The following morning, Maya stood frozen at the foot of a towering building in the heart of Manhattan. The gleaming glass exterior of Steel Corporation stretched endlessly toward the sky, reflecting the pale blue of morning. Cold steel, mirrored windows, and the buzz of passing taxis made the world feel too fast, too loud.

She inhaled deeply. The air smelled faintly of city dust, exhaust, and the sharp tang of anticipation.

She wore a blue-and-white corporate dress with clean lines and modest elegance. Her matching blue pumps clicked nervously against the sidewalk. Morales—her ever-efficient android guide—had sent it as part of her "blend-in-and-don't-fail" kit. It fit perfectly, too perfectly, like it was trying to disguise how out-of-place she felt inside it.

Jay stood beside her, his hands tucked into his coat pockets, scanning the building as though he worked there every day. Which, of course, he did.

"You look like you're about to be sacrificed," he joked gently, noting her rigid posture.

Maya forced a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Thanks again for this opportunity."

She meant it. With her fate literally hanging by a thread, this job wasn't just a chance—it was everything. If she failed, it wasn't just her mission that crumbled. She could disappear entirely, her existence wiped clean.

Morales had promised he'd do everything to help her return home early—but only if she proved herself.

"No problem," Jay replied casually. "Just...do a good job. That's all it takes."

He gave her a reassuring smile before leading the way through the tall glass doors. Maya followed, blinking against the rush of cool, sterile air that greeted them inside.

She was immediately engulfed in a world of marble floors, chrome finishes, and a thousand pairs of polished shoes moving quickly in every direction. The lobby was vast and humming with soft conversation, the whirr of elevators, and the ever-present tapping of heels.

Maya tried not to gawk, but she had never been in such close proximity to this many humans before. She clutched her handbag tighter, the feel of her own heartbeat echoing inside her ribcage.

Twenty minutes later, she was standing beside Jay and his co-worker Anna, waiting for the elevator.

Anna didn't speak. Her eyes flicked over Maya's appearance like a scanner—analyzing, dissecting, judging. Maya could feel the temperature of the woman's opinion drop by degrees. She didn't flinch, just straightened her back and looked ahead.

The elevator finally dinged.

Jay stepped in, Maya followed, and the doors closed with a metallic sigh. She exhaled shakily and chewed the inside of her cheek.

When they arrived at the executive floor, everything felt quieter. More intentional. The lighting was lower, the air sharper. Jay pointed down the hallway.

"Wait in the lounge," he said. "I'll let Mr. Steel know you're here. It might take a while but just relax."

Maya nodded and made her way down the corridor, heels echoing against the polished tiles like a countdown. The lounge itself was impressive—polished oak coffee tables, plush leather chairs in cream and chestnut, a wide TV screen displaying muted news reports.

A coffee machine hummed softly nearby. Magazines were stacked like trophies on a side table: Forbes, Business Weekly, Global Finance. The whole space whispered control.

Maya sat down, hands folded in her lap. Time crawled. First ten minutes. Then thirty. Then a full hour passed.

And then another.

Three hours later, she was still sitting there.

She'd cycled through the same news story twice. Her coffee had gone cold. Her nerves, once sharp, were now dulled into a slow, throbbing ache. Every footstep outside the lounge made her sit straighter, only to wilt when it passed her by.

Then, finally—

"Maya?"

Jay's voice. She leapt to her feet so fast she nearly knocked the table. Her dress shifted slightly, and she ran a quick hand over it to compose herself.

"Mr. Steel will see you now," Jay said, watching her carefully.

Her heart slammed against her chest as she nodded. "Okay. I'm ready."

No, she wasn't.

The hallway seemed longer than before. Her breathing shallow. The air felt heavier the closer they got. There was no logical reason for her to feel like prey—but she did.

"You've got this," she whispered to herself under her breath. "You have to."

Jay opened the office door and motioned for her to go in.

The room swallowed her whole.

It was enormous, dark, cold. Deep navy and sleek black dominated the space. The windows were tinted just enough to make the sunlight dim. One wall was entirely glass, another was lined with shelves full of books—real books, thick spines and worn edges. There was another massive door within the office, closed, almost ominously so.

At the center of it all sat a massive desk, clear glass atop dark steel legs. Behind it, facing away from her, sat a chair.

Maya took a careful step forward. "Excuse me, sir. I'm Maya Peyton. Hopefully your new personal secretary."

The chair slowly turned. Her breath caught.

The man before her wasn't looking at her. Not directly. His eyes were focused on something beside her, some unseen detail in the room—but the moment her voice reached him, his eyes flicked toward hers.

And she froze.

His aura hit her like a brick wall.

Cupids could always feel others—emotions, essence, energy. But this? This wasn't normal. His aura was unreadable—no colors, no clarity. It felt like standing between two beings, one cloaked in silence, the other in a storm.

He was light-skinned, impeccably dressed, and impossibly still. Jet-black hair framed a face that seemed carved from something more permanent than flesh. His eyes were a near-golden hazel that shifted, just for a second, to something red. A deep, ancient red. But when she blinked, it was gone.

"Are you going to keep standing there, Miss Peyton?" His voice was low, dry, and dispassionate. Every syllable felt like it had been filed down to precision.

She flinched, cheeks warming with embarrassment. "S-Sorry." She moved toward the desk, forcing her legs not to tremble. Her heels echoed like gunshots in the quiet room.

When she reached his desk, his eyes finally settled on her. Truly looked at her. And in that suspended moment, something happened.

The silence stretched.

Her heart pounded. Not from attraction—not exactly—but from something else but she couldn't place it in her mind.

"You may sit," he said, not breaking eye contact.

Maya sat, spine straight, hands folded tightly in her lap. His eyes flicked down to the documents Jay had prepared for her. But his presence still pressed against her like cold water seeping through skin.

As he scanned her résumé, Maya stared at the shadow beneath his chair.

For a moment, just a moment, she could have sworn it moved independently.

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