Tori stared at the outfit Vega had picked for her first day.
A short denim skirt with metal accents. A white blouse with a bow at the collar. Black heels that screamed, "Look at me."
She looked like she was auditioning to be a mistress, not a personal assistant.
"I'm going to kill you, Vega," she muttered, pulling on the skirt. No time to change now—she was already running late.
---
The elevator doors slid open on the executive floor. Tori stepped in, arms full of files Bell had given her yesterday. She'd aanalysedevery page last night, looking for gaps in his security protocols.
Nothing yet. The man was meticulous.
She fumbled with the files, trying to keep them from sliding everywhere while her hair fell across her face. Damn it. She needed to tie it back, but her hands were full and—
The elevator doors started to close.
A hand shot out, stopping them.
Tori's breath caught.
Bell Royal stepped inside, Aidan trailing behind him. Both men wore suits that cost more than her entire wardrobe. But it was Bell who made the air feel thinner—taller than she remembered, those mismatched eyes scanning her like a predator assessing prey.
"Good morning, sir," she said, forcing her voice steady.
Silence.
Bell didn't even glance at her. Just stared ahead, jaw set, expression carved from ice.
"Morning, Miss Tori." Aidan's smile was friendly. Too friendly. Fake as plastic.
Tori didn't answer. Subordinate like master—both of them two-faced devils in expensive suits.
The elevator hummed. Her hair tickled her neck, and she desperately wanted to tie it back, but moving meant dropping files, and dropping files meant looking incompetent, and—
"Master, I need to brief you on the Shanghai deal," Aidan murmured, leaning close to Bell's ear.
Bell nodded once.
'Ding.'
"See you around, Miss Tori." Aidan stepped off, that plastic smile still in place.
The doors closed.
And suddenly, Tori was alone with the Devil.
She hit the button for the Upper Deck, keeping her eyes forward. Breathe. Just breathe. He's just a man. A terrifying, dangerous, possibly-a-serial-killer man, but still just a man.
Her hair fell forward again. She tried to shake it back, but it was too long, too thick—
"Is there a problem, Miss Tori?"
His voice cut through the silence like a blade.
"No, sir."
"Then stop making those sounds."
'What sounds?' She wasn't making—
"Do you need help?"
She turned, stunned. Bell was looking at her now, those impossible eyes studying her face. Was that... concern? No. Impossible. The Devil didn't do concern.
"I just need to tie my hair back, but—"
"Give me the band."
"What?"
He held out his hand, expression flat. "The hair tie. Give it to me."
Tori blinked. Then slowly pulled the elastic from her wrist and handed it over.
"Turn around."
This had to be a joke. Bell Royal—CEO, suspected crime lord, the man who fed people to creatures called Morphers—was going to tie her hair?
She turned.
His fingers brushed the back of her neck, and electricity shot down her spine. He gathered her hair with surprising gentleness, though his movements were clumsy, unpracticed.
"How do I..." He paused, frustrated.
"Just gather it all together and wrap the band around twice," she said quietly.
He worked in silence. His cologne surrounded her—woody, spiced, dangerously intoxicating. She could feel the heat of his body behind hers, close but not touching.
"Your hair is too long," he muttered. "Cut it."
Excuse me?
Ding!
The elevator opened onto the Upper Deck. Bell stepped out without another word, his footsteps silent on marble floors.
Tori touched the ponytail. Perfect. Tight but not painful.
What the hell just happened?
---
The Upper Deck was controlled chaos—assistants rushing between desks, phones ringing, the hum of a company worth billions. Everyone looked polished, professional, and expensive.
And they were all staring at her.
"Tori!"
Lucy appeared, bright-eyed and smiling. "Didn't expect you up here! Usually ,newbies start on the lower floors."
"Special assignment," Tori said carefully.
"I saw you come out of the elevator with the Wolf." Lucy's voice dropped to a whisper. "Did something happen? He never uses that elevator. He has his own private one."
Tori's instincts flared. 'Why would he use the regular elevator today? Was he testing me?'
"Nothing happened. Just a coincidence."
"Weird." Lucy chewed her lip. "Hey, do you need help figuring out the boss's preferences? Like his coffee order or schedule habits?"
"That would help."
"Don't ask me—I've been here two years and only entered his office once. But Ashley over there was his assistant for a week before he transferred her. She might know."
Lucy pointed to a raven-haired woman with sharp eyes and an even sharper scowl.
"She looks friendly," Tori said dryly.
"She's... not. Be careful."
---
Tori made it exactly twenty minutes getting the documents ready so she could submit to the Devil. But a figure towered before her.
The desk shook as Ashley slammed her hands down, two other girls flanking her like backup dancers in a bad music video.
"Are you ignoring us?"
Tori looked up slowly, expression blank. "Can I help you?"
"First day and you're already playing innocent?" Ashley's smile was vicious. "I saw you come out of the boss's elevator. Trying to seduce him like the rest of the desperate bitches here?"
Lucy shot to her feet. "Ashley, that's enough—"
"Shut up, country girl. Birds of a feather, right? Two little peasants thinking they can climb the ladder on their backs."
The air shifted.
Tori stood. She didn't raise her voice. Didn't need to. Her eyes did the talking—cold, sharp, deadly.
Ashley's smirk faltered.
"Take that back," Tori said quietly. "Or you'll regret it."
"Are you threatening me?"
"I'm giving you a choice. Walk away now, or I'll make sure you're treated at the best hospital in the city." Tori leaned in. "Your decision."
Ashley's face went pale. She opened her mouth, closed it, then spun on her heel and stormed off, her lackeys scrambling after her.
Lucy let out a breath. "Holy crap. No one talks to Ashley like that."
"She'll get over it." Tori sat back down, already dismissing the interaction. She had bigger problems.
Like the mission. Like getting into Bell's house. Like figuring out what the hell that elevator moment meant.
---
Knock knock.
"Come in."
Bell's office was dimmer than expected—floor-to-ceiling windows, sleek furniture, and stacks of files that suggested he never stopped working. He sat behind his desk, reading glasses perched on his nose.
He looked... softer. Almost human.
"Do you need something?" He didn't look up.
"You told me to report for instructions."
"Right." He tapped the desk. "Leave those files here."
She set them down carefully.
"You'll move your things into my house today. I'll send you the address. My son will give you his schedule. Follow it exactly. And report any unusual behaviour"
Unusual how?"
""You'll know it when you see it." Finally, he looked up. "Any questions?"
A thousand. But she asked the safest one. "When should I arrive?"
"After work. I'll have Aidan send you the access codes."
"Understood."
She turned to leave.
"Miss Tori."
She stopped.
"Come here."
Her stomach dropped. 'Not again.'
She walked over slowly. Bell stood, pulling a small device from his desk drawer. He stepped closer—too close—his presence overwhelming in the quiet office.
"What are you—"
"Close your eyes."
"Excuse me?" Her hand instinctively moved toward where she usually kept a knife. "I'm not a whore, sir."
Bell blinked. Then—impossibly—he laughed. Low and rich and completely unexpected.
"Relax, Miss Tori. I need to scan your face for the house security system." He held up the device. "Unless you'd prefer to sleep outside?"
Heat flooded her cheeks. "Oh."
"Close your eyes."
She obeyed, feeling like an idiot. The device hummed near her face—warm light through her eyelids—and then it beeped.
"Done."
She opened her eyes to find him inches away, those mismatched eyes gleaming with amusement.
"What were you thinking?" he murmured, voice dropping to a whisper. His breath ghosted across her ear.
Her pulse spiked. "Nothing."
"Liar."
Then he stepped back, the moment shattering like glass.
"You can go."
Tori fled.
---
At the office, Bell stared at the closed door, a smirk playing at his lips.
She smells like vanilla and fear. Interesting combination.
He picked up his phone.
"Aidan. Run another background check on Tori Vega. Deeper this time."
"Sir, we already—"
"Do it again. And put surveillance on her movements. I want to know everywhere she goes."
"You suspect her?"
Bell's smile disappeared. "I suspect everyone. But her..." He paused. "She's too perfect. And perfect people are always hiding something."
He hung up and looked at the files she'd brought—marked with notes in neat handwriting, analyzed with impressive efficiency.
Smart. Beautiful. Dangerous.
'Let's see what you're really after, Miss Tori.'
---