Vane Towers didn't just sit in the center of the city; it loomed over it like a jagged pillar of black glass, a monument to a man who had conquered the digital age before he was old enough to rent a car.
At twenty-two, I was supposed to be celebrating my graduation with Sarah and Mia, nursing a hangover and looking for entry-level analyst roles at local banks. Instead, I was standing in a lobby that felt more like a high-tech fortress than a place of business.
I clutched my leather portfolio to my chest, my knuckles turning white. My degree in Finance and Risk Management had taught me to calculate the probability of a disaster.
Standing here, watching the high-security scanners pulse with blue light, the probability was a solid 100%.
"Lia Woods?" the receptionist asked. She didn't look up from her holographic interface. She was polished, perfect, and looked like she'd been programmed rather than born. She slid a silver keycard across the marble counter. "Top floor. Mr. Vane has cleared his schedule for the next twenty minutes. I suggest you don't waste them."
The elevator ride was silent and nauseatingly fast. As the floors blurred past on the digital display, my mind raced back to my friends. Sarah, with her Fashion Marketing brain, would have been drooling over the minimalist, expensive interior. Mia, the PR genius, would already be planning how to spin my "promotion" to the world.
But they didn't know the truth. They didn't see the black card Liam had left on my nightstand in my locked dorm room. They didn't see the way he looked at me at L'Élite, like I was a puzzle he was determined to solve, or a prize he had already decided to win.
The doors slid open with a soft, expensive chime.
The penthouse office was a cathedral of power. Vane Industries was the global leader in Quantum Intelligence and AI Defense Systems. At twenty-three, Liam Vane was the youngest man in history to hold the keys to that digital kingdom.
He was standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, his back to me. The city spread out beneath him like a toy set. He had discarded his suit jacket, and his white dress shirt was stretched tight across his broad shoulders. He'd rolled his sleeves up to the elbows, revealing forearms that were lean and corded with muscle.
He didn't turn around. He didn't have to. He knew I was there.
"You're four minutes early, Lia," he said. His voice was a low, vibrating hum. "I like punctuality. It's the first sign of a mind that respects order."
"I'm only here because you're a stalker," I snapped, my voice echoing in the vast, quiet space. I took a step forward, my heels clicking sharply against the dark wood floors. "How did you get into my room, Liam? And don't give me some cryptic billionaire nonsense."
He turned then. In the harsh daylight, his grey eyes weren't just lethal; they were predatory. He didn't look like a CEO; he looked like a king who was bored with his subjects.
"I didn't break in, Lia. I simply opened a door that was already unlocked," he said, walking toward me with a slow, measured grace. He stopped just inches away, invading my personal space. He smelled like sandalwood, expensive rain, and power.
"For someone with a degree in Risk Management, you should know better than to leave your defenses down," he murmured.
"I'm not here for a lecture," I hissed.
"I'm a Finance graduate. I don't need your 'charity' job."
Liam let out a short, dark laugh. He turned and walked back to his massive mahogany desk, picking up a folder.
"I don't hire people because they roll their eyes at me, Lia," he said, his expression turning cold and professional as he stared at my file. "I hire them because they are useful".
Then, his voice dropped an octave, becoming a rough, private whisper meant only for the air between us. "...and because I want you."
My heart skipped a violent beat. "Huh? What did you say?"
Liam didn't blink. His expression remained a mask of corporate steel.
"Nothing," he said flatly, his eyes snapping back to mine. "I was saying that's why I'm hiring you. Your analysis on Market Volatility in your senior thesis was brilliant. My Risk department is full of old men who are afraid to take chances. I need someone who sees the flaws in the system before I do. Someone who isn't afraid to tell me I'm wrong."
He slid a contract across the desk. The numbers at the bottom were staggering. Five times the starting salary of any bank in the city.
"Five times the salary," he said, his eyes locking onto mine. "A private driver. An apartment in the Vane Residential wing. You'll be my right hand. You'll go where I go."
"And the catch?" I asked, my voice trembling.
Liam leaned forward, resting his hands on the desk. The predatory smirk returned. "The catch is simple, Lia. You belong to the firm. Twenty-four hours a day. When I call, you answer. When I move, you follow. I don't just want your brain, Lia... I want your time. All of it."
"This isn't a job offer," I whispered. "It's a cage."
"It's the safest cage in the world," Liam countered. He held out a gold fountain pen. "You're twenty-two. You think you're ready for the world, but the world is full of people who will break you. I'm the only one who will pay you what you're worth while I'm doing the breaking."
I looked at the pen. Every instinct I had told me to run. But I thought about my empty bank account and the strange, electric pull I felt every time he breathed near me.
"Sign it, Lia," he commanded.
I reached out, my fingers brushing his as I took the pen. The spark was so intense I almost dropped it. I leaned over and scrawled my name at the bottom.
Liam watched me with a terrifying satisfaction. He reached out, his thumb grazing my jawline as I pulled back.
"Welcome to Vane Industries, Lia," he whispered. "Your things are already being moved to your new suite. Your first meeting is in ten minutes. Don't be late."