Day one.
I'm standing outside Sable Black headquarters at seven forty-five in the morning, clutching a travel mug of coffee I didn't taste, wearing a navy blue suit that cost more than my mother's monthly care.
Elara Vance would own a suit like this.
Elara Vance would walk into this building like she belongs here.
I took a breath then another.
Then I walked inside.
The lobby is the same as yesterday. Marble, water, expensive air. Marcus Holt is at the security desk. He nods when he sees me, just once in a professional way.
"Ms. Vance." He slides a key card across the counter. "Thirty-fourth floor. Your office is ready."
"Thank you."
He doesn't smile, I don't expect him to.
The elevator ride was quiet, too quiet that I could hear my own heartbeat.
Thirty-four floors, thirty seconds which took a lifetime.
The doors opened and Ingrid was there with a professional smile that never reached her eyes.
"Ms. Vance, welcome, please follow me."
She leads me down the same hallway as yesterday. But this time, we didn't stop at Croft's office. We keep going, passing his door around a corner. We took another hallway.
"Your office," she says, stopping at a door.
She opens it.
It's small. But it has a window, desk, computer, chair that looks comfortable enough and on the desk, a folder with my name on it.
"Elara Vance" in crisp black letters.
"Mr. Sable asked me to give you this," Ingrid says. "Your first assignment, he'd like it prioritized."
My stomach flips.
"Mr. Sable?"
"Your office is adjacent to his through that door." She points to a second door in my office, one I hadn't noticed. It was made of dark wood with no handle on this side. "He prefers to work closely with certain consultants and you're one of them."
I stare at the door.
"Any questions?" Ingrid asks.
"No thank you."
She nods and leaves.
I stand in my new office, staring at the door to Kael Sable's office, and try to remember how to breathe.
----
The morning passes quickly.
The folder contains lots of financial documents, the European merger, pages and pages of numbers, projections, valuations, and risk assessments which are the real work and important work. The kind of work a real consultant would do.
I'm not a real consultant.
I'm here to find proof that Kael Sable destroyed my father.
So I do what I'm supposed to do. I open files, read numbers, make notes but while I'm doing that, I'm also cataloguing.
Security badges whereby everyone on this floor has one with different levels of access. Mine is standard consultant level, it opens my office, the bathroom, the break room on the thirty-second floor. Nothing else.
Server locations which Jessa's intel said the main servers are on the forty-eighth floor which has restricted access with biometric locks and retina scans. I'll never get in there with my badge.
While the Biometric locks are in every door on this floor with hand scanners, the kind that read your palm print. I watch people use them all morning with a quick press and it shows a green light before the door opens.
I need a palm print.
I need a lot of things.
At noon, Ingrid appears with a salad. "Mr. Croft sends his regards. He's in meetings all day but wants you to know he's pleased you're here."
"Thank him for me."
She nods and disappears.
I eat the salad without tasting it.
At two, I got an email from Kael Sable.
How's the merger looking?
Three words, that's it.
I stare at them for five minutes.
Then I type back: Thorough.
His response comes immediately: Good, thorough is good.
I don't respond.
At four, I hear his voice through the door, talking to someone on the phone. I can't make out the words, but I can feel the rumble of them and it does something to my chest I don't want to examine.
At five, everyone starts leaving.
At six, the floor is quiet.
I should leave too. Normal people leave at six. Normal consultants go home to their normal apartments and their normal lives.
But I'm not normal.
And the door to Kael's office is slightly ajar.
I stood up walking to the door, putting my hand on it.
Don't do this.
I pushed it open.
His office is darker than mine. The sun is setting, casting long shadows across the glass desk, across the floor, across him.
He's standing by the windows. Same position as yesterday looking out at the city with his back to me.
He doesn't turn around.
"First day," he says quietly "And already working late."
I step inside the door clicking shut behind me.
"I'm thorough."
He turns.
Those citrine eyes find mine in the dim light. He's not wearing his jacket, just a white shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows. The coordinate tattoo on his wrist catches the last of the sun.
"You're lying," he says.
He stepped toward me but I didn't move.
"You spent all day cataloguing," he says taking another step "Access points, security levels and server locations."
Taking another step.
"You're not working on the merger, you're working on me."
He's close now, close enough that I could smell him. Cedar, soap and something darker underneath.
"Say something," he says quietly.
My throat is dry.
"You knew I'd do this."
"Of course I knew." Another step. We're inches apart now. "I told you I've been watching you for six months."
"Then why let me in? Why give me access to anything?"
He tilts his head studying my face.
"Because I want to see what you find."
"And if I find proof that you destroyed my father?"
Something flickers in his eyes, too fast to read.
"Then you'll have what you came for."
He reaches out.
Slowly. Like he's giving me time to move, to pull away, to stop him.
I don't move.
His fingers brush my wrist.
My pulse explodes.
He feels it, I know he feels it because his eyes drop to where his thumb is resting against my skin, right over the vein.
"You're scared," he murmurs.
"I'm not."
"You're terrified." His thumb presses slightly "your heart is racing."
"Because you're standing too close."
"Am I?"
He's not asking but challenging.
I lift my chin to meet his eyes.
"Yes."
He doesn't move and I didn't move.
Then his thumb moves.
Just a fraction. A small circle against the inside of my wrist.
My breath catches.
He notices, of course he notices. His eyes flick up to mine.
"Tell me to stop," he says quietly.
I should.
I should tell him to stop, step back or leave this office and never come back.
"Tell me to stop, Vale."
I open my mouth to say it, to tell him to stop.
Nothing came out.
He holds my gaze for a long moment then his eyes drop back to my wrist, to the tattoo there. Ursa Minor, the little bear which was my father's favorite.
His thumb traces the lines slowly like he's reading Braille.
"Ursa Minor," he says quietly.
My heart stops.
"How do you know that?"
"My brother had the same one."
I stare at him.
His thumb keeps tracing, around and around the constellation.
"Same placement, design and meaning." His voice is distant now."He said it was because no matter how lost you get, the little bear always points north."
My throat is tight.
"What happened to your brother?"
His thumb stops moving.
But he doesn't take his hand away.
"He died."
The words are simple and flat with no emotions but underneath them is something so heavy I can feel it in my chest.
"I'm sorry," I whisper.
He looks at me with those citrine eyes that are different now. Softer or maybe that's just the fading light.
"So am I."
For a moment, neither of us speaks.
His hand is still on my wrist, his thumb still resting against my pulse point. I should pull away….know I should pull away but I don't and neither does he.
"You should go home," he says finally. His voice is rough. "It's late."
I nodded but I didn't move.
He doesn't move either.
We stood there in the dim office, his hand on my wrist, my heart pounding against his thumb, the city glittering below us like a thousand tiny promises.
Finally, he steps back.
The loss of his touch feels like falling.
"Goodnight, Vale."
I force myself to breathe.
"Goodnight."
I walk to the door. My legs were unsteady while my hand shakes when I reach for the handle.
I don't look back.
But I feel his eyes on me the whole way.
The hallway is empty, same with the elevator and the lobby except for Marcus Holt at the security desk.
He nods as I pass. I nod back.
Then I'm outside on Sixth Avenue. The city at night was filled with lights, taxis, people and noise.
I lean against the building and close my eyes.
His hand on my wrist.
His thumb is tracing my tattoo.
His voice said my name.
I came here to destroy him.
I open my eyes.
But when he touches me, I forget why.
I forget everything except the heat of his skin against mine.