The Vaults Temptation (an ADULT 18+ READ)

Chapter 1

INTRODUCTION: Hi! I'm Erin and this is my fourth Wattpad book! Please note that the content is for persons over the age of 18 ONLY.

TRIGGER WARNING: the contents of this book contains scenes of graphic violence, rape, substance abuse, consensual non-consent, bondage and a plot twist. If any of these mentioned could trigger you, please do not proceed.

"For those who crave the slow burn before the explosion."

Holly Grace

I glance at my reflection in the mirror, tugging my long strawberry hair into a high ponytail. The soft strands gleam under the bathroom lights, I put a little Dior lip oil on my lips and layer some mascara on my eyelashes. It's a small ritual that makes me feel a bit more in control, a bit more like myself before stepping into the corporate world. I smooth down the front of my tight fitted white button-up shirt, making sure it's neatly tucked into my black pencil skirt. I slip on my black heels, the familiar click-click sound echoing in the quiet of my apartment. The heels add a few inches to my height and a lot of confidence to my stride. I grab my purse and head out the door, my mind already racing through the tasks waiting for me at the office. The investment company demands precision and efficiency, qualities I've mastered over the years as a secretary. My first stop is the local Starbucks, a necessary detour for my sanity and my boss's mood. I hurry across the busy streets of London, and the morning is filled with the hustle and bustle of the early morning work route. I smile at Jess, the barista I see every morning. "Hey Holly, the usual?" She says with a smile, I return to gesture and nod while juggling my bags and my work files. The barista knows my order by heart: a vanilla iced latte for me and a double shot espresso for Mr. Cooper. The scent of freshly brewed coffee is a small comfort in the rush of the morning. I glance around, noting the familiar faces of other regulars who, like me, are suckers for a good coffee every morning and cannot have a proper human interaction without it.

I check my watch while waiting for my order, anxiety creeping in as I realize that I'm late, "Shit" I whisper as I drum my fingers on the counter, silently urging the barista to hurry. Finally, she hands me the drinks with a smile, "Thanks Jess, have a great day." I say with a smile before rushing out the door. The cool morning air does little to calm my nerves as I navigate through the bustling streets.
My heels click against the pavement in a rapid rhythm, matching the beat of my anxious heart. The towering buildings of the financial district loom ahead, a testament to the power and prestige contained within their glass walls. As I reach the office, the familiar sight of the sleek, glass double doors comes into view, and I brace myself for the day ahead. I push open the glass doors with one hand, carefully balancing the coffee cups in the other. The lobby is a flurry of activity, filled with sharply dressed professionals, all on their own urgent missions. I weave through the crowd, offering polite nods and smiles, but my focus is on the ticking clock. Each second feels like a reprimand for my lateness. If I don't get to Mr. Coopers office in like, ten minutes ago, I'm in deep shit.

Reaching Mr. Cooper's office, I take a deep breath before stepping inside. His office is a stark contrast to the chaotic lobby: quiet, orderly, and exuding authority. Mr. Cooper looks up from his desk as I enter, his expression unreadable. I offer a small, apologetic smile and hand him his double shot espresso, the familiar ritual a silent promise of productivity. "Sorry I'm late," I murmur, my cheeks flushing slightly. Mr. Cooper looks up from his desk, his light brown hair neatly styled and his suit impeccably tailored. He gives me a quick nod and reaches for his coffee. "Good morning, Holly. Late again?" he says, handing me a list of tasks for the day. "I need these done by noon, especially the client reports. And make sure to follow up on the meeting with the Johnson account." I nod, taking the list from him. As I look over it, I can feel his eyes on me. When I glance up, he's sitting back in his chair, his gaze lingering on me in a way that makes my skin crawl. His eyes roam over me slowly, and I force myself to keep a neutral expression. "Understood, Mr. Cooper," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. I turn away and head to my desk, determined to shake off the uncomfortable feeling. Sitting down, I take a deep breath and start answering emails, focusing on the task at hand. Mr. Cooper rises from his desk, his movements deliberate as he buttons his suit jacket. The sound of the buttons clicking into place is oddly loud in the quiet office. "I want to have a meeting after work," he says, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. "There are a few things we need to discuss." His eyes hold mine for a moment longer than necessary before he turns and strides out of the office.
I sigh softly to myself, the tension in my shoulders easing slightly now that he's gone. The thought of an after-hours meeting with Mr. Cooper fills me with a sense of dread, but I push the feeling down, knowing I have no choice. "Yes, sir," I say to the empty room, my voice barely above a whisper. The words are automatic, a conditioned response to his authority. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself before diving back into my work. The list of tasks he gave me sits in front of me, a tangible reminder of the day's demands.

18:30pm rolls around and I'm sitting on the opposite side of Mr. Cooper's desk, feeling the familiar weight of tension settle in my chest. He stands by the office window, looking out at the city streets below. The silence stretches uncomfortably until he finally speaks. "I wanted to talk to you about your performance at work," he says, his voice carrying a note of authority. He turns towards me, and I knit my brows in confusion.
"Sir?" I ask, unsure of where this conversation is heading. My mind races, trying to recall any recent mistakes or issues. Mr. Cooper walks towards me and leans against the desk, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp. The distance between us feels suddenly too close.
"You've been late every morning since you've started working here," he says, crossing his arms over his chest. The accusation stings, and I feel my heart rate quicken. I know he's technically right, but the situation isn't as simple as he's making it out to be. "When I got hired, you asked me to arrive with a coffee every morning or not bother showing up," I respond, my voice trembling slightly. The memory of that conversation is vivid in my mind. I thought I was doing exactly what he asked, even if it meant cutting it close sometimes.
Mr. Cooper laughs softly, a sound that sends a shiver down my spine. His eyes trail over me, making me feel exposed and vulnerable. He reaches out, and before I can react, he traces his fingers along my leg. My breath catches in my throat, and I force myself to remain still, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing my discomfort.

"Not just that," Mr. Cooper says, his finger tracing up my pencil skirt. His touch turns painful as he squeezes my thigh, and I gasp, pushing his hand away. "I wanted to know what your problem is with me?" Before I can respond, he grabs my wrist and kisses me hard. I push against his chest, trying to create distance between us. "Stop," I say shakily, my heart pounding in my chest.
"I see how you look at me, Holly," he says, his eyes dark with anger. "You don't think I can't see your bra outline every day? And how you fold your legs in my direction so I can always see them?" His hand reaches for my blouse, and I claw and slap at him, desperate to get him to stop.
"I know you want me," he says through gritted teeth, his grip tightening. I dig my nails into his arms and push him away with all my strength. My hand moves on its own, and I slap him hard across the face.
I stand still, feeling a hole open up in my chest. "Mr. Cooper... I'm sorry," I say, my voice breaking. He straightens his jacket and fixes his hair, a cruel smile spreading across his face. "Fine," he says coldly. "You're fired. Pack your shit and get out. You're useless." The words hit me like a punch, leaving me breathless and numb.