Vivian didn't sleep.
She spent the night staring at her ceiling, replaying the conversation in Lucian Sterling's office. The way he'd said one year like it was a prison sentence. The way his hand had felt in hers—warm, steady, and completely in control.
You made a deal with the devil, she thought. Now you get to work for him.
Her alarm went off at 6:00 AM. She was already dressed.
The Sterling Group headquarters was a glass tower in Midtown, sixty stories of corporate ambition. Vivian had walked past it a hundred times, always looking up, never imagining she'd ever work inside.
Today, she walked through the revolving doors.
The lobby was all white marble and gold accents, like a cathedral for capitalism. A security guard checked her new badge—Wei, V. Executive Assistant—and waved her toward the express elevator.
"Forty-eighth floor," he said. "Mr. Sterling's office."
The elevator was silent. Vivian watched the numbers climb. 10. 20. 30. 40. 48.
The doors opened onto a reception area that looked more like a penthouse apartment than an office. Cream-colored couches. Abstract art on the walls. A desk at the center, currently empty.
"You must be the new girl."
Vivian turned.
A woman stood in the doorway to the inner office. She was tall, blonde, and dressed in a cream silk blouse that probably cost more than Vivian's monthly rent. Her smile was perfect. Her eyes were not.
"I'm Karen Whitmore," the woman said. "Lucian's… associate."
The pause was deliberate. The kind of pause that said I've been here longer than you, and I matter more.
"Vivian Wei." She extended her hand.
Karen looked at it. Didn't shake. "Lucian doesn't usually hire assistants without my input. But I'm sure he had his reasons."
His reasons are blackmail and a twelve-thousand-dollar hotel bill, Vivian thought. But she smiled. "I'll try not to disappoint."
"See that you don't." Karen turned and walked into the inner office. "Your desk is out here. Coffee is in the break room. Lucian takes it black, no sugar, before 9:00 AM. After 9:00, he takes it with cream. If he's in a meeting, don't interrupt. If he's on a call, don't breathe."
Vivian blinked. "Anything else?"
"Yes." Karen stopped at the door and looked back. "Stay out of my way."
She disappeared into the office.
Vivian stood alone in the reception area, her new badge cold against her chest.
One year, she reminded herself. Three hundred and sixty-four days left.
The first week was a blur of spreadsheets and coffee runs and learning to anticipate Lucian Sterling's needs before he voiced them.
He was demanding in ways she hadn't expected. Not cruel—just exacting. He wanted reports formatted a specific way. He wanted calls returned within minutes. He wanted his schedule organized by priority, not by time.
"If it's not important, it doesn't go on the calendar," he told her on day two. "If it's on the calendar, it's important. Do you understand?"
"I understand."
"Good." He didn't look up from his laptop. "Close the door on your way out."
She closed the door. Then she leaned against it and took a deep breath.
He's impossible, she thought. And I have to work for him for a year.
Karen watched her from across the room. "Tough day?"
"Fine."
"Lucian has that effect on people." Karen smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "He's intense. Focused. Some people can't handle it."
Some people like you? Vivian didn't say it.
"I'll manage," she said instead.
"We'll see."
By Friday, Vivian had learned two things.
First: Lucian Sterling was a workaholic. He arrived before she did and left after she did. He ate lunch at his desk, usually something from the cafeteria that he barely touched. He took calls on weekends. He answered emails at midnight.
Second: Karen Whitmore was not his girlfriend.
"She's the daughter of a board member," the receptionist, a friendly woman named Maria, told her during a rare quiet moment. "Her family and the Sterlings go way back. Everyone assumes they'll end up together."
"They're not together now?"
"Not officially." Maria lowered her voice. "But she's been circling him for years. Like a shark. Just waiting."
Vivian thought about the way Karen looked at Lucian—like he was a prize she hadn't won yet.
Good luck with that, she thought.
At 4:00 PM, Lucian called her into his office.
"Close the door."
She did.
He was standing by the window, his back to her, looking out at the city. The afternoon sun made his silhouette look like something from a magazine ad.
"How are you finding the job?" he asked.
"Fine."
"Just fine?"
"It's only been a week." She kept her voice neutral. "Ask me again in a month."
He turned. "You're not happy."
"I'm not supposed to be happy. I'm supposed to be paying off a debt."
Something flickered in his eyes. "Is that what this is to you? A debt?"
"What else would it be?"
He walked toward her. Slow. Deliberate. Like he had all the time in the world.
Vivian stood her ground. But her heart was hammering.
"You could have fought me," he said, stopping a few feet away. "You could have refused the deal. You could have called a lawyer. You didn't."
"Because I couldn't afford a lawyer."
"Because you're a pragmatist." He tilted his head. "I respect that."
"I don't need your respect. I need this year to be over."
He smiled. That same smile from the hotel room. "We'll see."
Before she could respond, the door opened.
Karen walked in. "Lucian, the Carringtons are on line two. They need an answer about the—oh." She stopped, her eyes flicking between them. "Am I interrupting?"
"No," Lucian said. "Vivian was just leaving."
Vivian walked past Karen without looking at her. But she felt the other woman's gaze on her back like a blade.
At 6:00 PM, Vivian was packing her bag when her phone buzzed.
A text from an unknown number.
Meet me at the elevator. Don't tell anyone.
She stared at the screen. Who is this?
You know who.
Lucian.
She hesitated. Then she grabbed her bag and walked to the elevator.
He was already there, leaning against the wall, his jacket off, his tie loosened. He looked tired. And younger, somehow.
"Get in," he said.
"Where are we going?"
"Dinner."
"I don't—"
"It's not a request."
The elevator doors closed.
End of Chapter Three