Five years ago, Selene Voss had everything.
A home. A family. A future.
Then Dorian Black signed one piece of paper.
And everything was gone.
The Black Industries building was the tallest in London.
Of course it was.
Selene stood on the pavement outside, looking up at it. Glass and steel, cold and perfect, touching the grey London sky like it owned it.
He probably thinks he owns the sky too, she thought.
She adjusted the strap of her bag, took one long breath, and walked in.
The lobby was enormous. White marble floors. High ceilings. Employees walking fast, talking quietly, all of them wearing the same expression — focused, tense, slightly afraid.
Afraid of him. She knew that look. She had seen it on her father's face once, a long time ago.
She would never forget it.
"Name?"
The receptionist at the front desk was looking at her. Young, sharp, professional.
"Sara Ellis," Selene said smoothly. "I have a nine o'clock interview. Assistant position, executive floor."
The receptionist typed something. Checked her screen.
"Sixth floor. Room 602. Take the lift on your left."
"Thank you."
Selene walked to the lift, stepped in, and watched the lobby doors close in front of her.
The moment she was alone, her smile disappeared.
Sara Ellis was not her real name. Her real name hadn't existed in London for five years. She had buried it carefully — along with everything else Dorian Black had taken from her.
The lift moved upward.
She looked at her reflection in the polished metal doors. Dark blazer. Hair pulled back. Calm face. Steady eyes.
She had practiced this face for months.
You are Sara Ellis, she told herself. You are twenty-three years old. You are the best assistant he has ever interviewed. You are nobody he needs to worry about.
Yet.
The lift stopped. The doors opened.
Room 602 had six other candidates waiting outside it.
All of them looked nervous.
Selene sat down, crossed her legs, and opened her phone like she had nowhere more important to be.
One by one, the candidates went in.
One by one, they came back out — pale, shaken, not making eye contact with anyone.
The girl next to Selene leaned over. "Is it bad in there?" she whispered to the girl who had just come out.
"He rejected me in forty seconds," the girl whispered back. "Didn't even look up from his desk."
Selene's jaw tightened.
Of course he didn't.
Dorian Black had destroyed her father's company in one meeting. Fifteen years of her father's life — gone in forty minutes, because Dorian hadn't found it interesting enough to keep.
Forty seconds to reject a person. Forty minutes to destroy a family.
That was who he was.
"Sara Ellis."
Her name — her fake name — called from the doorway.
She stood up. Smoothed her blazer. Walked in.
The office was exactly what she had expected.
Large. Expensive. Designed to make whoever walked in feel small.
He was sitting behind the desk, reading something. He didn't look up when she entered.
Selene had also expected that.
What she had not expected was him.
She had seen photographs. She had studied him for months — his schedule, his habits, his company, his life. She knew his face better than she knew most people she had actually met.
But photographs had not prepared her for this.
Dorian Black was — there was no professional way to say this — devastatingly, unfairly, almost annoyingly good looking. Sharp jaw. Dark hair. Broad shoulders in a perfectly fitted black suit. The kind of face that made you forget, just for a second, what you had walked into the room for.
Just for a second.
Selene sat down in the chair across from him without being invited to.
He still didn't look up.
"I didn't say sit," he said.
"I know," she replied. "I sat anyway. I find interviews go faster when both people are comfortable."
He looked up.
His eyes were dark. Sharp. The kind of eyes that didn't miss anything.
He looked at her the way she imagined he looked at everything — like he was already calculating whether it was worth his time.
"You have no experience as an executive assistant," he said, looking back at whatever he was reading.
"I have no experience as your executive assistant," she corrected. "I have three years of experience managing a director at Hartwell & Co. I speak four languages. I have never missed a deadline in my life. And I am, if you'll forgive me saying so, significantly more qualified than the six people you rejected before me."
Silence.
He turned a page.
"Hartwell & Co closed eight months ago," he said.
"Yes," she said. "Which is why I'm here and not there."
Another silence. Longer.
"Why do you want this position specifically?" he asked. Still not looking at her.
Because you destroyed my family and I have spent five years planning exactly how to destroy you back.
"Because," she said calmly, "Black Industries is the most powerful company in London. And I don't believe in working for anything less than the best."
He finally looked up again.
This time, he really looked at her.
Selene held his gaze and did not blink.
Look at me, she thought. Look right at me. You have no idea who I am.
Something shifted in his expression. Not much. Just a fraction.
"Monday," he said. "Eight AM. Don't be late."
She blinked. "I have the position?"
"If you're late on Monday, you won't." He looked back down at his papers. "Close the door on your way out."
Selene stood up slowly.
She picked up her bag.
She walked to the door.
And right before she closed it, she let herself — just for one tiny, private moment — smile.
I'm in.
Outside the building, she pulled out her phone and called the only number that mattered.
It rang twice.
"Well?" The voice on the other end was quiet. Careful.
"I got the job," Selene said.
A long pause.
"Selene—"
"It starts Monday." She looked up at the Black Industries building one last time. Tall, cold, perfect. His.
For now.
"Be careful," the voice said.
"I will," she said.
She put her phone in her pocket and walked away into the London crowd.
Behind her, the building stood exactly as it always had.
It had no idea what was coming.