ARC 1: THE STRANGER

CHAPTER ONE

The Woman Behind the Desk

Amara came back the next morning.

Not because she wanted to.

Because she needed the money.

There was a difference.

She stood outside the towering glass building at exactly 7:47 a.m., staring up at the silver letters engraved above the entrance.

ROMANO HOLDINGS.

She adjusted the strap of her handbag and exhaled.

“Don't embarrass yourself,” she whispered.

Her reflection stared back at her from the glass doors.

Simple black trousers. White blouse. Cheap heels she'd polished twice that morning.

She looked professional.

Hopefully professional enough to survive whatever kind of woman Alessia Romano was.

The security guard opened the door for her.

“Good morning.”

“Morning.”

She stepped inside.

Everything was expensive.

The marble floor looked like it had never known dirt. The walls were decorated with abstract paintings that probably cost more than her entire education. Even the air smelled expensive.

Amara approached the reception desk.

“I'm here to see Ms. Romano.”

The receptionist looked up.

“Name?”

“Amara Quinn.”

The woman's fingers moved across her keyboard.

Then she paused.

“She's expecting you.”

Of course she was.

Amara's stomach tightened.

“Where do I go?”

“Forty-second floor. Private elevator.”

Amara glanced toward the elevator.

“Private?”

The receptionist smiled politely.

“For Ms. Romano.”

“Right.”

Amara walked away before she could say anything else.

The elevator doors opened immediately.

She stepped inside.

As the numbers climbed, her nervousness increased.

Forty-two.

The doors opened.

A woman in a gray suit was waiting.

“Ms. Quinn?”

“Yes.”

“I'm Elena. Ms. Romano's executive assistant.”

Amara followed her down the hallway.

“Is she always this terrifying?”

Elena stopped walking.

Amara immediately regretted speaking.

“What?”

Elena stared at her.

“I didn't say anything.”

“You did.”

“I was talking to myself.”

“Elena.”

A voice came from behind them.

Both women turned.

Alessia stood at the end of the corridor.

Black suit.

White shirt.

No unnecessary jewelry except a silver watch around her wrist.

Her expression was unreadable.

“Elena, leave us.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

Elena disappeared.

Amara watched her go.

Then looked back at Alessia.

“Do you scare everyone?”

Alessia raised one eyebrow.

“Does it bother you?”

“A little.”

“Good.”

Amara folded her arms.

“You enjoy intimidating people.”

“No.”

Alessia walked toward her.

“I enjoy knowing who is intimidated.”

“And what am I?”

Alessia stopped in front of her.

“You haven't decided yet.”

Amara held her gaze.

Neither woman moved.

For a moment, the hallway seemed strangely quiet.

Then Alessia glanced at her shoes.

“You're wearing the wrong shoes.”

Amara looked down.

“What?”

“Those heels are going to hurt by lunchtime.”

“You hired me yesterday, and today you're criticizing my shoes?”

“I'm observing.”

“Sounds like criticism.”

“Then perhaps you're too sensitive.”

Amara scoffed.

“And perhaps you're too controlling.”

Silence.

Alessia's eyes narrowed slightly.

Then, unexpectedly, she smiled.

“You're going to be difficult.”

“I've been told.”

“By whom?”

“My mother.”

“Is she usually right?”

“Unfortunately.”

Alessia turned toward her office.

“Come.”

Amara followed.

The office was enormous.

Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city. A black leather sofa sat against one wall, while a massive desk dominated the center of the room.

Alessia walked behind it.

“Sit.”

Amara sat.

Alessia remained standing.

“Your responsibilities are simple.”

“I'm listening.”

“You'll manage my schedule. Handle correspondence. Organize meetings. Accompany me when necessary.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes.”

Alessia opened a drawer and removed a thin black folder.

She placed it on the desk.

“Confidentiality.”

Amara opened it.

A contract.

She skimmed the first page.

“You expect me to sign this?”

“Yes.”

“Without reading it?”

“I expect you to read it.”

“Good.”

She turned another page.

Alessia watched her.

Amara could feel those eyes on her.

She tried to ignore them.

“You're staring.”

“I know.”

Amara looked up.

“Why?”

“Because you're nervous.”

“I'm not.”

“You are.”

“How can you tell?”

“Your left hand.”

Amara glanced down.

Her fingers were gripping the edge of the folder.

She released it.

Alessia's mouth twitched.

“Annoying, isn't it?”

“What?”

“Being observed.”

Amara stared at her.

“You really do enjoy this.”

“Enjoy what?”

“Making people uncomfortable.”

Alessia leaned against the desk.

“No.”

Her voice became quieter.

“I enjoy watching people try not to be.”

Something about the way she said it made Amara's heartbeat stumble.

She looked back at the contract.

“What's this?”

“Your salary.”

Amara froze.

She looked at the number.

Then looked again.

“This can't be right.”

“It is.”

“Per month?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Alessia's expression didn't change.

“Because that's what I decided you're worth.”

Amara closed the folder.

“I can't accept this.”

“Why?”

“It's too much.”

“Then work for it.”

“I will.”

“I know.”

There was something strange about the certainty in Alessia's voice.

Amara frowned.

“You seem very confident about me.”

“I don't employ people I don't believe in.”

“You barely know me.”

Alessia looked at her for a long moment.

“I know enough.”

Amara felt that strange uneasiness again.

“What does that mean?”

“It means you should sign the contract.”

She slid a pen across the desk.

Amara picked it up.

Before signing, she looked at Alessia.

“One question.”

“Ask.”

“Why me?”

Alessia's expression changed.

Only slightly.

But Amara noticed.

“Because,” Alessia said, “you were the only person who didn't lie during your interview.”

Amara frowned.

“I barely said anything.”

“Exactly.”

A chill moved down her spine.

“What did you ask me?”

“Whether you would take this job if the salary were half of what I offered.”

Amara remembered.

She had answered honestly.

Yes.

Because she needed the money.

Alessia had simply stared at her afterward.

Amara hadn't understood why.

Now she did.

Alessia had been studying her.

The entire time.

Amara signed.

Alessia took the contract.

Their fingers brushed.

It was nothing.

A tiny accident.

Barely a second.

Yet neither woman immediately pulled away.

Alessia's gaze dropped to their hands.

Then slowly returned to Amara's eyes.

“Welcome to Romano Holdings.”

Amara withdrew her hand.

“Thank you.”

Alessia nodded toward the door.

“Elena will show you your office.”

Amara stood.

She reached the door.

“Amara.”

She turned.

“Yes?”

Alessia's expression was unreadable again.

“Don't ever lie to me.”

Amara smiled faintly.

“I won't.”

“Good.”

She opened the door.

“Because I always find out.”

Amara stepped into the hallway.

The door closed behind her.

She exhaled.

She didn't know why her heart was beating so fast.

She didn't know why she felt like she had just agreed to something far more dangerous than a job.

And she certainly didn't know why, behind the closed office door, Alessia Romano was still staring at the place where she'd been standing.

Alessia reached for her phone.

“She's here,” she said.

A voice answered on the other end.

“And?”

Alessia looked toward the door.

Her jaw tightened.

“She's exactly as you described.”

“And the plan?”

Alessia was silent.

For the first time in years, she hesitated.

Then she said quietly,

“The plan hasn't changed.”

A pause.

“Are you sure?”

Alessia's eyes hardened.

“Yes.”

But when she ended the call, she remained staring at the door.

Because there was one thing she hadn't expected.

She had expected Amara Quinn to be useful.

She hadn't expected her to be beautiful.

And she certainly hadn't expected to want to know what she looked like when she smiled.