The elevator doors opened, and Amelia stepped onto the polished marble floor of Blake Conglomerate's executive wing. The morning sun streamed through the glass walls, catching the faint dust motes like gold sparks, but it did nothing to warm her.
She had never felt smaller in her life. Suited employees moved with smooth efficiency, their eyes flicking toward her with polite curiosity, and she realized immediately that she didn't belong here.
Maybe not yet.
Adrian's office loomed ahead, a wall of glass, marble, and steel. Inside, he sat behind his desk, as always calm, precise, a man carved from control itself. She wanted to speak to him, to ask where she should start, but even the thought of opening her mouth made her stomach tighten. He didn't invite conversation. He didn't give cues. He simply existed, and that existence demanded compliance.
"Amelia," Adrian said finally, his voice flat, neutral, a blade wrapped in velvet. "You will not start as my secretary today."
