3. Red Ink and Razor Eyes

Vorian’s POV

I stepped out of my black Maserati, the morning sun hitting NexusVibe’s glass tower like a spotlight.

Silas slams the car door, grinning. “Vorian. Look at ‘em; employees practically kissing the ground you walk on.”

I glance at the lobby, where staff nod and scatter as we stride through. “They are just scared I will fire them if they screw up.”

“Cold-blooded,” Silas says, laughing as we hit the elevator. The doors slide shut.

“When is the new secretary starting?” I ask, leaning against the wall, my mind stuck on that red-ink envelope from last night.

“Zephyr Cole? Fifteen minutes,” Silas says, checking his watch. “Guy is sharp. Might even keep up with you.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You are e hyping him up too much. What is his deal?”

Silas smirks, eyes glinting. “He has got fire. Based on your taste, he might get to you.”

“My taste?” I say, smirking back. “My game is untouchable.”

“We shall see,” Silas utters, his smirk indicating he knows something I do not. My gut churns, but I push it aside. I do not need distractions, not with the AI transaction on the line.

The elevator dings, and we step into my office; glass walls, city sprawling below, my kingdom. I toss my jacket on the chair.

“Hold on,” I speak, cutting Silas off before he launches regarding meetings. I take out the envelope, its red scribble of my name shining beneath the light, and place it on my desk. “We gotta converse concerning this.”

Silas’s grin fades, his eyes locking on it. “Was gonna ask. What is the deal with that thing? You have been holding it like it is cursed.”

“Feels like it,” I say. “You remember the doorbell at dinner last night? Some shadow handed me this and bolted.”

Silas picks it up, flipping it over. “What does it say?”

“That is the problem,” I say, my voice low. “It is empty.”

“Empty?” Silas says, frowning. “That is messed up. You think Nathaniel Holt’s behind it? Man has been gunning for our AI deal.”

“Maybe,” I say, my jaw tight. “Holt is slimy enough for mind games. But this feels… off.”

“Off how?” Silas says, tossing the envelope back on the desk. “You got secrets I do not know about?”

I laugh, sharp. “I am a billionaire running an empire. Secrets are part of the deal. But this? It is too weird.”

“We will figure it out,” Silas says. “I will get security to check the cameras. Maybe we will catch the creep.”

“Do it,” I reply.

A knock at the door snaps me out of it.

“Come in!” Silas calls, glancing at me with a smirk. “That is your guy.”

“Stop overselling him,” I say, rolling my eyes, but my pulse kicks up.

The door swings open, and Zephyr Cole walks in. Damn. He is tall, lean, possessing dark hair that is precisely disheveled enough and eyes that strike like a sparkle; fearless, piercing, and way too intense. His suit fits him flawlessly, and the manner he walks, confident but fluid, makes my skin heat.

“Mr. Vorian,” Zephyr says, his voice steady, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. He steps forward, dropping a stack of files on my desk. “AI contract drafts. Thought you’d want them early.”

I lean forward, meeting his gaze, and hell, it is like a current runs through me. His eyes do not waver, challenging me, and my blood’s racing. “Early is good,” I say, my voice lower than I mean. “You always this efficient, Zephyr?”

“When it counts, Mr. Vorian,” he says, that smile sharpening, his eyes flicking to my mouth for a heartbeat. My chest tightens, and I am fighting the urge to step closer, to feel how close he would let me get.

Silas clears his throat, “Told you he his sharp, Vorian. Zephyr, do not let this guy scare you off.”

“Scare me?” Zephyr says, raising an eyebrow, his gaze still on me. “I do not scare easy, Mr. Silas.”

“Good,” I say, leaning closer, my voice dropping, teasing but hot. “Because I do not make it easy.”

Zephyr’s smile turns bold. “I can handle hard, Mr. Vorian.” His hand brushes the desk, inches from mine, and the air is so thick I can barely breathe.

“Alright.” Silas says, chuckling. “Zephyr, you have got Vorian’s schedule. Do not let him run you ragged.”

“I am ready for a challenge,” Zephyr says, his eyes locked on mine, and damn, I want to test that challenge right now. But then his gaze flicks to the desk, landing on the red-ink envelope. His face shifts; just a split second, but I catch it. A flinch, like he has seen a ghost.

“You okay, Zephyr?” I say, my voice sharp, watching him like a hawk.

Zephyr blinks, recovering fast. “Yeah, just… thought I saw something. Rough morning.”

“Rough morning?” Silas says, oblivious, checking his phone. “Well, you are in the big leagues now. Vorian, I will grab those camera feeds. Zephyr, good luck.”

“Get to work, Zephyr,” I say, my voice gruff, trying to shake the heat between us. “We have got an empire to run.”

“Yes, sir,” Zephyr says, his tone teasing, and he turns to leave, his stride too damn smooth.

Silas heads out, muttering about security, leaving me alone. I grab the envelope, staring at the red ink, Zephyr’s flinch replaying in my head. What was that? I rip it open again, checking, but it is empty. Then I see a tiny claw-mark symbol scratched on the flap. My heart pounds.

I glance at my desk, and there, under a file, is another note. Same red ink, same claw mark, my name scrawled. My phone rings, an unknown number flashing. I answer, my voice low. “Who is this?”

A voice, low and cold, hisses, “You are being watched, Vorian. Step carefully.” The line goes dead, and I am left staring at the note, Zephyr’s face burned in my mind.