The CEO’s Bed Toy

They stared at each other for exactly three seconds before Sasha remembered how to breathe.

Damien Wolfe had already known she was coming.

Her portfolio had landed on his desk that morning, flagged for final review. And the second he saw her name.. Sasha Dean.. he’d paused. Then opened the file.

The headshot was grainy, low resolution. But it was her. The girl from that night.

And now, standing in front of him, she looked even prettier than he remembered. Softer. Brighter.

Her lips were the same.. parted like she was just catching up to the moment. She smelled faintly of something floral, something that hadn't been there in the dark.

He let her stand there. Waited just long enough to watch the flicker of panic in her eyes.

She didn't think he remembered.

Interesting.

He cleared his throat softly, then said in a perfectly even tone, “Please. Have a seat.”

She blinked. Then stepped forward, clumsy in a way that only made her seem more real. Her bag slipped from her shoulder and she caught it just in time.

She sat opposite him, straightening her spine like she was trying to convince herself she belonged here.

“I’ ve reviewed your file,” Damien said, folding his hands over the desk. “Your background in digital brand identity is… impressive.”

“Thank you,” she said quickly. Her voice was tight, polished. “I’ ve been applying to Wolfe & Locke for a few months now, actually. This is… kind of surreal.”

She wasn't lying. Damien remembered seeing her name before. More than once.

He tilted his head. “Six applications, according to HR.”

Her eyes widened just enough to give her away.

“ I… yeah. I didn't think anyone was keeping count.”

“We keep count of everything,” he said, his mouth twitching into a faint smile.

She flushed. It wasn't just embarrassment. There was a flicker of something else there.. something she was trying hard to suppress.

He didn't push. Not yet.

“Tell me,” he said, sitting back, “why here? Why this role? Your portfolio could easily position you for a senior creative position at one of the boutique firms.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Collected herself.

“I think design isn't just about visuals. It’s about meaning. What something makes you feel. And Wolfe & Locke… your brand is powerful. Cohesive. But not sterile. It speaks. And I want to be part of that voice.”

He nodded slowly. She was nervous, yes. But sharp. Clear. Present. Not many people walked into this office and told him what they wanted to do. Most just listed what they’d done.

He watched her for another beat. Her hands were clasped too tightly on her lap.

“And the junior strategic associate role?” he asked. “You’ re aware it’s mostly support work.”

“I don’t mind starting small,” she said. “I want to learn. Grow within the company.”

“You have degrees in both digital design and communication strategy,” he said. “Why haven’t you been hired elsewhere?”

She flinched. Just slightly.

“I’ ve freelanced. Built a few campaigns on my own. I guess I was waiting for the right fit.”

Damien raised a brow. “You don’t seem like the type who waits.”

Her gaze flicked to him, and for one brief moment, something electric passed between them. Then she looked away again.

“It’s been a… weird few months.”

He wanted to ask more. About Troy.. she had mentioned his name that night. About what she was doing at that club. About why she looked like heartbreak had crawled into her ribs and made a home there. But that wasn't his place.

And he wasn't about to scare her off.

Instead, he reached for the leather folder on his desk and flipped it open again. Her resume. Notes from HR. He tapped the page lightly.

“You have promise,” he said. “And some interesting ideas in your freelance work. There’s a rawness to your approach. I think our team could use that.”

She blinked. “ You… wait. Are you saying… ?”

“I expect great things from you,” he said, rising to his feet. “You start tomorrow.”

She didn't move.

He walked around the desk, stopping a few feet from her, hands in his pockets. She looked up at him, eyes wide, unsure.

“I’ ll have Amanda send your onboarding documents this afternoon.”

“Right,” she said quietly, standing. “Thank you. Mr. Wolfe.”

He looked at her for a second longer than necessary.

Then gave a short nod.

She turned and walked out.

But not before he caught it.. that glance back over her shoulder.

And the way her fingers trembled as they reached for the door.

**

Sasha's Pov

I walked out of Damien Wolfe's office like I’d just survived a car crash. On the outside, I was calm. Composed. Inside?

Chaos.

What just happened?

I made it down the hall, past Amanda's sleek little smirk and the receptionist's perfect posture, out through the revolving glass doors, and onto the street before I even let myself think.

He didn't mention it.

He didn't even blink.

Was it possible… that he didn't recognize me?

I leaned against a building and pulled out my phone, texting Eliza with fingers that could barely move.

Me:

I got the job.

Three dots. Then:

Eliza :

Bitch.

Then again:

Eliza :

Wait. Like just like that???

Me:

He was… professional. Too professional. Didn't even acknowledge anything. I don’t think he knows.

Eliza :

Yeah. Or he knows exactly who you are and is just playing with you.

I stared at her message, and my stomach twisted.

I wanted to believe he didn't recognize me. That this job.. something I’d wanted for so long.. wasn't going to be poisoned by one wild, impulsive night.

But…

His eyes.

The way they watched me. Calculated, quiet. Like he was waiting for something.

And that smile. That barely-there smirk when he said I had promise.

It wasn't just about the job. I knew that. Deep down, I knew that.

Still, I told myself it was fine. That I’d keep my head down. Do the work. Avoid the top floor. Pretend that night never happened.

I told myself it was behind me.

I told myself all the right things.

But when I closed my eyes, I could still see his face in the dark. Still feel the way he kissed me like he’d never get the chance again.

Now?

Now he was my boss.

And I knew then.. this was just the beginning of a very bad idea.