Chapter 2

The alarm screamed at 5:30 AM.

I slapped it silent and stared at the ceiling for exactly ten seconds. That was all the weakness I allowed myself. Then I threw off the covers and became someone else.

Morning Vivian was armor.

I showered. Applied makeup with military precision. Foundation to hide the dark circles. Concealer for the evidence of last night's tears. Mascara. Lip color. War paint.

My suit was charcoal gray. Designer. Fitted to perfection. It cost more than my first car, but in this world, appearance was currency.

Hair went into a controlled twist at the nape of my neck. Not a strand out of place.

I looked at myself in the mirror. Gone was the woman who had knelt on the floor, begging, sobbing, coming apart. In her place stood someone untouchable.

This was the version of me that the world saw. The version that had survived two years as Alexander Kane's executive assistant.

The man was impossible.

I grabbed my bag and headed out the door. The coffee shop on the corner knew my order by heart. Large black coffee, one sugar, heated to exactly 180 degrees. Alexander's specifications.

The barista smiled at me. "Early again, Vivian."

"Always."

I arrived at Kane Industries at 6:45 AM. Fifteen minutes early. That was the rule. Alexander didn't tolerate lateness. He barely tolerated anything.

The building was forty floors of glass and steel. It gleamed in the early morning light like a blade. I'd worked here for two years, and it still intimidated me.

The elevator carried me to the top floor. Executive territory. Where the air smelled like money and everyone walked like they were being watched. Because they were.

Alexander's office dominated the floor. Corner position. Floor-to-ceiling windows. Views of the city skyline that probably cost more than most people's houses.

I pushed through the door without knocking. That was another rule. Don't knock. Don't hesitate. Just enter and be ready.

He didn't look up from his laptop.

"You're early," he said. Not a greeting. Just a fact.

"Always, Mr. Kane."

"The Henderson file. Page forty-seven. There's an error in the projections."

I stood there, his coffee in my hand, waiting for him to acknowledge me. To look at me. To say good morning, or thank you, or anything human.

He didn't.

"Fix it before the board meeting," he continued, still typing. "The numbers are off by three percent. That's unacceptable."

I set his coffee on the desk. "I'll have it corrected within the hour."

"See that you do."

I turned to leave.

"Vivian."

I stopped. Turned back.

He still wasn't looking at me. "Close the door on your way out."

That was it. No please. No thank you. No acknowledgment that I was a person rather than a function.

This was Alexander Kane.

He was brilliant. Everyone knew that. He'd built Kane Industries from a startup in his apartment to a global enterprise worth billions. Forbes loved him. Investors worshipped him. Competitors feared him.

He was also the most demanding, impossible, exacting man I'd ever met.

In two years, I'd watched seven assistants come and go before me. Some quit. Some were fired. One cried in the bathroom for an hour and never came back.

I was still here.

I didn't know what that said about me.

I took the Henderson file to my desk and started reviewing page forty-seven. He was right—the projections were off. By exactly three percent. How he'd caught that at 6 AM was beyond me.

The morning passed in a blur of emails and meetings. Alexander moved through the office like a storm, leaving demands in his wake. Coffee. Files. Updates. Reports. Everything now. Everything perfect.

I kept up. I always kept up.

But today my mind kept drifting.

How did Sir know about my meeting?

It was probably nothing. It had to be nothing. But the question gnawed at me.

At noon, I grabbed a sandwich from the break room and ate at my desk. No lunch hour when you worked for Alexander Kane.

"You look tired, Vivian."

I looked up. James Whitmore from accounting was leaning against my cubicle wall. Mid-thirties. Nice smile. He'd asked me to dinner twice. I'd declined both times.

"I'm fine."

"Late night?"

My stomach clenched. "Just didn't sleep well."

"You should get more rest. Kane works you too hard."

"I can handle it."

James shrugged. "Offer still stands. Dinner. Whenever you're free."

"Thanks, James. I'll let you know."

He walked away. Nice guy. Normal. The kind of man I should want.

So why did my mind keep drifting to a faceless voice in my earpiece?

I threw myself back into work. The Henderson file was fixed by 1 PM. The board meeting was at 2. I prepped Alexander's presentation materials, double-checked his notes, made sure everything was perfect.

At 1:45, I brought the final folder to his office.

He was standing by the window, staring out at the city. For a moment, I saw something on his face. Something almost human. Tired, maybe. Stressed.

Then he turned, and the mask was back.

"Is everything ready?"

"Yes, Mr. Kane."

"The Henderson numbers?"

"Corrected and verified."

"Good." He took the folder from my hands. His fingers brushed mine.

I felt it everywhere.

Just a touch. A microsecond of contact. But my body responded like it had been trained to respond.

Wet. Wanting. Ready.

What was wrong with me?

He's not Sir, I told myself firmly. Alexander Kane was not the man who commanded me in the dark. They were nothing alike.

Sir was attentive. Caring. He asked about my day. He worried about my stress.

Alexander Kane didn't see me as a person at all.

"Is there something else, Vivian?"

I realized I was still standing there. Frozen. Staring at his hands.

"No, Mr. Kane. Nothing else."

I turned and walked away. Quickly. Before I did something stupid.

As I reached the door, I felt it. The weight of his gaze on my back.

I looked over my shoulder.

He was watching me. Not my retreating form—me. His eyes met mine. And the expression on his face...

It was too intense. Too knowing. Like he was seeing something I kept hidden.

Like he was seeing Velvet.

I blinked, and it was gone. He looked down at his files like nothing had happened.

"Close the door behind you," he said.

I fled.

At my desk, I pressed my hands against my face and took deep breaths. I was losing my mind. That was the only explanation. Sleep deprivation was making me paranoid.

Alexander Kane was not Sir.

They couldn't be more different.

I repeated that to myself all afternoon. Through the board meeting, where I stood in the corner and took notes. Through the post-meeting chaos, where Alexander demanded seventeen follow-up items in fifteen minutes. Through the long slog of late afternoon, when the office emptied out and I stayed behind.

Alexander worked late. He always worked late. Which meant I worked late too.

By 7 PM, we were the only ones left on the floor.

The silence was heavy. Loaded. I could hear him typing in his office. The rhythm of his keystrokes.

I caught myself watching his hands through the glass partition.

Capable hands. Precise. The kind of hands that would know exactly where to touch—

Stop it.

I forced my eyes back to my screen. Answered emails. Pretended to be professional.

"Vivian."

His voice made me jump.

He was standing in his doorway. Jacket off. Sleeves rolled up. He looked tired. Almost human again.

"You can go home," he said. "It's late."

"I'll stay until you're done."

"That wasn't a suggestion."

I held his gaze. "Neither was my response."

Something flickered in his eyes. Surprise, maybe. Or something else.

"You look tired," he said. The same words James had used earlier. But from Alexander's mouth, they sounded different. "Late night?"

My heart stopped.

He couldn't know. There was no way he could know.

"I'm fine, Mr. Kane."

"Get some sleep." He turned back toward his office. "You have a presentation at 3 PM tomorrow."

I stared at his retreating back.

3 PM tomorrow.

Exactly what Sir had said.

Coincidence. It had to be coincidence.

But as I gathered my things and fled the building, I couldn't shake the feeling that Alexander Kane saw far more than he should.

And I couldn't decide if that terrified me or thrilled me.