Chapter 1

For seven years, I was billionaire Sebastian Scott's dirty little secret in Washington D.C.

By day, I was his sharp, capable secretary. By night, I was his on-call plaything—always available, always giving him whatever he wanted.

I thought seven years of devotion would earn me a public commitment. Then the new intern walked into his office and changed everything.

I was forced to hide beneath his darkened desk, listening as he laughed softly for another woman just above me: "Scarlett Blake? She's nothing but a convenient outlet. How could she ever compare to you?"

In that moment, seven years of foolish hope shattered into pieces. I crawled out from under him, wiped the corners of my mouth, and walked straight into the arms of another powerful man in Washington.

Later, Sebastian cornered me with bloodshot eyes—desperate, begging me to come back. I just smirked and tilted his chin up with my finger. "Mr. Scott, I'm done playing lapdog."

Sebastian Scott's office was on the top floor, with panoramic floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the bustling D.C. business district.

Right now, the blinds were shut tight.

He had me pinned hard against the cold glass, my legs forced apart, my black pencil skirt bunched up around my waist.

"Mr. Scott... mmm... we're still at work..."

I bit my lower lip, trying to hold back the broken sounds rising from my throat.

Sebastian pressed against me from behind, his scorching breath fanning over the curve of my neck. His large hands gripped my waist hard, fingers digging in like a punishment — every thrust sending tremors through my entire body.

"What's wrong with being at the office?" His low, husky voice carried a thread of cruel amusement. His teeth grazed my earlobe. "Wasn't Miss Blake just begging me for more last night? Why are you playing innocent now?"

"Don't… someone might hear us…"

My whole body had gone soft as water. All I could do was grip the window frame and hold on. Seven years. I knew every inch of him — every temperature, every rhythm. All it took was one look, and every wall I had would come crashing down. I'd become his willingly, a toy he could use however he pleased.

Then, without warning, the door handle clicked.

"Mr. Scott? Are you in there?"

The voice drifting in from the hallway was soft and breathy — Sarah Anne, the new intern.

I froze instantly. Even my breathing stopped.

Sebastian paused too. But instead of pulling back, he drove forward once more — deliberate, unhurried — and only after he heard my sharp gasp did he leisurely zip up his slacks.

"Get under there."

His voice was cold and flat. He gestured toward the space beneath the large mahogany desk.

I clenched my jaw and yanked my skirt back down. Then I got on my hands and knees and crawled into the cramped dark space — like a rat scurrying out of the light.

I had barely tucked myself in when the door swung open.

"Mr. Scott, why didn't you answer when I knocked?" Sarah walked in on her stilettos, hips swaying. She had on a silk blouse today with a deep plunging neckline. Her perfume flooded the room instantly, smothering the warm, intimate scent of us that had still been hanging in the air.

Sebastian leaned back in his chair, long legs crossed casually.

My face was inches from the hem of his slacks. I could still smell the warmth on him — the scent that was mine.

"What is it?" Sebastian's voice had returned to its usual cool, detached calm. You'd never have guessed that less than a minute ago, he'd been losing himself in me.

"I can't make sense of this proposal," Sarah said, rounding the desk. She leaned against the back of his chair, her chest brushing against his shoulder — whether by accident or not. "Miss Blake is always so cold. I'd never dare ask her. Could you please teach me, Mr. Scott?"

As she spoke, Sarah's pen slipped from her fingers with a soft clatter and rolled straight under the desk.

"Oops — my pen."

She let out a little gasp and started to crouch down to reach underneath.

My heart shot into my throat. I pressed both hands over my mouth, cold sweat soaking through my back. If she spotted me — disheveled, tucked between Sebastian's legs — every shred of dignity I'd held onto for seven years would become a joke.

Just as Sarah's face was about to peer underneath, Sebastian's hand shot out and hooked around her waist, pulling her straight into his lap.

"It's just a pen." He let out a quiet laugh, and his voice carried a rare, indulgent softness. "Is it really worth getting yourself?"

Sarah slid onto his lap, her voice coy and playful. "Mr. Scott, you're so naughty. But... Scarlett always looks so uptight, dressing like some frumpy nun. Doesn't staring at her all day kill your mood? Not like me — I know exactly how to make a man happy..."

Under the desk, I drove my nails into my palm until I drew blood.

I held my breath, desperately hoping Sebastian would say something in my defense. Even just one sentence — even just "she's good at her job."

But there was nothing.

A low, lazy laugh drifted down from above.

One of his hands toyed with Sarah's hair on the desktop. The other rested on my head beneath the desk — idle and absentminded — like he was patting a cheap little pet.

"Scarlett?" Sebastian's voice was casual, almost bored. But it cut like a blade dipped in poison, driving straight into my chest. "She's nothing. Just a convenient outlet I keep around to use. Lies there like a dead fish — nowhere near as fun as you."

"Oh, stop it, Mr. Scott~ I'll be waiting for you at the Hilton tonight..."

Their flirtatious voices tangled together above my head.

I crouched in the darkness beneath the desk as tears fell silently onto the cold floor.

Seven years.

Seven years I had stood by his side — from the day he was nothing but an illegitimate son with nothing to his name, clawing his way up, all the way to the moment he secured his seat as CEO of The Scott Group. I had fended off the grabby hands of drunk men at his business dinners. I had stayed up countless nights writing proposal after proposal. And in more moments than I could count, I had humiliated myself to satisfy his every twisted desire.

I thought I was something special to him.

Turns out, I was just "a convenient outlet he kept around."

In that moment, my heart died. Not with shattering, unbearable pain — just a slow, nauseating wave of disgust rising in my chest.

I listened as Sebastian sent Sarah away.

The moment the door clicked shut, he nudged my shoulder with the tip of his shoe.

"Come out. Let's finish." He leaned back in his chair, reaching for his zipper, looking down at me like he was doing me a favor.

I slowly crawled out from under the desk. But I didn't kneel between his legs the way I always had.

I stood up straight. I smoothed my tangled hair. I peeled off my torn stockings and dropped them into the trash can beside me.

"Mr. Scott, I've got my period. I'm not up for it today."

I looked at him. My eyes were calmer than they had ever been.

Sebastian frowned, visibly annoyed by the refusal — something that had never happened before. "Scarlett. Stop playing games. Get over here."

"No."

I picked up the documents from the desk and turned toward the door. "Don't you have the Hilton tonight? Save your energy."

With Sebastian staring after me in stunned silence, I pushed the door open and walked out without looking back.

That was the first time in seven years I had refused him.