Blinding Light

The  blinding glare of the morning sun reflected through the floor-to-ceiling windows pulled me awake. I blinked against the brightness, a sharp pain shooting through my temples as a dull, thumping ache settled right behind my eyes. I groaned, reaching out blindly with a stiff arm for my phone on the glass side table.

The glowing screen read 10:14 AM.

My heart instantly dropped into my stomach, dropping like lead. "Shit!"

I bolted upright so fast my head spun, a sudden wave of dizziness making the room tilt. Vivian was still fast asleep under a plush throw blanket nearby, completely undisturbed. Throwing off the covers, I hurried into her guest bathroom, splashing freezing cold water onto my face to wash away the dried tears and soothe my swollen eyelids. I pulled on an off-white, two-piece tailored suit I borrowed from her closet. The fabric was crisp, fitting snugly across my shoulders and pulling my posture upright whether I wanted it to or not.

Fifteen minutes later, my knuckles were wrapped around  the steering wheel as my car weaved through the congested downtown traffic toward the soaring glass tower of Hayes Corporation. My foot pressed hard on the accelerator, my adrenaline spiking with every red light.

I swept through the grand marble lobby, my heels clicking sharply against the polished floor. I kept my chin held high, deliberately ignoring the curious, whispered glances from the staff near the reception desk. Sweeping past them, I stepped into the private executive elevator and punched the button for the top floor. Standing in the mirrored lift, I straightened my lapels, took a deep, steadying breath to smooth down my blazer, and forced my face into a mask of total composure.

The elevator doors slid open. I strode down the quiet corridor and pushed open the heavy double doors to my private office.

I froze instantly, the air catching in my throat.

A man was standing near my floor-to-ceiling window, casually swirling a fine porcelain cup of espresso. Hearing the click of the door, he turned around with a smooth, deliberate grace that immediately commanded the space.

"Who are you?" I demanded, my breath hitching as my hand tightened violently on the leather strap of my bag. My guard went up instantly, every instinct in my body flaring with defensive tension. "What are you doing in my office?"

The man smiled, unbothered by my hostile tone. He was exceptionally tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit that clung perfectly to a lean, powerful frame. His dark hair was brushed back cleanly, highlighting a sharp, razor-edged jawline and striking, intense grey eyes.

Those eyes locked onto mine, taking me in completely—from my wind-ruffled hair down to my borrowed heels—in a single, calculating glance that made the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

"Good morning, Mrs. Hayes," he said, taking a slow, measured step forward.

His voice was a deep, velvety baritone that echoed smoothly against the glass walls. The rich sound hit me like a physical touch, sending an unexpected, prickling shiver straight down my spine and leaving a sudden, breathless heat lingering in the pit of my stomach.

He inclined his head slightly, a subtle, intriguing smirk touching his lips as his dark gaze held mine captive. "I’m Julian Vance. Your new personal assistant."

My personal assistant?” I echoed, my hand freezing on the strap of my leather bag as I blinked up at him. “You look less like an administrator and more like a model pulled straight off the cover of GQ.”

I moved behind my desk and lowered myself into the heavy leather chair, unable to completely disguise the sharp flick of curiosity in my eyes.

“You’re quite generous, Mrs. Hayes,” Julian replied. A faint, slow smile tugged at the corner of his lips, revealing a dimple near his sharp cheekbone. His velvety voice dipped an octave lower, amusement dancing in the dark depths of his eyes.

“And who brought you in?” I leaned back, folding my arms tightly across my chest, the cold silk of my blazer brushing against my skin. “Who hired you without running it past my desk first?” I narrowed my eyes, assessing the tailored perfection of his silhouette.

“Human Resources, ma'am. Your previous assistant was let go yesterday evening. Given my credentials, the department requested I step in immediately.” He spoke with absolute composure, holding my gaze without so much as a nervous blink.

“I see. And your name again, Mr…?” I trailed off, lifting a sharp brow as I waited for him to fill the silence.

“Julian Vance,” he introduced smoothly. He gave a slight, elegant tilt of his head, his hands resting easily at his sides.

“All right, Mr. Vance. Put your things at the outer desk and get to work.” I picked up a thick financial dossier from my desk, effectively dismissing him with a brief gesture of my hand.

He offered a subtle nod before stepping backward out of the office, his footsteps making almost no sound on the plush rug.

I stared down at the open pages of the report, but the printed numbers instantly bled together. The silence of the office amplified the racing of my pulse, and the only thing echoing through my mind was the toxic blueprint Nathan had laid out the night before.