The elevator doors hissed shut, sealing us in a box of mirrors and brushed steel. For a second, it was just the two of us. The air felt thin, smelling of Silas's expensive woodsy cologne and the faint, metallic scent of the machine. I could see our reflections—my messy dark hair and spiked collar standing next to his perfect, motionless silhouette.
Silas didn't press a button. He swiped a black card against a glowing sensor, and the elevator began to soar. My stomach stayed on the first floor.
"You're shaking," he said. He wasn't looking at me; he was watching my hands in the reflection of the glass.
"It's the caffeine," I lied, shoving my hands deep into the pockets of my leather trench coat.
"Is it?" He turned slowly, his gaze heavy and observant. "Most people who break into my galas are looking for a payout. A quick photo, a stolen watch, maybe a headline to sell to the tabloids. But you..." He stepped closer, his shadow swallowing mine. "You're looking for blood."
My heart skipped a beat. He was too smart. "You don't know anything about me, Silas Thorne. You see a girl in black and you think you've got me figured out."
"I know that your boots are worn out at the soles, but your lace corset is handmade and cost more than your rent," he whispered, stepping even closer until the toe of his polished shoe touched the edge of my platform boot. "I know you've been practicing that 'I-hate-the-world' stare in the mirror for weeks. And I know that when I touched your arm downstairs, your pulse hit 110."
He leaned in, his voice dropping to a dangerous, silky level near my ear. "Tell me the truth, Vexie. Who are you really? Because I don't think you're an investor, and I know you're not a model."
I felt the heat of him, the sheer power he radiated. I wanted to push him away, but my back was already against the cold metal wall. I reached up, my gloved hand resting against his chest—not to hug him, but to keep him back.
"I'm the girl you should have looked for before you started building your empire on top of people's lives,"
I hissed, my eyes locking onto his piercing blue ones.
The elevator dinged, a sharp sound that broke the trance. The doors opened to a penthouse that looked like a museum—vast, cold, and lonely.
"I'm your worst mistake," I said, stepping out onto his expensive carpet, my heavy boots leaving a faint mark. "You just haven't realized it yet."
He laughed—a short, dark sound that made the hair on my arms stand up. "I've made a lot of mistakes, Vexie. I'm starting to think you might be my favorite one."
He stepped out after me, the doors closing behind him. "Welcome to the lion's den,Little Shadow.Try not to get eaten."