Evelyn's heels clicked softly on the polished floor as she followed him through the private elevator, trying not to gawk. The ride was silent, tense—an invisible current of something sharp and electric humming between them. Her reflection shimmered in the mirrored walls, making her feel more exposed than ever.
He didn't speak. Just stood there like a sculpture—flawless and unbothered.
When the doors opened, she was greeted by a penthouse office unlike anything she had imagined. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the skyline, the entire city stretching beneath them like a conquered empire. Sleek black furnishings, crystal decanters, and books she doubted had ever been touched.
"Sit," he said, motioning toward a chair that probably cost more than her entire apartment.
She obeyed.
"What position did you apply for?" he asked, taking his seat across from her, fingers steepled beneath his chin.
"Marketing analyst," she replied, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "Entry level."
He studied her for a long moment, the silence dragging. "You have no experience."
"I have potential."
"You were late."
"I ran."
"You argued."
"I answered."
His brow lifted, almost amused. Almost.
"Do you always fight your way into places you're not invited?" he asked.
"Only when the door's worth opening."
That did it. The corner of his mouth curled—not a smile, exactly, but something close.
"I don't need an analyst," he said slowly. "I need a fixer. Someone who sees cracks before they break things. Someone who can keep secrets."
"I'm a fast learner," she said.
"I don't hire learners. I hire winners."
She leaned forward, eyes steady. "Then you should know something, Mr. Wolfe. I don't lose."
A pause. Then, he stood.
"Be here Monday, 6 a.m. sharp. One mistake and you're out."
And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving her alone in the glass tower.
Evelyn exhaled for the first time since she entered. She had no idea what she'd just signed up for. But one thing was certain:
Her life would never be the same.