The Ghost Of Wall Street : Twisted Vows

They say there are a thousand horrible ways to die in Manhattan. On this rainy Friday night, falling sixty stories from a skyscraper balcony into the raging storm below almost felt merciful compared to facing the man waiting inside.

“Vivian, hurry the f*ck up. The system reboots in three minutes!” Markus’s voice crackled through my AirPods.

My fingers flew across the sleek keyboard in the dark office. The monitor’s blue glow lit the keys as the progress bar crept forward.

Downloading Project Genesis… 30%… 78%… 85%.

Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, New York had vanished behind sheets of rain as water streamed down the office glass, blurring the skyline beneath the steady rumble of thunder.

I paused long enough to draw a breath and scanned the room. My eyes had been locked on the computer screen since I slipped inside. That’s when I saw it.

A tailored suit jacket hung over the back of a leather chair a few feet away. Beside it, a crystal glass of scotch sat on a stool next to an open file. A lone ice cube drifted through the amber liquid, turning slowly as it melted.

My stomach tightened. The ice cube was still melting. A thin trail of water ran down the side of the glass onto the stool. Someone had been here minutes ago.

I swallowed hard, trying to force down the panic crawling up my throat, and tapped my AirPod. “Markus, please hold the security cameras down for a few more seconds. I’m almost done.”

No response.

“Markus, do you copy?” I whispered. “Come on, Markus, I’m almost done.”

Still no response.

Only the hum of the computer and the rain hammering against the window.

Then suddenly Markus’s voice exploded in my ears.

“Vivian, he’s in the building. He’s coming up right now. Get the f*ck out.”

A low, elegant chime echoed from the private elevator down the hall. My heart skipped a beat. I snapped my gaze back to the screen as the progress bar lurched forward.

Downloading Project Genesis… 95%… 100%.

D******d complete.

Relief barely had time to register before I yanked the encrypted flash drive free and shoved it deep into my bra, the cold plastic pressing against my bare skin. This dress had no pockets. I had worn it to work on purpose, knowing exactly what it would take to convince Markus to let me upstairs and give me a few minutes alone in Julian’s office.

Heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor, each thud sending my pulse higher. Before I could move to hide, the office lights snapped on.

Brilliant white lights flooded the room, forcing me to squint against the sudden glare. I froze mid-step. Julian Cross stood in the doorway, looking like the Devil himself had just stepped out of the raging storm.

At only twenty-nine years old, he already ruled the financial world of New York like a king. They called him the Ghost of Wall Street. His name was feared in boardrooms and whispered about even in the city’s slums. One wrong move from him could destroy fortunes overnight. And now, that same man was standing right in front of me.

For a brief moment, Julian stood in the doorway, his broad frame outlined by the light spilling in from the corridor. Then he stepped into the office, his white shirt unbuttoned at the collar and his sleeves rolled to his forearms.

My body went completely cold. Something had gone horribly wrong. Julian Cross wasn’t supposed to be in New York tonight.

Then his icy eyes found me.

For six months, I had lived for this exact moment, dreaming of confronting the man who destroyed my father and making him pay for ruining my family’s fortune.

But none of those plans involved being trapped in his office with him standing between me and the only exit-out.

“Vivian Vance.” His deep voice cut through the room as he took a slow, deliberate step toward me. “Would you care to explain what you’re doing in my office?”

My fingers gripped the edge of the desk behind my back as rain hammered violently against the windows.

“I……I’m sorry, sir,” I forced out, trying to sound nervous and small. “I stopped by your office this afternoon to drop off a file, but you weren’t here. I think I must’ve dropped my apartment keys somewhere near your desk.”

He stalked closer, his gaze dropping briefly to my empty hands before returning to my face. Before I could pull away, his fingers closed around my chin and tipped my head up.

His hand was warm, and mine was turning ice cold.

“Your keys?” He asked.

The question didn’t sound like a question. It sounded like a trap.

“Yes, sir.” I forced my voice to stay steady. “I begged Markus to let me up. I can’t get inside my apartment without them.”

His thumb brushed slowly along my jaw, his eyes fixed on mine.

“You’re either a very bad liar,” he said calmly, “or you enjoy playing with fire.”

Before I could come up with a response, frantic footsteps pounded down the hallway. A second later, Markus rushed into the office, pale and breathless, sweat darkening the collar of his uniform.

“Mr. Cross,” Markus panted between breaths. “Jesus Christ, I didn’t know you were back from London tonight. She was crying about her keys, sir. That’s the only reason I let her up. She’s barely been here a minute, I swear.”

Julian’s attention never left my face. “So you’re the idiot who let this little rat into my office in the middle of the night?”

“Sir, I was only trying to—”

“I don’t remember asking you for explanations, Markus.” Julian didn’t even look at him, his voice dropping to a deadly quiet level. “The rat has a mouth. Let her do the talking.”

Markus fell silent instantly. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched the huge security guard shrink back, silenced by a single sentence.

My throat tightened seeing that. “I’m not lying, sir,” I broke in, forcing panic into my voice. “Check my bag. There’s nothing in there but my wallet and makeup kit. I swear.”

Julian studied me for a moment before the corner of his lip lifted. “I only called you a liar,” he said softly. “Not a thief. It's interesting where your mind went first.”

The realization hit me a second too late.

F*ck.

I dropped my gaze to the floor.

His grip sharpened against my jaw, forcing my head back up. “Look at me.” He scoffed.

I obeyed.

“Do I look like a man who’s buying your pathetic story about some missing apartment keys?”

Frustration got the better of me, and I threw my hands up, desperate to look scared. The movement pulled the thin fabric of my dress tight across my chest. My stomach dropped as the hard, rectangular outline of the flash drive pressed visibly against the fabric for a split second before settling back into place. Julian’s gaze tracked the movement instantly.

A look of grim satisfaction crossed his face. He released my jaw and took a step back, sliding his hands into his pockets. Then he just stood there, like he’d finally found exactly what he was looking for.

“You have exactly sixty seconds,” he said, his voice calm and deadly, “to take out whatever you’re hiding in your dress.”

Julian held my gaze for a long moment, the warning completely disappearing from his voice. He wasn’t asking anymore.

“Vivian Vance. Strip.”