Serena POV

By the time Serena reached her office, her pulse was still racing.

She shut the door with more force than necessary, the sound echoing across the glass walls. A few startled glances from the outer cubicles reminded her she wasn’t alone — she straightened her blazer and exhaled slowly, forcing her composure back into place.

Her assistant, Nora, peeked in a few seconds later, holding a stack of files. “Is everything alright, ma’am?”

“Fine,” Serena replied curtly, lowering herself into the chair behind her mahogany desk. “Just leave those there.”

Nora hesitated. “Do you want me to call for coffee?”

Serena almost said yes — she needed something strong — but she waved her off instead. “No. Just… close the door behind you.”

When she was finally alone, she pressed her fingers against her temples, trying to make sense of the flash of irritation that still simmered in her chest.

She wasn’t supposed to care what her driver did. He was just a staff member — one she barely tolerated at that. But the sight of him laughing with that man, that… friend of his, had hit her nerves in a way she couldn’t explain.

She’d seen the way Damien’s posture had changed — relaxed, almost familiar — nothing like the calm, obedient driver she knew. The confidence in his voice, the look in his eyes when he’d turned toward her… it wasn’t the look of an employee. It was something else.

Something dangerous.

She took a deep breath and turned to her computer, trying to shake off the thought. But her mind wouldn’t stop replaying that scene.

That friend — Ethan, was it? — had said something about a “bet.”

A bet.

Her eyes narrowed.

Serena Holt had spent years building her empire. She’d been burned before — by business partners, by exes, by anyone who thought they could outsmart her. She wasn’t about to let some charming stranger with good looks and a dimpled smile become another mistake.

She clicked open her company’s internal portal, fingers flying over the keyboard.

Damien Reid.

No results.

Her jaw tightened. That couldn’t be right. She’d told HR to do a background check before hiring him — minimal, but still something. Yet the file she found under his name was almost empty. Too empty.

Date of employment: Three weeks ago.

Address: Lagos Mainland.

Phone: Verified.

References: None listed.

She frowned, tapping her pen against the desk. None of this made sense.

No driver in her company had ever gotten through with such little information. Unless someone… bypassed protocol.

She picked up the phone. “Nora,” she said, her voice was calm but firm, “get me HR. Now.”

Within minutes, a nervous HR manager appeared at her door. Serena didn’t look up from the file when she spoke.

“I need you to run a full background check on my driver, Damien Reid. Immediately.”

The man hesitated. “Uh, ma’am, we already—”

“Do it again,” she cut in sharply, finally meeting his eyes. “This time properly. I want to know where he’s from, who he’s worked for, and why his references are missing. Understand?”

He nodded quickly, wiping invisible sweat from his forehead. “Yes, ma’am. Right away.”

“Good.”

When he left, Serena leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. Her mind was spinning — part anger, part curiosity.

Who was he, really?

She’d told herself countless time that he was just a driver. But the way he carried himself — his posture, his calm under pressure, his subtle wit — it didn’t fit the part. She’d noticed his eyes the first day: sharp, calculating, like someone who’d seen more than he was letting on.

And that smile… irritatingly confident, like he knew things she didn’t.

She let out a short, humorless laugh. “What are you hiding, Damien?” she murmured.

****

That evening, as the city lights flickered outside her office window, Serena packed her things in silence. She refused to admit she’d stayed late because she didn’t want to face him again.

But when she finally walked toward the parking lot, her steps slowed as she spotted him leaning casually against the car. The dim orange of the streetlight touched his face, making the edges of his features softer, more dangerous.

He straightened when he saw her, that familiar half-smile tugging at his lips. “Long day?”

Serena’s pulse spiked before she could control it. She raised her chin, masking it with indifference. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Thought you might need a ride.”

“I said I’d call a cab.”

He shrugged. “I know. But you didn’t.”

She opened her mouth to retort — but his tone wasn’t teasing this time. It was quiet, almost sincere.

For a brief moment, her resolve wavered. Then she caught herself. “You don’t get to decide what I need,” she said coolly, stepping past him and opening the car door.

He didn’t stop her, but when she settled into the back seat, she could feel his gaze on her through the mirror — steady, unreadable.

As the car started moving, neither of them spoke. The silence was heavier than usual.

Serena turned to the window, pretending to watch the passing lights. But her thoughts were elsewhere.

On the mysterious man behind the wheel.

On the word bet.

And on the unsettling possibility that she wasn’t the one in control anymore.