Scarlett's Pov
A chill ran down my spine as my brain finally caught up with reality.
Damien. Damien Calloway.
The man I had spent the night with, the man whose touch I could still feel on my skin—was the CEO of this company.
How had I not realized it before?
The moment his name left the lips of one of the executives, the pieces started to fall into place. The way people had moved around him with subtle deference when I first saw him at the bar. The quiet authority in his voice. Even the tailored suit he had been wearing—expensive, crisp, exuding power.
But now, as he stood in the doorway, looking entirely unbothered by the chaos unfolding before him, I wasn't thinking about last night.
I was thinking about how badly I was screwed.
His dark eyes scanned the room, taking in the mess—the executives in varying states of shock, the real intern looking like she wanted the ground to swallow her whole, and Richard, who was still fuming at my very existence.
Then his gaze landed on me.
A slow smirk spread across his face.
The same damn smirk that had made my knees weak the night before.
I had never wanted to die more in my life.
Damien took a step forward, the energy in the room shifting instantly. It was like everyone had been wound up tight, but now—now they were waiting.
Waiting for him to speak.
"What's going on here?" Damien's voice was calm, but there was something underneath it—a quiet authority that made it clear he expected an answer.
Richard practically jumped at the opportunity.
"Sir!" Richard stepped forward, his face twisted with righteous anger. "I was just about to call security. This woman—Scarlett Monroe—was rejected during her interview earlier today. But instead of leaving the premises like a professional, she lied her way into this boardroom, stole the intern's seat, and misrepresented our company!"
He turned to the rest of the room, his voice rising dramatically. "She deceived us! Had us all fooled into thinking she belonged here! And worse, she took advantage of an intern's absence to pull off this stunt—"
"Stunt?" Damien cut him off.
His voice was mild, almost amused.
Richard hesitated.
Damien turned to the executives. "Is that what happened?"
There was a long pause. Then, finally, the CFO—Mr. Nathaniel—adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat.
"Not… exactly," he admitted. "Yes, Miss Monroe was not the intern assigned to this meeting. But I wouldn't call what she did a stunt."
Damien raised an eyebrow. "Go on."
Mr. Nathaniel hesitated, then sighed. "She gave a presentation. An excellent one, in fact. And she handled our questions better than most junior employees would have."
Damien hummed, his eyes flickering to me.
I swallowed.
"And how did this happen, exactly?" Damien continued, still watching me.
Richard immediately jumped back in. "She forced her way in—"
"Not true," someone interrupted.
Richard turned, eyes blazing, as the real intern finally spoke. She was clearly nervous, but she lifted her chin.
"She didn't force her way in," the intern continued. "She was already inside when I got here. Someone must have brought her in by mistake."
Damien nodded, his expression unreadable.
Richard's jaw clenched. "Sir, regardless of how she got here, she had no right to present that material. She was knowingly deceiving us—"
"I never said I was the intern," I cut in, my voice sharp.
Richard's head snapped toward me, his face twisted with fury.
Damien's smirk widened.
"Interesting," Damien mused. "So, you were just placed here and told to present?"
I hesitated, then nodded.
Damien exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly.
"I see," Damien said, his tone disturbingly casual. "So, what you're telling me is that Scarlett Monroe, after being rejected for a job, somehow managed to accidentally walk into one of our most important meetings of the quarter, deliver a flawless presentation, impress every executive in the room, and handle every question with more competence than half the people in this department?"
The room fell silent.
Richard hesitated. His mouth opened, then closed.
Damien turned his gaze to the rest of the board members, his smirk deepening. "Is that an accurate summary?"
A few nervous glances were exchanged. Someone cleared their throat.
A woman in a gray blazer spoke up.
"…Yes," she admitted. "That's exactly what happened."
Another executive nodded. "I don't know what's going on here, but I do know that Miss Monroe demonstrated an impressive level of skill. Whether she was supposed to be here or not, the fact remains—she handled herself exceptionally."
A few more murmurs of agreement followed.
Richard's face paled slightly.
"Sir," Richard tried again, his voice strained, "you're missing the point. She lied. She deceived us. That alone should be grounds for removal—"
"Did she lie?" Damien cut in smoothly.
Richard flinched at the interruption.
"She never claimed to be the intern, did she?" Damien continued. "She was simply ushered into the room and told to present. And she did." His voice darkened slightly. "Better than most people in this company, apparently."
Silence.
Richard's fists clenched at his sides. I could see the barely contained frustration rolling off him in waves.
It was over.
He was losing control of the situation.
Damien exhaled slowly, as if he was growing tired of this conversation. "Let's talk about the real problem here, Richard." His gaze flickered toward the real intern, still standing awkwardly by the door. "From what I understand, this presentation was meant to be given by an intern."
Richard stiffened. "That's correct."
"And who assigned an intern—an unpaid intern—to present something this important to the board?"
Richard hesitated.
Then Damien smirked. "You did, didn't you?"
Richard's entire body went rigid.
"I have to say, Richard, that's… unbelievably incompetent," Damien continued, his tone casual, yet laced with something sharp. "Almost makes it seem like you don't take this job seriously at all."
There was an audible inhale from one of the executives.
Richard looked like he wanted to argue, but he was trapped. If he kept pushing, he'd only make himself look worse.
I had to physically stop myself from smiling.
"Well," Damien said, straightening. "Let's resolve this, then."
"I'll give Miss Monroe the job she originally applied for," Damien announced.
Richard's head snapped up.
"You can't do that," he protested, his voice tight with barely controlled frustration. "I've already hired someone else. They'll be starting next week. If you fire them before they've even begun, it'll be completely unfair."
Damien tilted his head. "You mean to tell me that you hired someone that quickly? Before the interview process was even finished?"
Richard's face turned red.
But Damien only sighed. "Fine. Keep your new hire. Miss Monroe will have to find another position."
Richard smirked. "Exactly. Now, about a small compensation for—"
"Though," Damien cut him off smoothly, "there is one position I've been considering filling for a while."
My stomach twisted.
Something in Damien's expression shifted. He turned to me fully, his gaze dark, unreadable.
"I've been needing a new secretary," he said. "And I think Miss Monroe would be perfect for the role."
The room fell into a stunned silence.
Richard went rigid.
"What?" Richard's voice was strained, like the word physically hurt to say. "Sir, you—surely you can't be serious—"
Damien's expression cooled. "Do I look like I'm joking?"
Richard opened his mouth, then smirked.
"Well," Richard mused, his voice sickeningly smooth. "Considering the little rendezvous you two had last night."
The room tensed.
Damien's expression didn't change.
Then, in a voice far colder than before, he said, "Richard."
Gulp.
Silence.
Then Damien turned back to me—smiling.
"Welcome to the company, Miss Monroe. You're officially my new secretary."