The storm had not been outside.
It had been in the boardroom.
Selene could still feel the static in her veins as she stepped into the glass-paneled elevator, her reflection staring back from every mirrored surface. The faint tremor in her fingers was hidden by the perfectly tailored sleeve of her ivory blazer, but she felt it all the same. Somewhere between the polished smile she wore and the steel she kept in her eyes, her body betrayed the truth: today had rattled her.
The board meeting had been a minefield—subtle questions aimed like sniper shots, carefully phrased remarks about "unified leadership," and Camille's voice threading through it all like poisoned silk.
Julian had spoken little, but his silence was not weakness. It was a weight. Every time he met her gaze across the polished mahogany table, she could feel the unspoken challenge in him. He had agreed to this fragile alliance of theirs, but that didn't mean he would play tame. Not for her. Not for anyone.
The elevator chimed softly as it climbed, the city unfolding in sharp fragments through the glass walls. From this height, everything looked orderly, controlled, perfect. She wondered if that's how they looked to the rest of the company—two executives locked in a dance of calculated precision.
The truth was far messier.
When the doors slid open, the 68th floor was quiet, the way it always was after hours. The day staff had left; only the low hum of climate control and the faint whisper of the evening wind against the windows kept her company. She strode down the corridor, heels clicking against marble, toward her corner office—the one with the floor-to-ceiling view of the city's heartbeat below.
She closed the door behind her and let the smile drop.
The glass tower was a marvel of modern architecture, but tonight, it felt more like a gilded cage.
Selene crossed to her desk and placed her files down with controlled precision, every movement deliberate. She hated the feeling of being cornered, yet Camille's words from earlier kept replaying in her mind:
"You can't expect loyalty from a man who sees you as a rival."
Camille had been looking at Julian when she said it, but Selene knew the barb was meant for her. The woman never missed a chance to sow discord. And Marcus—quiet, watchful Marcus—hadn't stepped in to stop her. That was unlike him.
Selene poured herself a glass of water and stood at the window, looking out at the city lights. She told herself she was fine, that nothing Camille said mattered. But the truth was harder to swallow: she wasn't afraid of Camille's schemes. She was afraid of how much Julian could ruin her if he chose to.
The sound of the door opening broke her thoughts.
She didn't have to turn to know who it was. His presence filled the room before he spoke, his steps steady, unhurried.
"You left the meeting early," Julian said, his voice a low rumble.
She didn't face him. "The meeting was over."
"Not for me."
There was something in his tone that made her turn. He stood near the door, hands in his pockets, dark suit immaculate, eyes unreadable. The city light painted sharp lines along his jaw.
"Then say what you came to say," she replied, her voice clipped.
Julian stepped closer, the soft sound of his shoes against the floor somehow too loud in the otherwise silent office.
"You've been avoiding me," he said.
"Correction—" Selene's lips curved faintly, though there was no humor in it "—I've been avoiding unnecessary conversations."
He studied her for a long moment, then leaned against her desk, too close for her comfort. "Camille's playing her own game. Marcus too. You know that."
Selene crossed her arms. "And you're warning me out of the kindness of your heart?"
"No," he said simply. "I'm warning you because when they move against you, I need to know if you're going to drag me down with you."
There it was—the knife without the pretence.
Selene didn't flinch. "If I fall, Julian, I assure you, I won't be the only one."
The air between them tightened. He didn't smile, didn't break eye contact, and for a moment, she wondered if he was daring her to make the first move.
"Good," he said finally, and pushed away from the desk. "Because I'd hate to waste my time on someone who folds at the first sign of pressure."
Selene didn't answer as he left, but she stayed at the window long after the door closed.
Her reflection stared back from the glass, and in it, she could almost see the faintest shadow moving through the city lights—a reminder that in the glass tower, nothing was ever as solid as it seemed.
---
Later That Night
The office floors emptied one by one until the building was nothing but darkened corridors and the occasional security light. Selene remained in her office, working through reports, though her mind kept circling back to Julian's words.
At midnight, she finally stood, stretching out the stiffness in her shoulders. She reached for her coat, but the faint sound of footsteps outside her door made her pause.
No one should be here this late.
She moved silently to the door and cracked it open. The hallway was dim, shadows spilling across the marble from the wall sconces.
At the far end, she caught the silhouette of a figure slipping around the corner.
Selene's pulse spiked. She knew most of the security staff by name; this wasn't one of them.
She stepped into the hall, heels muffled against the runner carpet.
The figure was gone by the time she reached the corner, but a faint sound—the soft click of an office door—led her toward the east wing. That section was mostly reserved for high-level executives, many of whom had long since left for the night.
One of the doors stood ajar.
Julian's office.
Selene's first instinct was to walk away. This wasn't her fight. But instinct was rarely what she followed.
She pushed the door open slowly.
Inside, the shadows seemed deeper. The city's lights barely reached the far wall, and the faint outline of a person stood by Julian's desk, rifling through a drawer.
Selene's voice was cool, deliberate. "I don't believe you have clearance to be in here."
The intruder froze, then straightened. Camille's face emerged from the shadows, her smile sharp as glass.
"Selene," she said smoothly. "Working late, I see."
"I could say the same," Selene replied, stepping inside. "Though I doubt your definition of 'work' involves breaking into a colleague's office."
Camille's eyes glittered. "Don't be so dramatic. I was simply… verifying some figures."
Selene's gaze drifted to the open drawer. "In Julian's private files?"
Camille closed it with a soft click. "You'd be surprised what kind of insurance one can find in a man's desk."
The implication was deliberate. Selene didn't rise to it, but she filed it away.
"Careful," Selene said quietly. "You're not as invisible as you think."
Camille's smile widened. "Neither are you, darling."
And with that, she swept past Selene and out into the corridor, leaving the faint scent of expensive perfume behind.
Selene stood alone in the dim office, her thoughts sharper than any blade. Camille was digging for leverage. That meant the storm wasn't just coming—it was already here.
And somewhere, in the mirrored glass of the tower, the shadows were moving.
---