The Office Peon Wife
The elevator smelled of coffee, perfume, and fear.
I watched the numbers light up one by one—twenty-three floors between me and whatever version of my life waited above. Each ding echoed like a countdown. I'd spent the night in Damian Vale's penthouse, wearing a ring I couldn't remove, and now I was riding back to Vale Corp like none of it had happened.
Yesterday, I was the girl who picked up dry cleaning and made copies. Today, I was the billionaire's secret wife.
And no one could ever know.
The doors opened to the familiar chaos: phones ringing, keyboards clacking, people pretending they mattered. The open office buzzed like a hive of anxiety, and I was the worker bee everyone stepped on.
"Morning, Aria," someone called out—a sneer hiding behind a sing-song voice. It was Kendra, Damian's assistant. The woman had cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass and a talent for finding new ways to humiliate me.
"Mr. Vale's coffee—two sugars, no cream," she said, smirking. "Try not to mess it up this time. He's in a mood."
I forced a smile that hurt. "Sure. I'll get right on it."
If only she knew he'd been in a different kind of mood last night—one that involved rings, contracts, and vows whispered in a voice that didn't belong in daylight.
I made his coffee anyway. Because that's what I was—the peon. Invisible. Replaceable.
When I entered his office, the air changed. It always did. His presence rearranged the molecules. Damian was standing by the window, jacket off, sleeves rolled to his forearms, the morning light outlining the quiet power in his body. His silver cufflinks gleamed—mirrors for his eyes.
He didn't look up when I set the cup down. "You're late."
"I came straight here," I said, my voice steadier than I felt.
"Then you should've left earlier."
There it was—his voice, cold and clean as a blade. To anyone else, it would sound like a boss chastising an employee. But beneath the words, there was a current only I could feel—the pull of the bond, humming through the ring on my finger.
The mark on my wrist pulsed once. I hid it under my sleeve.
He finally turned to face me. "You read the file?"
"I read enough," I said. "Enough to know my mother trusted the wrong man."
A muscle ticked in his jaw. "Careful, Aria."
I stepped closer before I could stop myself. "Careful? You bind me to you with a contract, keep secrets about my family, and I'm supposed to be careful?"
His gaze dropped to my hand, to the ring. "That mark on your skin—it's reacting again, isn't it?"
I froze. "How do you—"
"Because I feel it too."
My heartbeat stuttered. The silver ring burned hot against my skin, and for a heartbeat the office light flickered. Damian's expression changed—sharpened, then softened, like he'd seen something impossible.
"You're not supposed to feel it," he murmured, almost to himself. "Not this soon."
"Feel what?"
"The bond," he said, voice low. "It's…alive."
Before I could reply, the door burst open. Kendra stood there, breathless, holding a stack of papers that wasn't just an excuse to interrupt. Her eyes darted between us, suspicion tightening her smile.
"Oh. Didn't know you were busy," she lied. "There's a problem with the finance report, sir."
Damian's tone iced over. "Then fix it."
She hesitated, eyes flicking toward me again. "Of course, Mr. Vale." She left, but not before shooting me a look sharp enough to draw blood.
When the door closed, I exhaled. "She hates me."
"She doesn't matter," he said.
"Easy for you to say. You're not the office joke."
He walked toward me, slow and deliberate, every step a warning. "If they laugh at you again, remind them who you belong to."
The words hit harder than they should have. "You mean remind them I'm your—what—property?"
His eyes darkened. "Remind them you're under my protection."
"Same thing," I said, my throat tight.
For a moment, the air between us crackled. His hand twitched like he wanted to touch me but couldn't. I stepped back. My pulse didn't.
Then something else happened—something worse.
The lights flickered again, and the room temperature dropped so suddenly my breath fogged in front of me. Damian's head snapped toward the window. I followed his gaze, and for an instant, I saw it—reflected in the glass behind us.
A shadow. Taller than a man, thinner than a nightmare, with eyes that glowed faintly red.
I gasped. The reflection vanished.
Damian moved instantly, crossing to the window, scanning the skyline below. His posture went predator-still.
"What did you see?" he demanded.
"Nothing," I said too fast. "I mean—I thought I saw—"
He turned, and the calm in his face wasn't human calm. "You're not safe here," he said.
"I'm not safe anywhere," I shot back.
He didn't deny it. "Go to my car. Now."
I hesitated. "Damian—"
He cut me off with a whisper that was more command than sound. "Aria. Go."
The lights flickered one last time. The ring on my hand pulsed like a heartbeat. And in that moment, I knew something was out there—watching me, waiting for me, hunting me.
As I backed toward the door, Damian's phone buzzed on the desk. He answered it without looking, voice low and dangerous.
"She's here," he said into the receiver. "But if they're back in the city… we're running out of time."
He looked up. Our eyes met.
"Don't trust anyone but me," he said.
And just before the door shut behind me, I heard him whisper into the phone—soft, but deadly clear:
"Tell the board. The heiress has awakened."
Aria doesn't yet know the meaning of "heiress," but Damian's enemies do. The supernatural world is closing in — and her bond is beginning to awaken.
Drop Your Vote and Comment........
By day, she's the office errand girl.
By night, she's the wife of the man who owns the skyline.
And now — every light flickers when she breathes.
If love meant signing away your freedom,
and power meant wearing a ring that burns when you lie —
would you keep it on,
or break the vow and risk being hunted by the dark that wants you back?
💍 Tell me:
What's stronger — the bond you didn't choose, or the danger waiting to claim you if you break it?