The silence in the lobby was deafening. The only sound was the hum of the massive air conditioning vents.

The two security guards took two large steps backward, putting distance between themselves and Ansley. They looked at the floor, sweating.

Cade stared at Ansley. The muscles in his jaw twitched. He let out a nervous, high-pitched laugh.

"You're lying," Cade pointed a shaking finger at her. "You're a fraud! She's just an assistant for a bankrupt startup! Throw her out!"

The receptionist swallowed hard. She didn't move a muscle.

Ansley reached up and rubbed her bruised wrist. She smoothed down the front of her black blazer. She didn't even give Cade the satisfaction of looking at him.

Before Cade could yell again, the VIP elevator at the back of the lobby chimed.

The polished metal doors slid open.

A middle-aged man stepped out. He wore a silver bespoke suit and gold-rimmed glasses. He walked with the terrifying efficiency of someone who held immense power.

Every Aegis employee in the lobby immediately looked down. No one dared to make eye contact with him.

The man walked straight past Cade and stopped directly in front of Ansley.

He bowed slightly from the waist.

"Miss Holcomb," he said, his voice carrying clearly across the quiet room. "I am Mr. Woodward's executive assistant. I deeply apologize for the unacceptable behavior of our security staff."

He gestured toward the VIP elevator with an open palm. "Please, follow me."

Cade's jaw practically unhinged. His eyes bulged out of his head. He stumbled forward.

"Wait! Are you crazy?" Cade yelled at the assistant. "She's nobody! I have the algorithm! I just met with your director!"

The assistant stopped. He slowly turned his head and looked at Cade. His eyes were dead behind his gold glasses. He looked at Cade like he was a piece of trash stuck to his shoe.

The assistant looked at the head of security.

"Escort Mr. Vance out of the building and permanently revoke his visitor access," the assistant ordered coldly. "Mr. Woodward will personally review and handle any pending business matters regarding his firm."

The two security guards who had just grabbed Ansley suddenly found their courage. They lunged at Cade.

They grabbed his arms and twisted them violently behind his back.

"No! You can't do this!" Cade screamed, thrashing wildly.

The silver hard drive slipped from his fingers. It hit the marble floor.

One of the guards stepped directly onto the drive with his heavy combat boot. A loud crack echoed as the plastic and metal shattered into pieces.

Cade screamed Ansley's name as the guards dragged him backward toward the revolving doors. He sounded desperate and broken.

Ansley watched him get thrown out onto the wet pavement. The knot of anger in her chest finally loosened.

The assistant bowed again. "Right this way, Miss Holcomb."

Ansley took a deep breath. She walked past the terrified receptionist and stepped into the VIP elevator.

The doors closed, shutting out the staring eyes of the lobby.

The elevator shot upward. The speed made Ansley's stomach flip.

The assistant stood perfectly still in the corner. He didn't ask her any questions. He didn't look at her. His professionalism was terrifying.

Ansley watched the digital numbers climb higher and higher. Her heart started to pound against her ribs.

She had used Emery's name to get in the door. It was a bluff. She had no real leverage. Now, she had to face the man who actually ran this empire.

Ding.

The elevator stopped at the 98th floor. The doors slid open.

Ansley stepped out into a massive, open-concept floor. It was entirely black, white, and gray. There were no cubicles. No walls. Just an endless expanse of cold marble and glass. The emptiness was suffocating.

The assistant led her to a set of massive, double oak doors at the end of the hall.

He stopped. He didn't open them. He just gestured for her to go inside.

Ansley gripped her manila envelope. Her knuckles turned white. She took a deep breath, reached out, and pushed the heavy doors open.

Ansley stepped into the office.

The smell hit her instantly. It was a heavy, bitter scent of black coffee mixed with a sharp, cold cedarwood cologne.

The office was absurdly large. Two walls were made entirely of floor-to-ceiling glass, offering a dizzying view of the Manhattan skyline. The glare from the gray sky outside was blinding.

In the center of the room sat a massive desk carved from solid black ebony.

Behind the desk, a high-backed leather chair was turned away from her, facing the windows.

The only thing she could see was a large hand resting on the armrest. The skin was tanned, the veins prominent against the bones. Long fingers were casually flipping a solid gold lighter open and shut.

Clack. Clack. Clack.

The metallic sound echoed in the silent room.

Ansley swallowed the dry lump in her throat. She walked forward, her heels sinking into the thick carpet. She stopped exactly two meters away from the desk.

"Mr. Woodward," Ansley said. She forced her voice to stay steady. "Thank you for seeing me."

The leather chair slowly spun around. The metal base groaned softly.

Ansley finally saw his face. Her lungs forgot how to pull in air.

Darius Woodward had a face that belonged on a wanted poster. His jawline was sharp enough to cut glass. His brow bone was heavy, casting dark shadows over eyes that looked exactly like a starving wolf's. They were pitch black and completely merciless.

He wasn't wearing a suit jacket. His black dress shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, and a dark silk tie hung loosely around his neck.

He didn't say a word. He just stared at her. His eyes dragged over her face, stripping away every layer of her defenses.

The silence stretched on. The lighter flipped open and shut in his hand. Clack. Clack.

Ansley's skin prickled under his gaze. She wanted to turn around and run. Instead, she placed the manila envelope on the edge of his desk.

"Aura Aerospace has developed a predictive algorithm," Ansley started talking fast, reciting her pitch. "It can increase the efficiency of your new defense shield by fourteen percent. The data is all here."

A low, dark laugh rumbled from Darius's chest. It cut her off instantly.

He tossed the gold lighter onto the desk. It hit the wood with a sharp crack.

"Did you really think," Darius drawled, his voice thick with arrogant mockery, "that putting on a suit would make you look like you belong on Wall Street?"

Ansley blinked, completely caught off guard.

Darius looked at her clothes with disgust. "The tailoring is terrible. And that lipstick makes you look like a vampire. You look ridiculous, Ansley."

Heat exploded in Ansley's cheeks. Humiliation burned the back of her eyes. She bit down hard on the inside of her cheek to stop her lip from trembling.

She pushed the envelope closer to him. "Please, just look at the data."

He lifted his hand and rested his long fingers lightly on top of the envelope. He didn't push it away, but he didn't open it either. He just tapped his index finger against the thick paper, a slow, deliberate rhythm.

He stood up.

He walked around the desk. He was massive-easily six foot four. He closed the distance between them in two strides.

He stood so close she could feel the heat radiating off his chest. She had to tilt her head back to look at him.

Before she could step back, Darius raised his hand. His rough thumb pressed hard against her chin, forcing her face up.

Ansley's body went completely rigid. She tried to pull away, but his grip was like iron.

Darius stared down into her eyes. His breath smelled of coffee and mint.

"Emery protected you too well," Darius whispered harshly. "You don't even know how to beg properly."

He let go of her chin. He wiped his thumb against his slacks, like touching her had disgusted him.

He turned his back to her and walked toward the window.

"Aegis is not a charity," Darius said to the glass, his tone dismissive. "Leave the file. Now get out of my office before I decide to feed it to the shredder."

Ansley's pride shattered into a million pieces. Her chest heaved. She looked at the envelope trapped beneath his hand, realizing she had surrendered her only weapon to a tyrant. Tears of humiliation pricked her eyes, but she turned on her heel and fled the office without saying a single word.