Isabella POV
I sat alone in the conference room for twenty minutes after Damien left, staring at the empty chair where he'd delivered his ultimatum with surgical precision. My hands were still shaking, my pulse still racing from the moment he'd trapped me against the windows with his body heat and that devastating intensity that had always been my downfall.
Beg for everything. For me.
The words echoed in my head like a taunt, like a promise, like the most dangerous kind of seduction. Because for one terrible, wonderful moment when he'd been pressed against me, when I could feel the hard strength of his chest beneath my palms and smell that masculine scent that was uniquely his, I'd wanted to.
God help me, I'd wanted to beg.
Focus, Isabella. He's not the boy you loved. He's the man who wants to destroy you.
But even as I tried to convince myself of that, I couldn't shake the memory of the brief flash of pain I'd seen in his eyes when I'd told him the truth about my ignorance. For just a second, he'd looked like the Damien I remembered, vulnerable, uncertain, human.
Then the mask had slammed back into place, and he'd become the predator again.
A soft knock on the door interrupted my spiraling thoughts. Marcus appeared in the doorway, his expression carefully neutral in the way that meant he was dying to ask questions but wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answers.
"How did it go?" he asked, settling into the chair across from me, the same chair Damien had occupied, though Marcus's presence couldn't begin to fill the space the same way.
"About as well as expected," I said, proud that my voice was steady. "Cross Enterprises' offer has been rejected."
"And their response?"
Their response. Damien's promise that this was just the beginning, that he would systematically destroy everything I cared about until I came crawling to him for mercy.
"They'll escalate," I said simply. "This was never about a friendly acquisition, Marcus. This is personal."
Marcus leaned forward, his lawyer instincts clearly sensing there was more to the story. "Personal how?"
I studied his face, weighing how much to tell him. Marcus had been loyal to my father, was loyal to me, but this situation was complicated in ways that went far beyond corporate warfare.
"Damien Cross used to work for Sterling Industries," I said finally. "Seven years ago. There was a... falling out."
"What kind of falling out?"
The kind where my father stole Damien's revolutionary technology and destroyed his life to protect me from a future he didn't approve of. The kind where the boy I loved disappeared overnight and I spent months wondering if I'd imagined the connection between us.
"The kind that doesn't get forgiven," I said. "Marcus, I need you to pull every file we have on Cross Enterprises. Financial records, acquisition history, corporate structure, everything. If we're going to war, I need to know exactly what we're up against."
"Already done," he said, sliding a thick folder across the table. "I had a feeling this meeting wasn't going to end in handshakes and champagne."
I opened the folder and felt my stomach drop as I scanned the first page. Cross Enterprises wasn't just successful, it was a corporate juggernaut. Fifty-seven successful acquisitions in five years, assets worth over three billion dollars, and a track record of surgical precision when it came to dismantling struggling companies.
"Jesus," I breathed. "He really did it. He built an empire."
"Who really did what?" Marcus asked, but I was already lost in the files, seeing the boy I'd known reflected in the ruthless efficiency of the man he'd become.
Damien had always been brilliant, but this... this was something else entirely. The portfolio showed companies acquired and either restored to profitability or systematically harvested for valuable assets. No wasted motion, no unnecessary cruelty, just cold corporate logic applied with devastating effectiveness.
He learned from the best. He learned from Dad.
The thought hit me like ice water. Of course he had. Richard Sterling had been his mentor, his father figure, the man who'd taught him everything about business and corporate strategy. When Dad had betrayed him, Damien had taken those lessons and turned them into weapons.
"Isabella?" Marcus's voice seemed to come from very far away. "Are you all right?"
No, I wasn't all right. I was drowning in the realization that the man who wanted to destroy me had been trained by my own father. That every move Damien made would be informed by years of watching Richard Sterling operate, learning his strategies, understanding his weaknesses.
Including his greatest weakness. Me.
"I need to see my father's personal files," I said abruptly. "Everything from seven years ago. Personnel records, research and development projects, legal documents, everything."
"Isabella, those files are sealed. Your father left specific instructions, "
"I don't care what instructions he left," I snapped, my temper finally finding a target. "Damien Cross is about to tear this company apart piece by piece, and the only way I can fight him is if I understand what really happened between them."
Marcus was quiet for a long moment, studying my face with the intensity of a man trying to solve a puzzle.
"You know him," he said finally. "This isn't just about business for you either."
It wasn't a question, and I didn't try to deny it. Marcus was too smart, and I was too rattled to maintain the pretense.
"I knew him," I corrected. "Seven years ago. Before... whatever happened between him and my father."
"How well did you know him?"
The question hung in the air between us, loaded with implications I wasn't ready to address. How well had I known Damien Cross? Well enough to fall in love with him. Well enough to give him my virginity on a moonlit overlook above the city. Well enough to promise to wait for him forever.
Not well enough, apparently, to survive what came after.
"Well enough," I said finally. "Marcus, I need those files. All of them. Tonight."
He nodded slowly. "I'll see what I can do. But Isabella, if this is personal... if there's history between you two that goes beyond business... you need to be very careful. Personal vendettas make people stupid, and Damien Cross clearly isn't stupid."
No, he's not stupid. He's brilliant and wounded and dangerous in ways I'm only beginning to understand.
After Marcus left to hunt down the sealed files, I remained alone in the conference room, watching the city lights begin to twinkle in the growing dusk. Somewhere out there, Damien was probably planning his next move, strategizing how to apply maximum pressure to Sterling Industries' weak points.
And I was sitting here remembering the way his breath had felt against my ear when he'd whispered my name, the way his body had felt pressed against mine, solid and warm and achingly familiar despite everything that had changed.
You're in so much trouble, Isabella.
My phone buzzed with an incoming text from an unknown number. I opened it with trembling fingers, somehow knowing who it would be from before I read the words:
"You looked beautiful today. Almost like the girl I used to know. Sleep well, bella. Tomorrow the real fun begins. , D"
I stared at the message until the words blurred, my heart hammering against my ribs. He'd been watching me after he left. Watching and waiting and planning his next move while I sat here trying to piece together the wreckage of our past.
Another text arrived before I could respond to the first:
"P.S. , I still remember exactly how you taste. Do you remember how you used to moan my name?"
Heat flooded my cheeks, my body responding to the memory despite my mind's desperate attempts to stay focused on the corporate battle ahead. Because I did remember. God help me, I remembered everything, the way he'd worshipped my body with his hands and mouth, the way he'd made me feel like the most precious thing in his world, the way I'd fallen apart in his arms while whispering his name like a prayer.
I deleted both messages without responding, but I couldn't delete the memories they'd stirred up. Couldn't stop thinking about the predatory way he'd smiled when he'd told me he wanted me to beg for him.
This is war, I reminded myself. Whatever you two used to be, whatever you felt for each other, that's over. He made that clear today.
But even as I tried to convince myself of that, I couldn't shake the feeling that the war between Damien Cross and Isabella Sterling was going to be fought on battlegrounds that had nothing to do with boardrooms and everything to do with the heart.
My phone rang, startling me out of my thoughts. The caller ID showed Henry Morrison's name, and I answered quickly, grateful for the distraction.
"Isabella, I've been thinking about today's meeting," he said without preamble. "There's something I need to tell you about Damien Cross. Something your father made me promise never to mention unless it became absolutely necessary."
My blood ran cold. "What kind of something?"
"The kind that changes everything," Henry said grimly. "Can you meet me at my office? Tonight? Because if we're going to war with that boy, you need to know exactly what we're up against."
That boy. Even Henry, who'd known Damien when he was just Richard's eager protégé, recognized that the man who'd walked into our boardroom today was something else entirely.
"I'll be there in an hour," I said, already gathering my things.
As I left Sterling Tower and walked into the cool evening air, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was about to learn something that would change everything I thought I knew about the past. About my father, about Damien, about the choices that had led us all to this moment.
Whatever it is, I can handle it. I have to handle it.
But deep down, I suspected that nothing could prepare me for the truth Henry Morrison was about to reveal.
Nothing ever could when it came to Damien Cross.