Power

Power Solitaire Eve Newton Copyright © 2023 by Eve Newton All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Contents Preface Also by Eve Newton Foreword Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Chapter 49 Chapter 50 Chapter 51 Chapter 52 Chapter 53 Epilogue Preface Dear Readers, This is a dark romance with several content and trigger warnings. Please be aware of the dark nature before diving in. For further information, please contact me on [email protected] and I’ll be happy to answer any questions you might have! Incl but not limited to: mention of self-harm, violence, blood play, knife play and dub-con. Happy Reading! Love Eve x Also by Eve Newton https://evenewton.com/links Foreword The most common way people give up their power is by thinking they don't have any. Alice Walker Chapter One Bailey Power. They have it. I don’t. They’re somebody. I’m nobody. Intimidated and impressed by the size and scope, the building towers above me, its shining glass windows catching the light of the early morning sun and reflecting it back onto the city below. With its towering walls and ornate doors, its impressive architecture is complemented by the brickwork that lines the ground outside, its unique pattern and colors adding a touch of sophistication to the building. I lick my lips, nervous and overwhelmed. I’ve had a week to get used to the feeling of having this job in one of the most impressive investment banks in the city of Manchester. I only graduated from university in the summer, and now here I am, about to enter the working world in the finance district surrounded by power and influence. I wasn’t even going to apply for this job, but I threw caution to the wind, not even banking on an interview. I’m fairly sure I only got the job as a low-level assistant because all the other people who applied were overqualified and demanding more money than I was offered, which is peanuts. Still, it’ll be mine and is vastly more than what my part-time job at the coffee shop paid. So, winning, right? I wasn’t even interviewed here but rather in the café around the corner. That screamed to me that they were blowing me off. Inhaling deeply, I glance up again, trying not to feel intimidated. I’m an hour early, not having much clue what rush hour would be like on the commute in on the train. It took twenty minutes with stops, and it was busy, but nothing that slowed me down. But now I’m here at half past seven in the morning when I don’t start until half eight. I take a sip of coffee from my travel mug, breathing steadily to calm my nerves. If I’m this nervous before I’ve even gone inside, what am I going to be like in a few minutes when I enter the building? It is a symbol of the wealth and power of the people who work there. Standing before it, I feel a sense of awe and admiration as well. The doors of the building, a huge automatic, revolving pair, slowly swish around, which tells me that business has already started. Taking a step forward, knowing I’m prepped on the company and my job description, the sweat springs up on my palms. My stomach is twisted in knots. I fight the urge to turn around and run back the way I came. I gulp back the cool autumn air as I approach the imposing front doors. My anxiety spikes as I step into the revolving doorway in case I trip or get caught. It’s a slow sweep, so that calms me, and I don’t need to rush forward and stumble into the reception area. I’m immediately greeted by a wall of mahogany and glass. The floor is a shining black marble, and the walls are adorned with oil paintings and photographs of the most important members of the firm. Intimidating doesn’t cover it. It is a stark reminder of the power that resides within the walls, if I needed one. This is a place of wealth and privilege, of success, money and power. The furniture is very modern and expensive, with gorgeous leather chairs and mahogany tables piled up with financial magazines and newspapers. Forcing myself to move forward towards the enormous front desk, I plaster a smile on my face. The receptionist is a stern-looking woman who sits silently behind the counter. She doesn’t crack a smile or offer a friendly greeting. Instead, she stares at me with an unyielding gaze. Her stare makes it clear that she is ready to answer any questions you have, but she isn’t going to be overly friendly about it. She seems to be a symbol of the intimidating atmosphere of the reception area. The first thing you see when you enter the building, it sets the tone for the rest of the visit. The cold and sterile atmosphere is a reminder that this is a place of business, and that you should act accordingly. It is a reminder that you are entering a world of money and finance, and that it is not to be taken lightly. This is a place where deals are made, and money is exchanged, and that is something