Stella's POV

Pretending to be sick didn't take any effort. After what happened yesterday, my entire body felt like it had been run over by a truck. There was a crushing emotional weight keeping me pinned to the mattress, as I stared at the stained ceiling of my apartment.

The kiss Damian gave me still felt like it was burning on my lips, like a brand. It wasn't a kiss. It was an invasion. A line crossed.

The moment I stepped off the plane yesterday, everything inside me screamed to run. My heart raced so hard I barely slept last night. And when I finally did, I dreamed about him. I can still remember the weight of his body over mine, his hand holding my face, the hunger in his eyes, my own sounds begging for more.

So this morning, I called HR and said I wasn't feeling well. I didn't even have to fake the cold. My voice already sounded broken.

I spent the entire day thinking about quitting. I opened my laptop, typed a few lines, then deleted everything right after. The truth stared back at me, merciless.

I couldn't afford that choice.

My bills were overdue. Rent was due in four days, and my father's loan sharks would show up soon. Leaving that job meant choosing hunger, the street, and maybe even death. Okay, maybe that was dramatic. Leah would never let me starve or be homeless. But I refuse to make her carry the burden of supporting us both.

But how could I keep working there after that? After seeing his face and realizing there wasn't a trace of regret in it?

I curled into myself on the mattress, wrapped in a thin blanket, trying to convince myself it was just a nightmare. That it would pass.

That's when the doorbell rang.

I frowned. No one would come by at this hour, and Leah was at work.

I moved to the side window and carefully pulled back the curtain. My heart sank.

Damian Winter was standing at the entrance to my building. He was in a suit, like it was just another normal day at the office. And his expression was predatory.

I stepped back, as if he could see me from there.

The doorbell rang again. Once. Twice. Three times.

"Stella," his voice came sharp from outside. "I know you're in there. Open the door."

I closed my eyes.

Swallowed hard. Took a breath. With trembling fingers, I unlocked the door.

"What are you doing here?" My voice came out low, defensive.

His eyes scanned the apartment. The peeling walls. The cluttered couch. The dirty dishes piled in the sink. But his expression didn't change, like none of it surprised him. Then his gaze returned to me.

"You're not sick," he said, stepping inside without permission.

"Get out of my house, Mr. Winter."

"That's not what you want."

"You don't know what I want."

"Don't I?" He turned his head, taking in the apartment again. "You want to run. Because you're afraid of what happened."

"Of what you did," I corrected.

He moved closer slowly, and I stepped back.

"And you're thinking about quitting. But you know you can't."

My stomach twisted. He spoke like he was narrating my own thoughts.

"Why are you here?" I whispered.

He pulled an envelope from his briefcase and held it out to me.

"I'm here to resolve things between us."

I took the envelope carefully. Inside was a contract. I started reading. As my eyes moved down the clauses, the blood drained from my face.

"This has to be a joke."

"It's a proposal. You continue working for me. But… you'll also be my intimate companion."

"You want me to sleep with you. For money."

"I want a clean agreement. You're attractive, competent, and you need help. I'll have a woman who satisfies me and an efficient secretary. You'll have the financial support you need in exchange for your cooperation. And… for not getting pregnant. We both win."

I slammed the contract down on the table and stared at him in disbelief.

"I'm not a prostitute."

"I'm not saying you are. But everyone has a price, Stella."

The disgust that surged through me made me want to throw up.

"You're a monster."

"Don't pretend to be surprised. You met me in a corporate environment. Do you really think someone gets where I am without doing whatever it takes to get what they want? I'm being practical. You need money. You need this job. And I…" His gaze sharpened. "I'm attracted to you, Stella. But I'm not interested in pretending this will be romantic."

"I won't sign this. Never."

He took a step forward, and I saw his expression harden.

"Are you sure? Because I wouldn't be here if I didn't know you're in a… delicate situation."

I swallowed.

"You don't know anything about me."

"Do you remember?" he said calmly. "You walked into my company with a forged diploma and a fake résumé."

"…But I already explained everything!"

"Those explanations aren't in your file, sweetheart. I can take you to court at any time. And I don't think I need to remind you," his eyes flicked to the bank envelope on the table, "that you have debts to pay. A lot of them."

My body went cold.

"You investigated my life?"

"Don't worry about insignificant details. You just need to do what I'm telling you, and everything will be fine. I'm a man who protects his interests. And right now, you're one of them."

"This is blackmail."

"It's reality. You can go to the police if you want. But you'll leave here straight for a courtroom, charged with fraud. And with a criminal record, you can forget about ever getting another job at a company like mine."

Tears welled up in my eyes, hot and furious.

"I hate you."

He handed me the pen.

"You can hate me all you want. Just sign."

I stood there, staring at the contract as if it were a death sentence. My name was already printed at the top.

I signed while crying. My hand shook so badly that my signature came out crooked. When I finished, I dropped the pen as if it burned my fingers.

Damian showed no reaction. No emotion. As if he had just closed another deal.

My face was soaked with tears, but my stomach burned with contempt.

I lifted my chin, pulled my T-shirt over my head, and tossed it to the floor. Then I unbuttoned my shorts and let them slide down my legs, leaving me in nothing but my underwear.

"How much per time?" I asked, looking straight at him, the pain behind my tears completely exposed.