Chapter three

Chapter Three

The Billionaire’s Secret Obsession

The sleek black car moved smoothly through the city streets, its tinted windows shielding Emma from the world outside. A quiet hum filled the air as the driver, a stone-faced man in a crisp black suit, maneuvered through traffic without a single wasted movement.

Emma sat stiffly in the plush leather seat, hands clasped tightly in her lap. The moment she had stepped into the car, she had felt it—an invisible line she had just crossed. There was no turning back now.

She exhaled sharply and glanced at the man beside her. He had introduced himself as Hale, Damian Wolfe’s personal driver and, from what she could gather, someone far more than just a chauffeur. There was an air of quiet authority about him, a sharpness in his gaze that made it clear he was no ordinary employee.

"Are you always this quiet?" Emma asked, desperate to break the suffocating silence.

Hale flicked a glance at her in the rearview mirror. "When necessary."

Not much of a talker, then.

Emma sighed and turned her attention to the city lights flashing by. She had no idea where she was being taken, and that realization sent a fresh wave of anxiety rolling through her.

"You’re taking me to meet Mr. Wolfe, right?" she asked cautiously.

"Yes," Hale answered simply.

"Where exactly?"

Silence.

Emma clenched her fists. "You do realize this is giving off major kidnapper vibes, right?"

For a brief second, Hale’s lips twitched, but he didn’t respond.

Great. She was being driven to an unknown location by a man who looked like he could break someone in half without blinking.

Why had she agreed to this?

As if on cue, her phone buzzed in her lap. She snatched it up, her heart pounding as she saw the name on the screen.

Lisa.

Her fingers hovered over the answer button, but before she could press it, the phone suddenly went dark.

The screen shut off completely.

"What the—" She pressed the power button repeatedly. Nothing. The phone was dead.

Her stomach dropped.

"You disabled my phone?" she asked, her voice rising.

"It’s a security measure," Hale said smoothly. "You’ll get it back once we arrive."

Emma’s pulse pounded in her ears. "That’s not creepy at all."

Hale didn’t react.

A cold realization settled in her gut. This wasn’t just a job interview. This was something else.

And she was trapped.

—

The car pulled up to a towering skyscraper in the heart of Manhattan. Emma recognized it immediately—Wolfe Tower.

Damian Wolfe’s empire.

Her breath hitched as the doors automatically unlocked. Hale stepped out first and opened the door for her. Emma hesitated for only a second before following him.

The moment her feet touched the pavement, the cold night air hit her, sending a shiver down her spine.

"This way," Hale said, leading her toward a private entrance.

Emma’s gaze darted around, taking in the darkened lobby. It was eerily empty—no receptionists, no security guards in sight. Only the dim glow of the overhead lights and the soft hum of the elevator waiting ahead.

Her instincts screamed at her to run.

But before she could move, the elevator doors slid open.

And Damian Wolfe stepped out.

—

He was even more intimidating up close.

Dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, Damian carried himself with effortless power. His presence filled the space, making it hard to breathe, hard to think.

Emma swallowed hard, forcing herself to meet his gaze.

"Miss Hayes," he said smoothly. "Right on time."

Her fingers curled into fists at her sides. "I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?"

His lips twitched, as if her defiance amused him. "Everyone has a choice, Emma."

She ignored the way her name sounded on his lips and lifted her chin. "Then why does this feel like a trap?"

A shadow crossed Damian’s expression, but it was gone just as quickly.

"Come," he said, turning toward the elevator. "Let’s talk."

She hesitated.

This was it. The moment she had to decide whether to go deeper into his world… or walk away.

Everything in her screamed that Damian Wolfe was dangerous. That stepping into that elevator meant stepping into something she couldn’t escape.

And yet… she followed him inside.

—

The elevator ride was silent.

Damian stood beside her, close but not touching, his presence a suffocating force. Emma kept her gaze locked on the digital floor numbers ticking higher and higher.

When the doors finally slid open, she was met with an unexpected sight.

A penthouse.

It was sleek and modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the glittering city below. The decor was minimalist yet luxurious, with dark furniture and soft lighting casting shadows across the space.

Emma hesitated at the threshold.

"You live here?" she asked.

"Sometimes," Damian said, stepping inside.

She followed reluctantly, her heels clicking against the polished marble floor.

"Drink?" he offered, pouring himself a glass of whiskey from a crystal decanter.

Emma shook her head. "No, thanks. I’d rather get to the point."

Damian smirked. "Very well."

He set his glass down and turned to face her fully.

"I need someone I can trust," he said, his voice lower now. "Someone who can handle discretion."

Emma crossed her arms. "And you think that’s me?"

"I know it’s you," Damian said.

A shiver ran down her spine. "Why?"

His gaze darkened. "Because I know what it’s like to have everything taken away."

Her breath caught.

The weight in his voice, the quiet intensity in his expression—it was the first crack in the impenetrable armor of Damian Wolfe.

For a moment, she almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

Before she could respond, her phone suddenly buzzed from the coffee table.

Her eyes widened. "I thought—"

Damian gestured for her to check it.

Frowning, she picked up the device, her heart stuttering as she saw the new message.

Unknown Number: Leave now. You’re not safe.

The blood drained from her face.

She looked up at Damian sharply, but he didn’t seem surprised.

In fact… he almost looked amused.

"What the hell is this?" she demanded, holding up the screen.

Damian took a slow sip of his whiskey before answering.

"A test."

Emma’s stomach twisted. "What?"

He set his glass down, stepping closer. "You’re about to enter a world where secrets are currency, and enemies are everywhere."

Her fingers tightened around the phone. "And you wanted to see how I’d react?"

His lips curved slightly. "Let’s just say… I wanted to know if you’d run."

Her pulse thundered.

Damian Wolfe was playing a game.

And the worst part?

She was already caught in it.

To be continued…