The door closed with a muted click. Silence reclaimed the room, predictable. Expected. Welcome.
I leaned back into the chair, fingers tapping a quiet, deliberate rhythm against the armrest. A method to center focus. Nothing more.
Across from me, Violette stood poised, hands folded neatly against the tailored line of her trousers. She knew I had no patience for small talk.
"Status of the simulation?" I asked, my voice cutting clean through the stillness.
She nodded once. Efficient. "Ready, Mr. Gravelle. The setup is in place at the hotel branch. Security is contained. Only a skeleton crew is aware."
"And the candidate?"
"Originally, Clara," Violette answered smoothly. Her tone remained neutral, but I caught the faintest glint of irony beneath it. "She withdrew after the last presentation. Heard whispers about the simulation parameters, perhaps."
Unsurprising. Weakness often announces itself early. I slid my phone across the table, pulling up the intern dossier. One name surfaced again, persistent.
Eris Moreau.
Amber honey eyes with gold flecks. Faster cognitive processing than the average. Pressure response? Not flawless, but... interesting.
A smile that presented itself easily. Eyes that calculated behind the curve of every expression.
"Moreau," I said aloud, isolating her name like a piece on a chessboard.
"Yes," Violette confirmed, unsurprised. "Strongest candidate after Clara's withdrawal. Analytical. Slightly impulsive, which could be an asset under real-time conditions. Maintains composure under moderate pressure."
I listened. No nodding. No reaction. Observation was my currency, not conversation.
I'd been watching her, through reports, cameras, glass walls. There was something about her that couldn't be distilled into metrics or graphs.
Instinct.
And I never dismissed instinct.
"Schedule it," I said at last. "Test her. Limit: seventy-two hours."
Violette noted it down without a word. Precise. Sharp. She understood what most people missed: silence wasn't absence; it was a tool.
I let the quiet stretch, fingers pausing mid-tap. In the distance, the sharp click of heels approached.
I glanced at my watch.
Right on time. As predicted.
Violette caught my eye, a silent question hanging between us. I gave her the slightest nod, permission, confirmation, whatever she needed it to be.
The knock came a second later. And I was already prepared.
Clarisse entered first, her confidence slicing through the room without apology. The click of her heels fractured the silence, sharp and deliberate.
I regarded her, for a moment.
As always, her appearance was immaculate.
Hair pinned flawlessly, lipstick in a shade few women could wear without appearing garish.
She understood image. She wielded it with precision.
But my attention... didn't linger.
Movement caught my eye, softer. More compelling.
Eris Moreau followed behind, a step slower, her face composed in an easy, calculated mask.
She believed she was hiding behind that casual facade, the faint smile, the lightness in her gait, but I caught the restless movement at her fingertips as she seated herself by the sofa's edge.
I didn't look at her for long.
Couldn't.
Just a passing glance. Like a predator measuring the distance to its prey.
Clarisse dropped elegantly into the chair across from me, every inch the poised strategist.
"Straight to business, Mr. Gravelle," she said sweetly, her voice layered with self-awareness. "I've prepared three scenario responses for potential fallout from the simulation."
Violette moved quietly to the side, positioning herself near Eris, an unobtrusive shadow.
I shifted my focus back to Clarisse, granting her the floor.
"First option," she continued, producing a thin folder from her handbag, "if the body is discovered earlier than projected, we frame it as a personal tragedy. A private incident, not a security failure." She lifted an eyebrow, sly. "Public empathy is the sharpest weapon."
I gave a slight nod. Approval, not encouragement.
"Second," she said, her voice cool and sure, "if news leaks before internal control is established..." A thin smile. Calculated. "We fabricate a whistleblower. Position Vanguard Corp as a proactive enforcer of accountability."
"And the third?" I asked.
Clarisse leaned back, at ease in the battlefield she'd mapped. "If the first two measures fail..." She allowed the silence to linger, bait. "We scapegoat a third party. Several candidates are in place, external suppliers, mostly."
I observed her, silent. The strategy was clean. Ruthless. Efficient. Exactly what was needed.
In the periphery, I caught Eris clasping her hands tightly together without realizing it.
I let my gaze drift for the briefest second.
Moreau was listening, closely. Processing. Calculating.
Good. I wanted her to hear.
"This scenario planning," I said finally, returning my attention to Clarisse, "will be tested with the field team. Including..."
A fleeting glance toward Eris, swift and cutting. "...a new variable."
Clarisse's eyes followed, sharp and perceptive. She smiled, small, knowing. Too clever to question it openly with Violette present.
She would assume Moreau was nothing more than a pawn. Let her. For now.
Clarisse closed her folder with a muted snap.
"I'm ready to assist whenever you need, Mr. Gravelle."
I nodded again, barely a movement.
From the corner of my eye, Eris shifted her gaze to the polished marble floor, feigning interest in its intricate pattern. Feigning distraction.
Almost convincing. Almost. The corner of my mouth threatened a smile. Almost.
But not yet.
Not now.
✦ 𝔈𝔯𝔦𝔰 𝔐𝔬𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔲 ✦
I sat stiffly on the sofa, knees pressed together, hands hidden in the folds of my skirt.
From the corner of my eye, I caught Violette standing not far from me, as rigid as a marble statue... if statues could judge you with just a stare.
I tried to relax. Come on, Eris. It's just an office. Just a simulation. Just...
The soft hum of Clarisse and Darian voices drifted from the desk. I didn't dare look up, but I caught snatches of words:
"personal tragedy,"
"fake whistleblower,"
"scapegoat..."
I swallowed hard. Okay, hold up. Why does this sound so serious? Weren't we supposed to be role-playing for a crisis management report or something?
But from the way they spoke... the words they chose… This wasn't a game.
Crisis mode: activated.
My mind kicked into overdrive. If they were talking at this level, it meant Vanguard Corp dealt with situations like this regularly. Which meant if I screwed up even a little during this "simulation"... God, could I be the scapegoat too?
My thoughts spun wildly, calculating risks, damage control strategies, potential escape routes, when a voice, smooth but sharp, sliced through my spiraling brain.
"First time on this floor, huh?"
Violette's tone was casual, but there was something slick beneath it. Like a velvet glove used to deliver a slap.
I lifted my head just slightly, flashing her my brightest, sweetest smile. "Yeah," I said lightly. "Totally different vibe here. Feels... crazy expensive."
Her eyes, a bright, almost silver-grey, scanned me with clinical precision. Testing. Probing for cracks.
"Not everyone fits in here," she said, nodding slightly, like she'd just confirmed some private theory.
Ouch.
I kept my smile alive, even made it a little brighter. "That's why I'm here. To learn. If everyone already knew everything from the start... this world would be so boring, wouldn't it?"
Her eyes narrowed just a bit. A flicker of something, approval, disdain, I couldn't tell.
But I knew one thing:
She didn't want me here.
Good.
Because I wasn't exactly a fan of being looked at like I was dirt on her heels either.
I sneaked a glance toward Darian's desk, just a quick, stolen glance, and wow, how did he still look so composed while casually discussing things like fake whistleblowers and throwing people under the bus?
I shifted slightly, pinching the edge of my skirt between my fingers to anchor myself. Stay calm, Eris. Stay professional.
I couldn't, wouldn't, lose control here. Not in front of someone like Violette.
Only one way to survive: Smile. Think fast. And never, ever let them see you flinch.
I was too busy spiraling, running through every possible disaster scenario, from mild embarrassment to full-blown intern ruins Vanguard's reputation tabloid headlines, when that deep voice snapped me back to reality.
"Miss Moreau."
My head jerked up automatically. And there he was. Darian.
Standing. Standing, and walking toward me.
I scrambled to my feet, moving a little too stiffly, feeling like a tiny baby chick suddenly approached by a giant, black-winged hawk.
Relax, Eris. He's just a human. A gorgeous, tall, expensive-smelling, potentially lethal human... but still human.
I snuck a quick glance around. Clarisse? Gone. Vanished like smoke. Since when did she leave? I didn't even notice. Great, one diva exits, and the Big Boss enters.
As he closed the distance between us, it hit me: He wasn't just tall. He had presence.
Heavy, cold, suffocating presence, the kind that clings to your skin and squeezes the air from your lungs.
I caught his scent, sharp and clean, like expensive laced with something... dangerous.
It made my head spin a little. Or maybe that was just my heart doing something incredibly stupid.
I tilted my chin up, forcing myself to focus on his eyes, those unreadable grey eyes. Not his jawline. Not his lips. Not his ridiculously broad shoulders that looked a bit too inhumanly perfect.
"Yes, sir?" My voice came out softer than I meant it to.
He stopped one step away. Too close. If I leaned forward even slightly, I could probably count his eyelashes.
"You're coming with us to the simulation site," he said quietly, voice low and smooth like a dark river flowing at midnight. "Your task is critical. I want you to observe every detail."
I blinked.
Now? I hadn't even fully processed the words body simulation from earlier, and now we were just... going?
I opened my mouth to ask, to buy some time, but then he looked at me. And whatever words I had froze, turned to dust.
He didn't intimidate me the way you'd expect. Not by glaring. Not by raising his voice.
No, it was worse. He was too calm. Too still.
Like he had already mapped out every possible move I could make... and knew exactly how to counter it.
"Understood, sir," I managed to say, pulling myself together. I hooked a small, sunny smile onto my face, relaxed, bright, even though internally my brain was lighting up like a five-alarm fire.
He dipped his head slightly, as if inspecting me. And I swear, I could feel heat crawling up from my ears to my neck.
Not because I had a crush.
No way.
But seriously, who could stay normal standing this close to a man who looked like he had been handcrafted by some demented, evil-angel version of Michelangelo?
He gave a slight nod, then turned toward the door. "Follow me," he said, without looking back. And like an idiot, I did.
Because in this room, in this world, one tiny mistake could cost me a hell of a lot more than just my pride.
I trailed a few steps behind him. Like a shadow. Like a clueless baby chick accidentally dragged into an elite seminar for eagles.
Darian moved without a sound, but every step felt like a command: sharp, precise, utterly deliberate. I was just trying to keep my wobbly legs steady and my ego upright. Stay cool, Eris. Stay cool. Too bad I'd apparently forgotten how breathing worked.
On our right, Violette walked alongside us, silent, unreadable, deadly calm. She didn't speak. Didn't even glance my way. But somehow... her silence screamed judgment.
I could feel it. She was thinking. Analyzing. Stacking up mental notes about me like an accountant tallying someone else's failures.
And I hated it. God, I hated it.
We were just about to reach the elevators when that deep voice cut through the air, calm, smooth, way too controlled.
"You look tense, Miss Moreau," Darian said. "Didn't you already know the plot would move forward?"
I stumbled slightly.
I'm sorry, what?
"The plot"? My brain scrambled to catch up.
If he meant the dead-body-simulation thing? Sure, I knew. But if he meant me getting dragged into it firsthand, on-site, in God-knows-what conditions?
No, sir. That memo definitely got lost in transit.
I was still fumbling for words when he turned his head, just a little, glancing back at me. Time slowed. And for a second… He looked almost…
Confused?
"You didn't know?" he asked, voice dropping so low it was practically a whisper. There was a beat.
"Then... what exactly were you doing when you were spying on me and Miss Rianne in the pantry?"
...
WHAT.
THE.
HELL.
My chest locked up. Frozen. Heart punching straight into my throat. He knew? He KNEW?
Okay, Eris. Breathe. You can fix this. You can fix anything. Smile. Always smile.
"I... wasn't spying, sir," I said quietly, dragging out every ounce of professional calm I had left, even as my cheeks started to burn. "I just... happened to pass by. And... technically paused. But it wasn't inten…"
"You paused?"
He stopped walking. Dead. And I almost ran into him. He turned his shoulders slightly toward me, those gray eyes locking onto mine, closer now.
Deeper.
"Paused because of what?" he asked.
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
"Because... I was curious," I said finally, voice light but steady. "Curious why two very important people in the company would be... doing something like that in a pantry."
Please, dear God, don't let anyone misquote me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Violette flick her gaze toward me, sharp enough to slice the sun in half. But I kept my eyes on Darian. Because if I broke eye contact now, I would lose.
And him?
He tilted his head just slightly, like he was peeling back the layers of my mind one by one, reading folders I never, ever wanted anyone to touch.
"In that case," he said, turning back and starting to walk again, "this time you can stop, not to spy, but to learn."
"From the real field."
"This simulation will be your training, Miss Moreau. Both as an analyst... and as a human being."
...
Holy.
Shit.
The words sounded ordinary. But the way he delivered them? It felt like being slowly strangled... with a silk ribbon.
And me?
I smiled, bright and easy, like none of it rattled me. I walked after him.
Because here, in this place, in this world, one small mistake could cost me a hell of a lot more than just my dignity.
But why was he so... calm?
I mean, I literally just got caught, technically, spying on an intimate moment between him and his secretary, Violette, who, by the way, looked too perfect to belong on this planet, and what was he doing now?
Breathing. Normally. No tension, no guilt, no flinching like someone who just got busted doing something they shouldn't.
Nope. Instead…
"If you were there," Darian said, voice maddeningly steady, "you should've heard our conversation."
Like we were talking about... the weather.
I swallowed hard.
"Y-yeah... I caught bits of it," I said, trying to sound like a lost professional, not some amateur peeping-tom.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Darian glancing toward Violette. She, of course, nodded. Once. Slow. Precise.
...
Wait.
Nodded?
They… But back then, weren't they…?
My face flared up again. Okay. I needed to ask. Had to. But... not in a crazy way. I'm not about to just accuse my boss and his right-hand woman of making out in the pantry.
"Sorry... This might sound weird but..."
"But it kinda looked like you two were… kissing?"
NO, ERIS, NO. REWIND.
"...I just mean... the position you were in... didn't seem like you were discussing simulations."
Good. That sounded neutral. Diplomatic.
But their reaction…
Silence.
They stared at each other. Not with panic. Not with anger. But with this look like they were about to laugh.
I held my breath. God, please, please tell me I didn't just hallucinate a whole forbidden office romance. Please.
Then Violette, moving like a cocktail party queen who knew exactly how much damage her words could do, shook her head slowly.
"My taste... is a little higher than that," she said, voice light as air.
But sharp.
I froze. Not because of what she said. But because I knew exactly who she was talking about: Darian.
And him?
Darian?
Turned his head slightly toward her. His eyes narrowed, just a fraction.
"I'm sorry, do I sound like a poor option?"
"Not poor," Violette answered, effortlessly calm, "just... too familiar. And I'm not interested in anything I can control."
BOOM.
It was like watching a piano duel, two master players throwing sharp notes back and forth, and me? I was just the waitress who wandered into the wrong concert hall.
"So..." I cut in, trying to slice through the paper-thin tension strangling my neck,
"What I saw... was wrong?"
"Completely wrong," Darian said, fast. "Poor angles lead to poorer assumptions, Miss Moreau."
His gaze pinned me. Direct. Unflinching.
"And assumptions kill faster than our simulations." I swallowed again.
Okay. New mental note: No more spying.
Also, maybe stop guessing who's kissing who around here unless I enjoy getting verbally obliterated.
But… If they weren't kissing...
Then why were they standing that close?
And why the hell did the air between them feel practically romantic?
Wait. Don't tell me… Was that part of the simulation, too? Honestly? It was probably safer if I never found out. Ever.
I thought it would be over after that so-called "clarification."
I thought we could just walk out like normal people to the parking lot, get in the car, and head straight to the branch hotel for this ridiculous simulation.
But life clearly never liked making things easy for me. We walked, the three of us—Darian in front, me in the middle, Violette trailing just a few steps behind.
And with every step I took, I could feel it… The stare. From Violette.
Not the casual "oh, look, a new intern" kind of glance. No. It was the "you might be cute, but I could crush you in two sentences" kind of stare.
I shifted a little, trying my damn best to look cool. Yep. Never show fear, Moreau.
"You're lucky," Violette's voice cut through the air like the click of her stiletto heels against the marble floor.
I turned slightly, just enough to catch her smile. A beautiful smile. Too beautiful for something that tasted this much like a warning.
"Not everyone gets a chance this fast," she said, tilting her head just a little, her platinum hair catching the lobby lights like silk. "You better not disappoint him."
Him.
Of course she meant Darian.
I blinked once, then flashed her my best sweet, sincere, politely professional smile, the one that could paper over the chill creeping up my spine.
"I'll do my best," I said lightly. "Madam Rousseau always said, opportunity knocks only once."
If quoting a rich old lady could save me from whatever passive-aggressive storm this was, then by God, I'd quote a hundred.
Violette let out a soft, breathy laugh.
Elegant.
But not the kind of laugh that made me relax. More like the kind you hear just before someone tips your chair backward off a cliff.
I inhaled quietly. Fine. If she wanted to play games… I could play too.
I flicked a glance toward Darian. Still walking ahead. Still relaxed.
But… There was something. The way his shoulders were set. The slight tilt of his head, like he was listening.
He was paying attention.
I had no idea what was going through his mind. Did he hear Violette's little daggers? Did he notice the way I'd practically been holding my breath for the last five minutes?
Or was he just quietly enjoying this little show?
One thing was certain: There was something about the way he glanced back at me, quick, sharp, that sent a weird twist through my stomach. Not fear. Not even embarrassment.
More like… Oh God, please don't let me pass out.
His cologne, something cool and expensive layered over cedarwood, still lingered faintly in the air, mixing with the heavy, echoing sound of his steps against the marble floor.
I straightened my back. Focus, Eris.
You have to.
Otherwise, you'd slip, fall, sink right into their world. The world of people born to dominate. And if you lost your footing even once... you'd be crushed before you even knew it.
"You have an interesting expression," Violette remarked again, her voice slicing like glass against my skin.
I widened my smile. "Thank you. People say it's my best asset." I even threw in a little wink, playing dumb, playing harmless.
Violette arched a perfect brow. Impressed? Disgusted? Who knew.
Before I could gauge her reaction properly, Darian suddenly stopped ahead of me. I almost crashed into him.
He half-turned toward me.
His eyes… Gray. Flat. But deep enough to drown in if you weren't careful.
"We're leaving now," he said, voice crisp.
I nodded quickly, barely avoiding stepping on my own foot. And for just one second longer than necessary, he looked at me.
As if reading every thought tucked behind my smile. As if deciding whether I was worth bringing into whatever silent war they were waging.
I didn't know what conclusion he reached. But one thing was clear… My heart was beating a little faster than it should.
And damn it… I was pretty sure Darian Gravelle knew that.