The city lights bled through the rain, flickering like dying stars outside her window.
Ava Hart sat hunched over her cluttered desk, surrounded by sketches and half-finished blueprints. Coffee stains and broken pencils marked her quiet war against time—and failure.
It had been three months since her company collapsed.
Three months since her ex stole her designs and vanished with her trust.
"You're too emotional, Ava. No client wants art—they want control."His voice still haunted her, sharp and cruel, like the snap of glass underfoot.
She exhaled, shutting her laptop. Maybe tomorrow, she would try again—find another firm, send another résumé that would be ignored.
But then, in the silence, her phone buzzed.
A notification lit up her dark apartment.
[LUCAN CORPORATION]: Congratulations, Ms. Ava Hart. You have been selected as the Personal Interior Designer to CEO Ethan Lucan.Reporting time: 9:00 a.m. tomorrow. 68th Floor, Lucan Tower.
Ava froze.
Her pulse jumped.
She hadn't applied.
She hadn't even heard of this position.
Lucan Corporation.
Everyone in the industry knew that name—the empire built on steel, glass, and ruthless ambition.
And Ethan Lucan?
He was a legend.
A man rumored to destroy competitors with a single decision and make billions before breakfast.
So why her?
The next morning, the city was washed in grey.
Ava stood in front of Lucan Tower, its mirrored façade slicing through the clouds. The rain had stopped, but the air was heavy with something colder—expectation.
She clutched her portfolio, straightened her coat, and whispered,
"Just clear the misunderstanding, Ava. Then leave."
The elevator ride to the 68th floor felt endless.
When the doors opened, a long, quiet hallway awaited—carpet soft as snow, walls white as glass.
Only one door stood at the end.
She knocked, once.
"Excuse me, I'm Ava Hart. I think there's been a—"
"Come in."
A voice. Deep. Calm. Commanding.
The kind that didn't ask—it expected obedience.
The office was vast and minimalist, all glass and shadows.
A tall man stood by the window, his back to her. The skyline framed him like a painting—cold and perfect.
Ethan Lucan.
Even without turning, the aura was unmistakable.
"You're on time," he said, voice low, smooth.
"I—um, I think there's been a mistake," Ava stammered. "I never applied for—"
"You didn't have to."
He turned then.
And the world tilted.
Sharp features. Piercing grey eyes. A faint scar running along his jawline.
Everything about him was precision—controlled, dangerous, beautiful.
"I chose you," he said simply.
"Is that a problem?"
Ava blinked, her heart drumming too fast.
"Me? But why—"
He didn't answer. Instead, he placed a black folder on the desk between them.
"Read this."
His tone left no room for questions.
'Confidential Contract – Personal Designer Agreement.'
Her brows furrowed. "A confidentiality contract? What exactly am I designing?"
Ethan's lips curved slightly, the ghost of a smile.
"You'll find out soon enough."
Then he leaned forward, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
"But I'd prefer if you sign it… before you read it."
Ava's breath caught.
For the first time, she realized—
this wasn't just a job offer.
It was a trap dressed in silk and power.
And the man behind it… was already watching her like prey.
To be continued…