The Billionaire's Intern (Maya Thompson) novel Chapter 377

Chapter 171: When Control Frays-1

By the time the clock crept past one, the illusion of control had begun to fray.

The top floor of Blackwood Enterprises was quiet, almost reverent, the kind of silence that made the city’s hum feel distant and inconsequential. Sunlight spilled across the polished marble floors and steel-and-glass expanse, striking the sharp angles of Damien’s face, carving shadows along his jaw, highlighting the tension he didn’t bother to hide.

He stood tall at the window, one hand tucked into his pocket, gaze fixed on the city far below. The streets moved with practiced rhythm-cars threading through traffic, people weaving past one another, the afternoon sun catching on glass and steel. From this height, everything appeared calm. Peaceful. Controlled.

But the calm outside only deepened the storm inside him.

His eyes, dark and restless, betrayed it all. Every measured breath, every slight tilt of his head, carried the weight of uncertainty. He wasn’t just annoyed-he was unsettled. Vulnerable in a way he hated to admit, even to himself.

Nearly four hours had passed since they left, and still neither James nor Monroe could give him a concrete update on their whereabouts. Not a word. Nothing.

A small, petty reaction-over a concert, no less-had spiraled into this. And now he couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that such a trivial spark had ignited consequences so precise

and infuriating.

He hated this feeling.

The ick inside him was relentless-a crawling, suffocating reminder that for once, control had slipped. That for once, he couldn’t dictate outcomes, couldn’t predict the moves of those around him, couldn’t bend reality to his will.

Damien’s eyes drifted to the horizon, scanning the distant rooftops as if sheer force of will could locate them. He could feel the quiet anger coiling beneath his skin, the careful edge of frustration that only sharpens in silence.

His jaw tightened further, muscles working beneath the skin, catching the afternoon light like chiseled steel. Every thought collided with the next-questions, possibilities, worst-case scenarios-but all ended at the same painful truth: he didn’t know. He couldn’t know.

And that, more than anything, was what gnawed at him.

The city moved on below him, unaware of the storm he carried in its reflection, while Damien

Chapter 11 When Control Frays 1

25 Ports

remained at the glass, a figure cut from pride, tension, and a rare, quiet vulnerability he loathed to feel.

Ashcroft appeared in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame. “You’re simmering nicely, D. Should I fetch a bucket, or do you want to cool yourself with dignity first?”

Damien didn’t look at him. “You think this is a joke?”

Ashcroft’s grin widened, entirely unfazed.

“Not at all. It’s… enlightening. Seeing you lose control over something you can’t buy, threaten, or command? Refreshing. Beats watching executives-or some assholes-beg for mercy.”

Damien didn’t turn from the window.

“So my predicament gives you enlightenment, huh?” he said calmly. “Good. You’ll need it.”

Ashcroft scoffed-but Damien continued, voice steady, deliberate.

“Last I checked, you’re not exactly thriving in the control department either. Harper’s been keeping you at arm’s length since our last night at the resort.” A beat. “And you’re not fooling anyone by pretending it doesn’t bother you.”

He finally glanced over his shoulder, eyes dark and unreadable-save for the faint, knowing smirk at the corner of his lips.

“The difference is,” Damien added coolly, “I know exactly why she walked away.”

His gaze held, unblinking.

“You’re still telling yourself she hasn’t.”

Damien’s words landed cleanly.

Ashcroft’s smirk faltered-just enough to notice.

Before he could respond, a knock cut through the air.

Both men turned.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify