The elevator opened with a soft chime. Zaria stepped into the sleek, glass-lined hallway of Valentino Enterprises with her heart thudding loud enough to echo in her ears. Her black boots clicked against the marble floor as she walked, head high, even though her stomach was doing backflips.
"Penthouse floor," the receptionist had said. "Mr. Valentino is expecting you."
Expecting her.
Like this was just a normal job. Like she hadn't watched him order someone's death with a nod less than forty-eight hours ago.
She clutched her small tote bag tighter and paused in front of a set of double doors. No security guards, no buzzers, just cold silence.
Zaria raised her hand and knocked.
"Come in."
His voice was calm, smooth. The kind of calm that came before a storm.
Zaria stepped in.
The office was the size of her entire apartment — walls of glass, black leather couches, a massive desk that looked like it belonged in a villain's lair. And behind it, Ares Valentino.
Black suit. No tie. Sleeves rolled up like he'd just finished burying someone and was ready for a drink.
He didn't look up.
"You're three minutes late."
Zaria blinked. "Elevator took its time."
"Excuses are like sand. They slip through fingers. Try again."
She rolled her eyes "so should I fly here " but only in her mind. Out loud, she said, "Noted."
Ares finally looked at her. Those steel-grey eyes pinned her to the floor. "Come here."
Zaria's legs didn't listen at first. But she forced them forward until she stood across from him, her hands at her sides.
"You'll be assisting me directly," he said, leaning back in his chair. "You'll answer only to me. My schedule, my calls, my paperwork, my enemies. Everything. You'll know it all."
"Enemies?" she muttered.
He smiled — that small, dangerous curve of his lips. "Was that a problem?"
"No," she said. "Just trying to figure out if I get health insurance with the job." "If you like die I no care" she muttered
Ares chuckled. "You get something better. Survival tips."
He stood suddenly, tall and composed, and walked to a side cabinet. He opened it, revealing files — dozens, maybe hundreds. Some had red tabs. Others had pictures attached with paperclips. Some had bloodstains.
Zaria stared.
"Pick one," he said.
"What?"
"You said you were smart. Pick one. First lesson: Know what you're getting into."
She hesitated, then reached for a file with a photo sticking out — a man in his forties, with tired eyes and a scar across his cheek.
Ares nodded. "Vincent Cole. Arms dealer. Tried to double-cross me in Berlin. He's dead now."
Zaria dropped the file like it burned.
"Relax," Ares said, shutting the cabinet. "You won't have to kill anyone. Yet."
"Gee, how comforting."
He picked up a tablet and handed it to her. "Start with this. My schedule, today's meetings, documents needing my signature. You'll attend the 11 a.m. with me."
"And if I don't?"
"Then you'll be out before noon. And I don't mean fired."
Zaria forced a smile. "Bossy. Got it."
---
The meeting room was cold — both in temperature and energy. Three older men sat across from Ares, discussing shipment logistics. Zaria sat quietly beside him, taking notes, her eyes flicking from document to document.
She noticed how Ares didn't speak much. Just watched. Listened. And when he finally spoke, it was to say, "This plan leaks worse than a politician's promise. Fix it or lose the contract."
The men squirmed.
After they left, Ares leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled. "What did you see?"
Zaria blinked. "Excuse me?"
"In them. What did you observe?"
She hesitated. Then: "The second man, the one with the gold ring. He was sweating — even though it's cold. Nervous. He wasn't looking at you, he was looking at your reflection in the glass."
Ares stared.
"Means he's scared of you. And he was hiding something. He kept tugging at his sleeve every time the shipping port was mentioned."
Silence.
Ares smiled.
"Aren't you full of surprises."
Zaria tried to hide the flush rising to her cheeks. "You said you wanted me to observe."
"I did."
He stood. "We're going out."
"Out? hope I am safe"
"Don't worry, I'll let you sit in the front seat this time."
She frowned. "We going to lunch or war?"
"Depends on the appetizer."
---
They arrived at a private club in the heart of the city. Dark lighting. Velvet curtains. A pianist playing something slow and sad.
Zaria followed Ares inside, ignoring the way every head turned when he walked in. The staff bowed slightly. No one asked for his name. He belonged here.
They sat at a table in the back. Ares ordered for both of them without asking her preference.
"Control freak," she muttered.
"I heard that."
Good, who cares, she thought.
Midway through the meal, a woman approached their table. Blonde, tall, flawless — like a magazine cover stepped off the page. She leaned over Ares and kissed him on the cheek.
"Didn't know you had company," she said, her voice like poisoned honey.
Ares barely glanced at her. "Zaria, meet Celeste. A ghost from a life I no longer live."
Celeste's smile didn't reach her eyes. "Cute. She doesn't look like your type."
"Neither did you," he said.
Celeste's expression soured. She turned to Zaria. "Careful, darling. He bites."
Zaria smirked. "Good thing I've got sharp teeth."
Celeste left in a storm of perfume and high heels.
Ares chuckled. "You really are something."
Zaria sipped her drink. "She seemed fun."
"She used to be. Before she tried to drug me and sell my location to a rival cartel."
Zaria choked. "You're joking."
He wasn't.
---
By the time they got back to the office, dusk had fallen. Zaria felt like she'd aged three years in one day. As they entered the penthouse again, she paused.
Ares was staring at his phone, brows furrowed.
"What is it?" she asked.
He didn't answer. He walked to the window, watching the city lights.
Then he whispered, almost to himself: "They found the body."
Zaria froze.
Ares turned slowly. "You weren't followed today, were you?"
"No. Why?"
"Because if you were…" He walked up to her, voice low. "We're both already dead."
A soft beep interrupted them. A message on the screen flashed: WE KNOW WHAT SHE DID. SHE DOESN'T WALK AWAY.
Zaria's blood turned to ice.
Ares looked at her.
And then, quietly: "Pack your things. You're not going home tonight."