and dropped down into his high-backed leather chair, leaning back like a ruthless king returning to his throne. The crisp lines of his tailored suit and the cold, unyielding shadow over his features only emphasized his untouchable power.

?He planted both elbows on the leather blotter, steepled his fingers, and lifted his obsidian gaze.

?"Strip."

?The demand cut through the heavy silence of the room, sharp and unyielding.

?Anastasia frowned, her heart seizing violently in her chest. A violent shiver racked her frame under the terrifying intensity of his dark gaze.

?"What did you just say?"

?"Doll, don’t make me repeat myself."

?Damian’s eyes dropped, dragging slowly down her dripping wet body. He tracked every drop of rainwater soaking through her white blouse beneath the soaked camel coat... the expensive silk blouse he had personally bought for her.

?"Unless you prefer me to peel the fabric off your flush skin myself?"

?Anastasia gulped.

?The memory of his heavy, unforgiving hands had unclipped her buttons one by one, leaving her exposed on the edge of his desk, his bed, every corner of his house... made her stomach flip with sudden, dizzying panic and anticipation.

?She shook her head quickly. "I’ll do it myself."

?Damian’s lips curved into a slow, contented smile.

?"That’s my good, obedient pet."

?He watched her standing meekly before him, shivering and utterly embarrassed. A surge of dark pleasure filled his chest. He loved seeing her like this... stripped of her defiant corporate mask, completely under his control.

?"Walk closer," he commanded, his voice dropping an octave into a low, velvet rasp. "With each piece of clothing you strip off... walk to me. Until you stand with absolutely nothing left to cover yourself."