The heavy doors of the Rolls-Royce closed, shutting out the chaos of the paparazzi and the screaming socialites.
Silence returned.
Elena slumped back against the leather seat. The adrenaline that had fueled her "performance" in the ballroom was fading, leaving her trembling slightly. Her hands, still clutching the empty champagne glass, were cold.
"You're shaking," Julian said. He didn't look at her; he was peeling another green apple with a small silver knife.
"I'm not shaking," Elena lied, steadying her hand. "It's just the air conditioning."
Julian chuckled darkly. He sliced a piece of apple and held it out to her on the tip of the knife.
"Eat. Sugar helps with the crash."
Elena hesitated, then took the apple slice. It was crisp, sour, and shockingly cold. She chewed slowly, feeling the sugar hit her bloodstream.
"You enjoyed that," Julian observed, his dark eyes finally turning to her. "Destroying him."
"I didn't destroy him," Elena said, staring out at the blurred city lights. "I just audited him. He destroyed himself the moment he spent my money on another woman's ring."
"And the Belmont girl?"
"Collateral damage. She's an idiot, but she's rich. She'll survive."
Julian wiped the knife with a silk handkerchief. "You are ruthless, Ms. Vance. I like that."
The car slowed to a halt. Elena looked out the window. They weren't at her old apartment (which she had sold anyway). They were in front of The Obsidian Tower, the most expensive residential building in Manhattan.
"Why are we here?" Elena asked, gripping her purse.
"Because you are homeless," Julian stated the obvious. "And my Chief Strategy Officer cannot be seen sleeping on a park bench."
The door opened. Julian stepped out and waited.
"Come. We have paperwork to sign."
The Penthouse, 88th Floor.
The view was breathtaking. All of New York lay beneath them like a glittering circuit board. The apartment was stark, modern, and devoid of warmth—much like its owner.
Julian poured two glasses of amber liquid. "Whiskey. Neat. You'll need it."
He slid a thick document across the black marble coffee table.
[EMPLOYMENT AGREEMENT: CLASSIFIED]
Elena picked it up. Her Data Eye instinctively scanned the clauses.
Base Salary: $500,000.
Stock Options: 2% of Blackwood Industries (Vesting upon successful bankruptcy prevention).
Role: Special Executive / Internal Auditor.
Clause 7: Complete obedience to the CEO.
"Obedience?" Elena raised an eyebrow. "I'm an executive, Julian, not a golden retriever."
"In my company, there is no difference," Julian took a sip of whiskey, watching her over the rim of the glass. "You have a talent, Elena. You see numbers where others see people. You see lies where others see smiles."
He walked around the table, leaning down until his face was inches from hers. She could smell sandalwood and danger.
"My family... is a nest of vipers. My stepmother, my cousins, my board of directors—they all want me dead or destitute. They are hiding debts, leaking secrets, and shorting my stock."
His eyes darkened.
"I don't need a manager. I need a Human Lie Detector. I need you to walk into my office tomorrow and tell me exactly who is loyal and who is a traitor."
Elena looked at the contract, then at the man.
He was dangerous. Working for him was like dancing on the edge of a cliff. But looking at the zeros on the salary line... and thinking of Arthur's terrified face...
"One condition," Elena said.
"Name it."
"I want full immunity. When I expose your family members, when I fire your cousins... I don't want you to stop me."
Julian smirked. It was the first time she had seen him genuinely smile. It was terrifyingly handsome.
"Elena," he whispered, "if you find a traitor in my family, I won't stop you. I'll hand you the gun."
He held out a fountain pen. It was heavy, black, and cold.
Elena took it. She signed her name in sharp, angular strokes: Elena Vance.
[SYSTEM ALERT] [NEW ALLIANCE FORMED: THE TYCOON] [POWER LEVEL: INCREASING...]
Julian picked up the contract. "Welcome to Blackwood Industries, Elena. Your office is next to mine. Do not be late."
He tossed a key card onto the table.
"Guest bedroom is on the left. The master bedroom is on the right. Do not mistake the two."
Elena stood up, smoothing her velvet dress. "Don't worry, boss. I don't mix business with pleasure."
Julian paused at the door to his room. He looked back, his gaze lingering on her bare shoulders for a fraction of a second too long.
"Neither do I," he lied. "Goodnight, Ms. Vance."
The door clicked shut.
Elena stood alone in the dark penthouse, the city lights reflecting in her glasses. She touched the cold diamond earring.
The game had just begun.