When the clock finally struck six, the release was not a relief.
"You're dismissed," Delan said, his voice returning to a cool, professional tone. "Change. I don't like to be kept waiting."
Avana scrambled back into the dressing room. When she pulled her own baggy sweater back on, it felt like useless armor. The ghost of the silk lingered on her skin. She emerged from the office, eyes glued to the floor, and hurried through the now-empty hallways of Vanguard Architecture.
Every sound made her jump. The hum of the elevator felt like Delan's voice. The reflection in the glass doors looked like a stranger. As she reached the street, she clutched her bag to her chest. She hated the necklace. She hated the red dress. She hated the power he held. But as she walked toward the subway, she realized with a sickening jolt of adrenaline that she was already counting the hours until tomorrow morning.
The heavy glass door of the CEO's suite clicked shut, the sound muffled by the thick, sound-dampening insulation of the executive wing. Delan Vane didn't move from his position by the floor-to-ceiling windows. He stood like a dark statue against the backdrop of the city's glowing skyline, watching through the glass as a small, hurried figure emerged from the lobby far below.
From this height, forty stories up, Avana looked even smaller—a tiny speck of black and grey against the concrete. Her shoulders were hunched, her head ducked low, as if she were trying to fold herself into the shadows of the evening and vanish before the world could see the "Ghost Intern" for what she had become.
Delan reached into the pocket of his tailored trousers and pulled out his phone. He swiped through the photos he'd taken—not the "documentation" he had threatened her with, but shots that captured a raw, cinematic vulnerability. Avana's wide, panicked eyes; the way the crimson silk of the dress rested against the pale pulse point of her neck; the sharp, intoxicating contrast of her shy, innocent face against the scandalous cut of the clothes he had forced upon her.
"Model intern," Delan whispered to the empty, silent room. His voice was devoid of its usual rehearsed, corporate warmth. It was cold, deep, and laced with a terrifyingly honest obsession.
He walked to his desk—a massive slab of obsidian-colored wood—and sat down. He didn't open his laptop or review the blueprints for the upcoming skyscraper project. Instead, he opened a hidden digital partition on his computer, protected by a passcode only he knew. Inside wasn't a stash of company secrets or black-market accounts. It was a digital dossier on Avana.
He had been collecting information for months. He had her original internship application, her college transcripts, her daily log-in times, and even a scanned copy of a doodle she had left on a napkin in the breakroom once. He knew she was an orphan. He knew she lived in a crumbling district that Vanguard Architecture was planning to "redevelop" into luxury lofts.
The sapphire necklace hadn't been "found" in Avana's bag by accident. Security hadn't just happened to stumble upon it. Delan had placed it there himself, a three-million-dollar golden hook designed to catch the only person in the entire building who refused to look him in the eye. Everyone else in the company preened for his attention, desperate for a nod or a promotion. But Avana? She treated him like a dangerous sun, staying as far away as possible to avoid being burned.
He couldn't allow that.
Delan leaned back, his gaze falling on the guest list Avana had been working on. The handwriting on the tablet was shaky at the start, but where he had guided her hand, where his skin had touched hers, the script had become fluid and beautiful.
Everyone loved Delan Vane, but no one knew him. They loved the "Obsidian Architect," the visionary, the billionaire who turned steel into gold. They loved the mask. But in Avana's eyes, when she was terrified and dressed in that red silk, Delan saw something real. He saw a reflection of his own hidden, darker nature—the primal need to control, to possess, and to be seen for the monster he felt he was underneath the three-piece suits.
He looked at the last photo he had taken before she changed. Avana had been looking up at him, a mix of humiliation, fear, and a strange, budding curiosity in her gaze.
His thumb traced the screen, moving over the curve of her lips.
"You think this is a punishment, Avana," Delan murmured, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his face as the city lights twinkled in his dark irises. "But you have no idea how much I'm punishing myself just by letting you walk out that door tonight."
He wasn't just drawn to her vulnerability; he was drawn to the way she endured. Most people crumbled under his pressure or tried to negotiate their way out of his traps. But Avana stayed quiet, resilient, and oddly pure despite the poverty she came from. She was the one thing in his life he hadn't built, and therefore, she was the one thing he had to own.
He picked up the sapphire necklace from the desk, the stones cool against his palm. It was no longer just a piece of jewelry; it was a tether. He had exactly fourteen hours until she had to report for her morning shift. Fourteen hours to decide just how far he was willing to push the "PA" persona before he broke the girl underneath—or before he fell for her entirely.
He stood up and walked back to the window. The city looked like a circuit board, and he was the one controlling the current.
"See you in the morning, my little thief," he whispered.
He didn't leave the office for hours. He stayed there, sitting in the dark, watching the spot where she had disappeared into the subway, already imagining the dress he would make her wear tomorrow. He would choose something even shorter, something that would make her blush so deeply she wouldn't be able to speak. He wanted to see her break, and then he wanted to be the only one there to put the pieces back together.
It wasn't just an obsession anymore. It was architecture. He was building a new life for her, one where she only existed for him. And like everything Delan Vane built, he intended for it to last forever.