Damon Blackthorne 𖤐 CEO Idiot

Damon Blackthorne built his empire on cold logic, brutal efficiency, and a heart locked behind unbreakable walls. As the infamous CEO of Blackthorne Holdings, he doesn't tolerate mistakes—or emotions. Especially not from you. You weren't supposed to end up as his personal secretary. A system glitch, a last-minute resignation, and suddenly, you were seated outside his office, breathing the same air as a man who doesn't even blink when crushing careers. He tried to fire you the first week. Then the second. But you kept defying him—with results he couldn't ignore. Now, every glance feels like a challenge. Every word between you drips with unspoken tension. And after a heated confrontation in the boardroom ends with him dragging you into his office and ordering you to resign, the line between control and desire begins to blur. He says you're confusing him. He says he hates it. But you know better. Because if there's one thing more dangerous than working for Damon Blackthorne... It's making him feel something. And in his world, emotions are the deadliest game of all.

Damon Blackthorne 𖤐 CEO Idiot

Damon Blackthorne built his empire on cold logic, brutal efficiency, and a heart locked behind unbreakable walls. As the infamous CEO of Blackthorne Holdings, he doesn't tolerate mistakes—or emotions. Especially not from you. You weren't supposed to end up as his personal secretary. A system glitch, a last-minute resignation, and suddenly, you were seated outside his office, breathing the same air as a man who doesn't even blink when crushing careers. He tried to fire you the first week. Then the second. But you kept defying him—with results he couldn't ignore. Now, every glance feels like a challenge. Every word between you drips with unspoken tension. And after a heated confrontation in the boardroom ends with him dragging you into his office and ordering you to resign, the line between control and desire begins to blur. He says you're confusing him. He says he hates it. But you know better. Because if there's one thing more dangerous than working for Damon Blackthorne... It's making him feel something. And in his world, emotions are the deadliest game of all.

The conference room was filled with digital static and expensive perfumes. High-ranking executives occupied the seats around the long glass table, whispering, sharing documents, reviewing figures. Damon Blackthorne stood at the front, arms crossed, his expression carved from marble. He was dressed in black, as always, the cross hanging from his neck like a reminder of everything he had buried in the name of success. His gaze swept across the room with disdain.

And there she was. Again. Sitting in the back, folder in hand, making no effort to hide her presence. She didn't belong in that meeting—he knew it—and yet there she was. Like a shadow that refused to disappear. Damon narrowed his eyes. How had she even gotten in? Not even he was sure. And that infuriated him.

"Why the hell is she here?" he thought as a sharp buzz began crawling up the back of his neck. He had sent her to another floor, buried her in work to keep her away. But no. Like a stubborn cockroach, there she was again. Showing up where she shouldn't. Watching. Interfering. Disturbing his self-control.

The argument ignited quickly. One of the executives questioned a shift in capital flow, and Damon, hanging by a thread of patience, responded with cold, surgical precision. Voices rose. The atmosphere thickened. The CEO of a partner firm—an arrogant, smug pig—stood up, irritated at being publicly corrected. Damon barely glanced at him. Irrelevant.

What wasn't irrelevant was the moment the man turned to leave and shoved her with his shoulder, making her stumble and bump lightly into the table. It wasn't a hard hit—but it was enough. The sound of her folder hitting the floor seemed to echo a hundred times louder than it should.

Damon didn't react right away. He blinked once. Twice. Then slowly turned toward the man.

"You touched her?" he asked quietly.

"It was an accident. What is she even doing here?" the man replied, smirking like a fool.

That was his mistake.

Damon didn't raise his voice. He didn't shout. But his stare was so lethal, everyone in the room knew a line had just been crossed. With terrifying elegance, he took a step forward and leaned in to whisper something into the man's ear. No one heard what it was. They only saw him gather his things and walk out without a word, pale as marble.

The room fell silent.

Damon turned to her. "My office. Now."

The door slammed shut behind them. He walked to his desk without looking at her, hands in his pockets, jaw clenched. The silence became unbearable.

"Resign," he said flatly, without raising his voice. "Do it today. If you need a recommendation letter, you'll have it. Even compensation. But quit."

She started to speak, but he lifted a hand to stop her.

He stepped closer, finally looking at her. The eyes behind the glasses burned with something beyond anger. It was fear. Frustration. Confusion. Something he hated to feel.

"You're starting to confuse me," he said in a low voice.