Never Letting You Go

Chapter One

Damien

Ace Hotels were scattered throughout North America, and we were known for the prodigious customer service, the firm privacy when a known celebrity came to stay, and the prestigious appeal and feel of the hotels.

When I built the first Ace Hotel in New Jersey, I didn't think it would get popular and acknowledged in such a short period of time. One hotel became four, and then four became hundreds, creating my franchise: Ace Hotels.

I played football throughout high school and college, and my nickname was Ace because no one fucking played like me. I was a savage, brutal, and could knock down any man with just the brush of my shoulder.

It wasn't until my father passed away that I gave up football and pursued business. Here I was, some odd number of years later, sitting in one of many building offices I owned, speaking about opening up another Ace Hotel.

I looked down at the watch strapped to my wrist and tapped my foot impatiently on the floor. The meeting I was in to discuss the plans for the new hotel I was working on opening had me on edge.

It wasn't because I was nervous. I wasn't a nervous man. I was calm and collected and had to make it evident on my face to my investors sitting across from me.

My accountant and other workers were explaining the numbers and graphs at the end of the U-shaped table in the conference room, but my eyes weren't there. My eyes were at the door as I awaited my secretary to show up.

That was why I was on edge. The only person who made me nervous and kept me hanging right off the cliff edge was Mila Evans.

Mila was always punctual, except when she messaged me this morning that she would be running late. Mila has been working as my secretary for five years.

She didn't have any experience or even a proper resume and no degree beside her high school diploma, but none of that mattered when I hired her on the spot.

She was this petite and shy little thing that could barely look in anyone's eyes when they spoke to her, but she always had a smile and a blush when she spoke to me.

From the very first moment I met her, I felt this inner desire to take care of her. I was a strict boss and didn't take anyone's shit or drama because work was sacred to me, but I was more lenient with Mila.

I never pushed her over the limits I knew she had and never argued or fought with her. It helped that she was a fast learner and had adapted to my work and lifestyle in just a few months.

If you told her something once, you never had to tell her again. She was a good listener, always had my schedule memorized, and had my workload cut in half.

I was glad she stumbled into my office that day and asked me for a job. I remember her words even after five years.

'Any job would be fine. Even a janitor. As long as it's a job, at this point, I'm desperate.'

It was evident she needed a job; the money and how she sounded gutted me into hiring her. It's not like I had some weird kink with women begging me to hire them, but with Mila, she unlocked this hidden part inside me that wanted to care for and domesticate her.

I wanted to feed her while she sat on my lap, remind her to drink her water, brush her hair after a long day, and keep her in my arms as we fell asleep.

It was weird because my taste in sex ran rougher and darker than taking care of a woman. I enjoyed the way my beast was unleashed when I bedded a woman.

The way I could easily wrap her hair around my wrist and pull her neck back as I fucked her from behind.

Or the way my teeth could leave bites and marks all over her skin for her to remember me by. It's not like I haven't had dreams like that about Mila because I did, but I would always wake up feeling guilty and disgusted.