C3

​CHAPTER 3

​I am thrown off by her bluntness, but I kneel beside her without hesitation anyway. For the next five minutes, both of us are searching for the damn ring among the furniture legs. Finally, my eyes catch a metallic glint near the corner of the rug.

​“Here it is!” I say, reaching out to pick it up.

​It’s a massive diamond surrounded by sapphires. As I hand it over, I notice something that makes me furrow my brow: Susana has a very distinct ring mark on her finger, as if she never takes it off, which makes it strange that it would just slip off like that. Furthermore, her lipstick is smudged at the corner of her mouth and her hair is dangerously messy at the nape of her neck. It’s obvious that searching for the ring is just an excuse to cover up whatever she was doing before I arrived, but I decide to keep quiet. It’s none of my business and, honestly, I like Susana.

​“You are my lifesaver!” Susana slips the ring back on and fixes her hair in front of a small mirror. “Alright, now take a deep breath. I need to explain a couple of things to you before you step into the 'Lioness’s Den'.”

​I stand up, wiping my hands on my skirt. The term "Lioness’s Den" does nothing to soothe my nerves.

​“Susana, I was told the position I’m filling is for a receptionist…” I begin to say.

​She winces and steps closer, lowering her voice.

​“Yes, well… That’s what I told your mother’s friend so I wouldn’t scare her off. The truth is, we don’t need a receptionist; we need a personal secretary for the owner of Apex Ink. Someone who can handle her schedule, her whims, and above all, her temperament.”

​My heart skips a beat.

​“A personal secretary? But I… I only have experience as an assistant. I don’t know if I’m qualified to manage the schedule of someone so important.”

​“Camila, look at me,” Susana places her hands on my shoulders. “You have something the last five secretaries didn't: you look like someone who knows how to hold her ground under pressure. The others walked out crying in less than a week. Amy is… special. She’s demanding, she’s cold, and she does not tolerate mediocrity. But she pays three times more than any other position, and I know you probably need that money. Or maybe you don't…”

​I swallow hard. She’s right; the salary of a personal secretary at a publishing house of this caliber could solve all my problems in a matter of months.

​“Alright,” I say, trying to muster up my courage. “I’ll do it.”

​“That’s the spirit. Come with me. She’s in her office.”

​We step out of Susana’s office and walk toward the largest door on the floor, a heavy, dark wood structure that contrasts sharply with the glass of the others. As we draw near, we notice it’s slightly ajar. Susana falls silent, and we stop just before entering.

​From inside, a female voice fills the space. It’s a voice that is instantly familiar to me: deep, velvety, and with a cadence that sends goosebumps down my arms.

​“…I’m telling you, it’s the strangest thing that has happened to me in months,” the voice says. She seems to be talking to someone. “She’s a nymph, Claire. In the middle of that filthy subway car packed with ordinary people, she was glowing. She had these honey-colored eyes that seemed to scream for someone to save her… or to destroy her.”

​I freeze right where I stand. The air escapes my lungs. The subway? Honey-colored eyes? Hearing no reply confirms to me that she is speaking on the phone.

​“You have no reason to be jealous,” the woman continues with a dry, humorless laugh. “If you had seen her, you would have wanted to lay a hand on her too. She had that blend of innocence and terror that I love to provoke so much. But don’t worry, I won’t see her again. It was just a moment of distraction before returning to the reality of the office… For God’s sake, the chances of running into her again are slim to none, almost non-existent.”

​Susana, completely oblivious to my state of shock, smirks and decides to interrupt. She gives the wood two firm knocks and pushes the door open.

​“Sorry to interrupt the gossip session, cousin,” Susana says in a playful tone that catches me off guard. “But your new secretary just arrived. And believe me, this one won’t scare off so easily.”

​Susana gestures with her hand for me to enter. My feet feel like they weigh a ton, but I force myself to move. I cross the threshold of the office—an immense room with walls lined with books and a black glass desk that resembles an altar.

​Behind the desk, sitting in a high-backed leather chair, is her.

​She is no longer wearing the leather jacket or the tight jeans. Now, she wears a smoke-gray pantsuit that fits her shoulders with military precision. Her black hair is gathered into a flawless low bun, without a single strand out of place. But it’s those eyes—those eyes as blue as Arctic ice—that pin me to the spot.

​The phone in her hand slowly slips onto the desk as her bored expression morphs into something far darker and sharper. The silence in the room grows dense, almost solid; I can hear the ticking of a wall clock and the frantic thumping of my own heart.

​“Camila,” Susana calls out, breaking the spell, “this is Amy Murphy, owner and CEO of Apex Ink. Amy, this is Camila Contreras.”

​Amy Murphy says nothing. I watch her rise from her seat with predatory elegance, resting her long, firm hands on the black glass surface. Her blue eyes track me from head to toe, pausing on my lips just as they had on the train. A tiny, triumphant smirk curves the corner of her mouth.

​“Well,” Amy whispers, and her voice strikes me with the force of lightning. “It seems fate has a very twisted sense of humor.”

​I feel myself burning up; my cheeks must be the color of a tomato. The woman who had held me on the train, the woman who had made me question everything I know about myself in ten minutes, is now my boss. And judging by the way she looks at me, she has absolutely no intention of forgetting what happened between us. Or perhaps I am rambling too much, exaggerating things.

​“Do you two already know each other?” Susana asks, looking from one to the other in genuine confusion.

​Amy walks around the desk, closing the distance between us until I can smell her sandalwood perfume once again. She stops mere inches from my face, forcing me to look up to hold her gaze.

​“We had an… accidental encounter this morning,” Amy answers without breaking eye contact. “Didn’t we, Camila?”

​“Yes… Ms. Murphy,” I manage to say, though my voice is barely a whisper.

​“Ms. Murphy,” she repeats, savoring the words as if they were a delicacy. “I like how that sounds coming from your mouth. Susana, leave us. I need to explain to my new secretary what her… special duties will be.”

​Susana looks at us with curiosity, but she nods and quickly leaves the office, closing the door behind her with a click that sounds exactly like a cell door locking shut.

​I am left entirely alone with her—with the queen of New York. And by the way Amy leans in toward me, invading my personal space until I can feel her breath against my ear, something inside me tells me she is a woman to be reckoned with.

​“Welcome to Apex Ink, little one,” she whispers. “I hope you are as good at obeying orders as you are at tumbling into the arms of strangers.”