C5

CHAPTER 5

​I nod, making a mental note of everything. She approaches me again, this time stopping in front of the massive window overlooking the New York skyline. The sunlight hits her silhouette, casting an almost celestial aura around her black hair, but I know there is nothing angelic about her—at least, not from what I’ve heard.

​“Come closer,” she orders without turning around.

​I walk toward her, stopping a step away. From the 49th floor, the city looks tiny—a model made of concrete and haste.

​“Look down, Camila. Everything you see—every light, every building bearing the seal of a publishing house—is either competition, or it’s mine. And I have no intention of losing a single inch of what belongs to me. Do you know what happens to those who can’t keep up with the pace?”

​“They get left behind,” I whisper.

​“They sink,” she corrects me, spinning around to face me once more. “And you are in a very precarious position. You are here by a fluke of fate and Susana’s insistence, but to me, you are still that clueless girl from the train who doesn't even know which station to get off at.”

​She steps so close that her chest almost brushes against mine. I can see a tiny, nearly imperceptible scar near her eyebrow, and the blue of her eyes grows so deep that I feel I could easily drown in them. The air between us becomes thick, charged with a sexual tension so obvious it’s almost painful. My body remembers the contact from the train, and my treacherous mind wishes for it to happen again. It’s a feeling that leaves me a bit confused, because until not too long ago, I considered myself a straight girl.

​“Prove me wrong,” she whispers, and this time her voice isn't cold, but challenging. “Or leave right now and stop wasting both of our time.”

​“I’m not going to leave,” I reply, holding her gaze with an intensity that causes her pupils to dilate slightly.

​Amy smiles. It’s a small, dangerous smile—the smile of someone who has just found a new and exciting toy. She reaches out, and this time, she does touch me. Her long, cold fingers brush my chin, forcing me to tilt my head up a bit more. The contact is like an electric shock surging through every nerve in my body. My breathing becomes erratic, and I am certain she can tell how my nipples harden beneath the thin fabric of my blouse and lace bra.

​“Good,” she says, withdrawing her hand with a slowness that leaves me aching for more. “Your desk is right outside. There are three contract folders that need to be reviewed and digitized before noon. If you find a single typo or a comma out of place, you will redo them from scratch.”

​She turns on her heel and returns to her chair, ignoring me completely, as if I were no longer anything more than another piece of furniture in the office. That ability to switch from scorching intimacy to utter indifference leaves me completely thrown off. Like a fish out of water.

​I walk toward the door, my legs still feeling weak. As I reach the threshold, I stop and glance over my shoulder. Amy is buried in some paperwork, but right before I step out, she looks up.

​“And, Camila...” she calls out, her blue gaze trapping mine once again. “Don't wear that lipstick again. The color is too... sweet. In this office, I want professionalism, not distractions.”

​I freeze. It’s a possessive comment, a way of marking territory over my own appearance. I step out of the office and close the door, leaning against it for a second to try and soothe my racing heart.

​Susana is leaning against a desk a few yards away, watching me with a curious smirk.

​“Did you survive?” she whispers.

​“I think so,” I reply, though I’m not sure if surviving is the right word.

​I sit down at my desk, facing the three folders waiting for me. My hands are still trembling a little as I place my purse into one of the drawers and shut it. Then I turn toward the folders and take the first one with a shaky hand. I know this is only the beginning. Amy Murphy doesn't just want a secretary; she wants to test me, she wants to bend me to her will, she wants to see how far I can go before I break. Before I run away.

​And worst of all, as I feel the lingering trace of her perfume on my skin, is that I am longing to see what will happen when she finally succeeds. I just entered the lioness’s den believing myself to be the victim, but as I begin to read the first contract, I realize that a part of me—a dark and unfamiliar part—is thrilled to be under her control and to be able to prove to her just how capable I am.

​I feel the power game has begun, and New York has never seemed like such a dangerous and exciting place all at once.