TAMED BY THE BILLIONAIRE

Damien Steele's POV

The rumble of the limousine pulling into the driveway was hard to miss. I glanced at the time—she was late. Again. Typical.

Moments later, the front door flew open with the grace of a hurricane, and my sister, Amelia, breezed in, her designer bag dangling from her wrist like it weighed nothing. Her uniform was impeccable, as always, but her energy? Chaotic.

"Big bro Damien!" she sang, kicking off her shoes and leaving them in the middle of the hallway.

I sighed. "Shoes. Hallway. Fix it."

She ignored me, striding into the living room with her phone clutched in her manicured hand. "You will not believe what I saw on Twitter!"

I closed my laptop and leaned back on the leather couch, giving her my best what now? look. "Should I be scared?"

"No, you should be proud!" she shot back, throwing herself onto the couch opposite me. "You're trending, Damien. Trending!"

I arched an eyebrow. "What for?"

She shoved her phone under my nose. "This."

I glanced up from my laptop, raising an eyebrow. "What?"

She plopped onto the couch, pulling out her phone like it was some ancient treasure. "I saw a tweet about you today," she said, her voice practically dripping with excitement. "It was about you supporting education or something!"

I leaned back in my chair, blinking. Education?

"What tweet?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

She shoved her phone in my face. "Look! Everyone's talking about how you're funding scholarships for underprivileged kids. People are saying you're, like, a hero or something."

A tweet. About me. Supporting education. My mind started spinning, and before I could stop it, one name came crashing into my head: Sophia Reed.

Of course, it had to be her. She must've added that to my PR strategy. Typical. Always trying to make me look...what's the word? Relatable.

I clenched my jaw, pushing the thought away. Sophia was good at her job,too good but I wasn't about to let her get into my head.

"Big bro?" my sister said, snapping her fingers in front of my face. "Are you even listening?"

I snapped out of it, straightening my posture. "Of course I'm listening," I said, brushing it off.

"So?" she pressed, her eyes practically sparkling. "What do you think?"

I shrugged, leaning back in my chair with practiced nonchalance. "It's nothing," I said, waving a hand. "Just the least I can do to help the community."

Her jaw dropped. "Nothing? Damien, people are saying you're amazing for this!"

"People say a lot of things," I replied, my tone dripping with arrogance.

She stared at me for a moment, then rolled her eyes. "You're so weird, you know that?"

"Yeah, yeah," I said, pretending not to care. "Go do your homework or something."

She stood up, shaking her head. "You act all tough, but I know deep down you love the attention."

I stood, straightened my cufflinks, and started walking toward the bar. But her voice stopped me.

"Wait," she said, sitting up. "Who's the genius behind all this? I mean, I know you didn't come up with it on your own."

Her words hit like a dart. I paused, my mind unwillingly circling back to Sophia. She was brilliant, annoying, and far too confident for her own good.

"Nobody important," I said sharply, pouring myself a drink.

Amelia narrowed her eyes. "You're hiding something. I can tell."

"Drop it, Amelia," I warned, my tone icy.

She shrugged, standing up and grabbing her phone. "Fine. But you owe me details later."

I leaned against the bar, swirling the amber liquid in my glass, letting the quiet stretch. My thoughts were interrupted by the soft, calculated click of heels echoing through the hall.

Eleanor Steele.

"Ah, Damien," her honeyed voice drifted in as she entered the room, her perfectly manicured nails resting on the back of a chair. "I couldn't help but overhear your little conversation with Amelia."

I didn't turn to face her, keeping my gaze on the glass in my hand. "Do you ever not listen in?"

She chuckled, a sound that always felt more like a warning than amusement. "It's my job to keep this family together, darling."

I took a slow sip, bracing myself for whatever venomous comment she'd spit next.

"It seems this Sophia Reeds is doing wonders for your reputation," she continued, her tone dripping with fake sweetness. "Who knew someone of her... background could achieve so much?"

I turned sharply, setting my glass down on the counter with a clink. "Don't," I said, my voice low and dangerous.

Her eyebrows lifted slightly in mock surprise. "Don't what? Praise her? My, my, Damien, I didn't realize you were so protective of her."

"She's doing her job," I said coldly, stepping away from the bar. "Better than most people could, considering the mess I was handed."

Eleanor's lips curved into a sly smile. "Mess you were handed? Oh, Damien, you've always been good at deflecting. But let's not pretend this isn't personal."

I narrowed my eyes. "What are you getting at?"

She moved closer, her sharp perfume filling the room. "It seems," she said slowly, "like someone is finally giving love a second chance."

The word hit like a slap, sharp and unwelcome. My jaw tightened, and anger bubbled under my skin.

"Love?" I spat, my voice rising. "Don't start with your manipulative games, Eleanor. Love is a weakness. A distraction. And it has no place in my life."

She tilted her head, feigning innocence. "Is that why you're so defensive? Why you're practically singing praises for this Sophia?"

I stepped closer, glaring down at her. "You don't know anything about her or me. So stop pretending you do."

Her smirk wavered for a fraction of a second, replaced by a flicker of something else—fear, perhaps. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

"Careful, Damien," she said softly, her tone suddenly colder. "Anger doesn't suit you."

I clenched my fists, biting back the barrage of words I wanted to throw at her. Instead, I grabbed my phone from the counter and walked past her without another glance.

As soon as I stepped outside, the crisp evening air hit me, doing little to cool my rising frustration. I dialed the number almost on autopilot.

"Micheal," I said when he picked up.

"Damien? What's up?"

"Meet me at the office," I said curtly.

"At this hour?"

"Just be there," I snapped before hanging up.

I slid into the backseat of my car, the driver already waiting. "To the company," I ordered, staring out the window as the city lights blurred past.

Eleanor's words echoed in my mind, but I pushed them away. Love wasn't in my cards. It never had been, and it never would be.

But Sophia Reeds? She was a puzzle I couldn't ignore.