ELENA'S POV

The heavy sound of Lucas's footsteps faded as he left the dining hall, leaving me staring at the long stretch of table between us. The feast suddenly felt less appetizing, but my stomach won the argument, and I quietly finished what was on my plate. The silence of the mansion pressed in, broken only by the faint tick of an old clock somewhere down the hall.

When I finally returned to my room, I set my half-packed box by the dresser and sank onto the bed. My eyes traced the carvings on the wooden ceiling, my mind still tangled with thoughts of Uncle Frederick's letter, the island, and the man who clearly wanted nothing to do with me.

One year, I reminded myself. Just one year. But as I lay down, staring at the shadows stretching across the walls, a single question echoed in my head: how on earth was I supposed to survive here and who Is Lucas Vance?

The soft rush of the waves lulled me into sleep, pulling me under before I could find an answer.

Morning came with the cry of gulls outside my window and the faint scent of salt drifting in with the breeze.

I sat up straight, brushing a loose strand of hair away from my face. The sunlight pouring through the tall windows illuminated the room's beauty in a way I hadn't noticed the night before.

Stretching, I rose and wandered into the spacious bathroom tucked beside a walk-in wardrobe. After a refreshing shower, I scavenged through the clothes already neatly arranged and separated in the wardrobe. My eyes settled on a simple outfit: a black leather jacket over a white top, paired with blue jeans. Black boots completed the look as I grabbed them on my way out.

Heading down the hallway toward the dining area, I nearly jumped out of my skin when a figure appeared out of nowhere.

"Oh God!" I gasped, clutching my chest.

"Sorry, Miss Hayes. I didn't mean to startle you," the woman said apologetically. She looked to be in her late fifties, her kind smile softening the sharpness of her sudden appearance.

"I'm Gertha, the head chef," she introduced herself warmly.

"Nice to meet you, Gertha," I replied with a small smile, still catching my breath.

"Breakfast is served in the dining hall," she said, bowing her head slightly.

"Perfect. I was just heading there," I answered, then added casually, "Will Lucas be joining us?"

"Mr. Lucas already left for work, miss."

"That's alright," I said with a relieved smile, continuing toward the dining room.

"Well, good thing that meany isn't here," I muttered under my breath, smirking.

The dining hall felt emptier than last night, though no less grand. A long polished oak table stretched across the room, but only one place had been set, mine.

Silverware gleamed under the chandelier, and steam rose from platters arranged neatly along the sideboard. Freshly baked bread, golden croissants, bowls of colorful fruits, scrambled eggs, and a pot of what smelled like rich coffee filled the air with a heavenly aroma.

I slid into my chair, a small smile tugging at my lips. At least someone here wanted me fed.

As I helped myself to eggs and bread, I couldn't help but think about Lucas. Cold, arrogant, impossible Lucas. How could someone so handsome be so insufferable? I rolled my eyes just at the thought of him.

Still, the food was comforting. Each bite softened the sting of last night's tension, and for a few minutes, I allowed myself to enjoy the quiet.

"Hmm... maybe living here won't be so bad," I whispered to myself, savoring the taste of the croissant.

But the thought didn't last long. My eyes drifted to the far end of the table where Lucas had sat the night before. The chair was empty now, but somehow his presence lingered,like a shadow I couldn't shake.

As I ate, a thought struck me. Why don't I go to the town today?

"Miss Gertha!" I called out.

"Yes, Miss Elena?" she answered, appearing almost instantly.

"I'd like to go to the little town today," I said with an enthusiastic smile.

"Ah, ready to address the people, I see!" she replied, her face lighting up.

"Address the people?" I asked, brows furrowed.

"Of course, Miss. Those townsfolk were your uncle's workers. Now that he's gone and Erténa belongs to you, they're yours."

"My workers?" I echoed in disbelief. Was this some kind of fairy tale where I was suddenly the princess of a town? The thought made me both nervous and giddy. Oh my God, today is going to be interesting.

"I'll call your assistant immediately, Miss," Gertha said with a small bow before disappearing down the hall.

"Assistant?" I muttered, still baffled.

I was finishing off the last bites of my breakfast when a young woman walked in with a bright, confident smile.

"Good morning, Miss Elena. I'm Melody, your new personal assistant," she said proudly.

"Nice... nice to meet you, Melody," I replied, my voice carrying a tint of confusion.

"I'll be with you wherever you go and answer any questions about your duties here on Erténa, Miss," she explained, her tone soft but purposeful.

"Okay, so let me get this straight." I leaned forward, eyes wide. "I own this island, the people in it too, and everything around here is under my administration now?"

"That's exactly it, Miss," she said with a polite nod.

"Well, in that case, let's start by calling me just Elena. You're my assistant, sure, but I think we're going to be great friends."

Melody's smile widened. She was young, probably around my age, with warm eyes and a charm that felt instantly disarming. She wore a simple cream blouse tucked into a navy skirt, her neat braids swinging gently as she nodded.

The cobbled path wound down from the mansion into the heart of the town, Melody walking briskly at my side. Children darted between stalls, their laughter mingling with the clatter of pots and the cries of merchants selling their goods. The salty air from the sea mixed with the smell of fresh bread, smoked fish, and ripe fruits.

I slowed my steps, soaking it all in. "This place is... beautiful," I whispered, almost to myself.

Melody beamed. "Your uncle made sure the people always had what they needed. He wanted the island to thrive."

We wandered from stall to stall. A woman pressed a bundle of herbs into my hand, insisting it would help me sleep better. A fisherman proudly displayed his catch, the silver scales of the fish glinting in the sun. I smiled, thanked them, and felt something warm stir in my chest.

But then, the atmosphere shifted.

A few men paused their work, staring at me with furrowed brows. Two women at the fruit stand leaned closer, whispering behind their baskets. Children stopped their games to point before their mothers hurried them along.

"Who's that?" a voice muttered near the bakery.

"Never seen her before."

"She's with Melody... could she be a guest of Mr. Vance?"

"No, look at how she carries herself. Who does she think she is?"

The murmurs swelled, like the tide rolling in. Everywhere I turned, eyes followed me,not hostile, but questioning, suspicious.

I leaned closer to Melody, lowering my voice. "Why are they staring at me like that?"

Melody's smile faltered for the first time. "They... they don't know about you yet. For years, they've only ever seen Mr. Vance as the one in charge."

My chest tightened. "So to them... I'm just a stranger?"

Melody hesitated, then gave a small nod.

A strange chill settled over me despite the warmth of the afternoon sun. For the first time since stepping onto Erténa, I wondered if Uncle Frederick's gift was more curse than blessing.

LUCAS' POV

The steady rhythm of my fingers against the keyboard filled the office, the glow of the screen casting pale light on the polished desk. Numbers, contracts, projections, all things that usually demanded every ounce of my focus blurred for a moment.

Instead, my mind wandered back to last night.

Her voice. The way her eyes darted across the table, full of fire and defiance. The way she stiffened when I spoke.

Did I frighten her?

I leaned back in my chair, pinching the bridge of my nose. It shouldn't matter. She wasn't here for comfort. She wasn't here to be understood. She was here because of a piece of paper Mr Frederick left behind. A piece of paper that handed her power I had bled years to earn.

Still, the thought lingered. Was she really a threat?

I shook my head sharply, dismissing the weakness before it could grow. No. She was just a complication. One I would control.

My eyes slid to the clock on the wall. Noon. I hadn't stepped foot in the town in weeks, maybe longer. Not since Father...no, since he passed. Perhaps it was time to see how things were faring. Erténa had always thrived under my watch. The people trusted me.

Yes. I'd leave the office early. Drive down into the heart of town. Remind the island who truly kept it alive.

I smirked faintly, the thought oddly satisfying. If Elena thought she could walk in and claim her place here, she was in for a rude awakening.

ELENA'S POV

At first, I tried to ignore the stares. I busied myself with Melody, peering at stalls, asking questions, smiling politely. But the murmurs only grew louder as we moved deeper into the town square.

"Who is she?"

"Never seen her before."

"She walks like she owns the place."

My smile faltered, unease prickling my skin. "Melody," I whispered, leaning closer. "They're staring."

"They're only surprised, Miss...uh, Elena," Melody corrected herself quickly. "They've only ever known Mr. Lucas as the master of Erténa."

I nodded, though my throat felt tight. I turned to the crowd with a brave smile. "Good morning," I began softly. "I'm Elena Hayes... Frederick Alden's niece. I thought it was time I met all of you."

The name fell like a stone into water. Ripples of discontent spread instantly.

"Alden's niece?"

"So she thinks she's the new mistress?"

"This is Lucas's land now!"

The voices hardened, fusing into one sharp edge. My chest tightened as the crowd pressed closer.

"We don't need some outsider telling us how to live!" a man shouted.

A woman pushed to the front, her face flushed with anger. "All these years we worked under Mr. Alden, and now you come waltzing in, claiming us like property?" She sneered. "You're not one of us."

"I didn't mean..." I started, but my words were drowned out.

"You don't belong here!" the woman spat, raising her hand as if to strike.

I froze, my breath caught, heart pounding in my ears. I flinched instinctively, bracing for the sting.

And then a voice, low and commanding, sliced through the uproar.

"Enough!"

The crowd stilled. Silence dropped heavy as everyone turned. Lucas stood at the edge of the square, his eyes like steel, his presence alone enough to silence the mob.

He strode forward, his gaze fixed first on the woman, then on me. He stepped in front of me without hesitation, shielding me completely.

"She is under my protection," he said coldly, his voice carrying through the square. "Anyone who lays a hand on her answers to me."

The woman's hand trembled, then dropped to her side. The others backed away slowly, murmuring again, this time in hushed tones.

I looked up at Lucas, my chest still rising and falling quickly. Relief washed through me, but so did confusion. His glare hadn't softened, not toward the people, not toward me.

"She stays," he repeated, his tone final.

And just like that, the tension broke. The townspeople scattered, leaving me trembling beside the man I wasn't sure was my savior... or my jailer.

The crowd dispersed reluctantly, their whispers trailing behind them like smoke. My knees felt weak, but I forced myself to stand tall behind Lucas's broad frame.

He didn't look at me. Not once. He simply turned on his heel and muttered, "Follow me."

And though part of me wanted to argue, my feet moved anyway, following the man who had just saved me from strangers... but whose silence frightened me more than their anger.

LUCAS' POV

The ride back to the mansion was thick with silence. Not even Melody's timid attempts at small talk could cut through it. When the car pulled up, I stepped out first, my stride sharp, deliberate. Inside, the marble floors echoed under my boots as I paced the length of the grand hall, every thought grinding against the next.

She had walked into town like she owned it. Stood before the people as if she had earned their respect. And when they turned on her, it was me who had to step in.

I turned, my eyes locking on her where she sat stiffly on the edge of a velvet chair, her hands folded neatly in her lap. She looked calm. Too calm. As if she hadn't nearly been struck minutes ago.

I moved closer, one hand gripping the back of her chair, leaning down just enough that my shadow swallowed hers.

"What exactly was your plan in town?" My voice was low, edged with steel. "To parade yourself before people who don't know you? To invite their doubt? Their anger?"

Her head tilted up, eyes meeting mine without a flicker of fear. Stubborn. Defiant.

"My plan," she said evenly, "was to meet the people who are as much mine as they are yours."

The words struck like a challenge.

"You think standing in front of them makes them yours?" I snapped, my hand tightening on the chair. "Respect isn't inherited, Elena. It's earned. And today, you nearly lost theirs before you even began."

She stood abruptly, closing the space between us so fast my hand slipped from the chair. Her chin lifted, her voice steady.

"This is my island too, Lucas. My uncle left it to me. You may not like it, but you don't get to decide if I belong here."

For a moment, silence stretched between us, heavy and sharp. Her eyes burned into mine, refusing to back down.

And for the first time in years, I realized someone wasn't afraid of me.

Her words lingered in the air like sparks threatening to ignite something bigger. I hadn't expected her to rise up and face me head-on, not after what happened in the town square. But she didn't stop there.

"I didn't need your help," she said firmly, her eyes never leaving mine. "I had things under control."

A dry laugh escaped me. "Is that so?"

I took a step forward, slow and deliberate. She took one back. Another step, and another, until her back brushed against the tall bookshelf in the corner of the room. Trapped.

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, but she didn't look away. Not once.

Inside, two thoughts warred in her mind: Why does he always have to get under my skin? And If I give in now, he'll think he's won.

I braced a hand against the shelf just above her shoulder, leaning in close enough to catch the quick rhythm of her breath.

"You think you could have handled them?" My voice was low, each word deliberate. "Those people would have torn you apart if I hadn't stepped in."

Her lips parted as if to argue, but no sound came. The silence between us pressed heavier than the walls of the mansion itself.

For one dizzying moment, neither of us moved.

"I-I could have handled them," she stammered, though the faint quiver in her voice betrayed her.

My lips curved into the ghost of a smirk, my eyes narrowing as if I'd already won the argument.

But then her chin lifted, steadying herself. Her voice firmed. "I will earn their respect, one way or another. And there's nothing you can do to stop me."

I froze, hand still pressed to the bookshelf, my gaze, dark and unreadable.

"This island may have been under your control for years, but don't forget, it's mine too. Uncle Frederick made sure of that. And if you think I'll spend the next year cowering in your shadow, you're mistaken."

She pushed away from the shelf, brushing past me with a defiance that made my jaw clench.

At the doorway, she paused just long enough to throw the final blow over her shoulder. "You don't scare me, Lucas. Not anymore."

Then she disappeared down the hall, her footsteps fading toward her room, leaving me standing in the silence of the library, her words echoing louder than the clock ticking on the wall.

For the first time in years, I wasn't sure if I was losing control... or if control had just slipped into her hands.

The echo of her footsteps faded, but her words refused to leave with them.

I stood frozen, one hand still pressed against the shelf where she'd been cornered. My jaw tightened, my pulse a steady drum beneath my skin.

She had looked me in the eye. Defiant. Unafraid.

Most people...hell, everyone lowered their gaze when I closed in. They shifted, faltered, broke under the weight of my silence. But not her. She stumbled, yes. But she recovered. She fought back.

My lips pressed into a thin line. "Earn their respect?" I muttered under my breath, pacing slowly across the room. The idea was laughable. The townspeople weren't easy to win over. They followed strength, discipline. Not warmth. Not... whatever she thought she had to offer.

And yet...

I paused at the tall window, staring out at the glittering sea. The memory of her fire still burned in my mind, stirring something I hadn't felt in years. Irritation, yes, but also something far more dangerous.

I clenched my fists, forcing the thought away. She wasn't here to impress me. She wasn't here to play queen.

This was my island. My people. My rules.

And I'd be damned if I let her take that away.

ELENA'S POV

I slammed the door behind me, pressing my back against it as though I needed the wood to hold me upright. My chest rose and fell sharply, the echoes of his voice still ringing in my ears.

What was that? The way he stood over me, every word dripping with authority, every step shrinking the space until I had nowhere to go. For a terrifying moment, I thought I might break.

But I didn't. I'd held my ground. I'd told him what I needed to say.

I exhaled shakily and pushed off the door, pacing to the bed where I dropped heavily onto the mattress. My hands were trembling, though whether from fear, anger, or... something else, I wasn't sure.

Because the truth was, Lucas Vance wasn't just infuriating. He was... God help me... he was magnetic. The sharp line of his jaw, the intensity in his eyes, the way his voice curled low when he said "is that so?". I hated how it made my stomach twist.

I ran a hand through my hair, groaning. "Get a grip, Elena. He's arrogant. Overbearing. A complete menace."

And yet the memory of being cornered against the bookshelf replayed in my mind, only this time my thoughts strayed dangerously close to what might have happened if I hadn't found my voice again.

I shook the thought off, forcing myself to focus. He wasn't the point. The point was me. This island. Uncle Frederick's letter. My responsibility.

Still, as I lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, I couldn't stop the flush that crept into my cheeks.

One way or another, I would earn the town's respect.

And if Lucas Vance thought he could intimidate me out of it, then he was about to find out just how stubborn I could be.

A sharp knock broke through my thoughts, snapping me out of the little daydream I'd slipped into.

"Elena?" Melody's voice carried through the door.

"Come in," I said quickly.

She stepped in with her usual polite smile, though I noticed a flicker of guilt in her eyes. "I wanted to apologize... for what happened in town today. The people can be harsh, but they'll come around."

I waved it off. "Don't worry about it. I'll earn their respect one way or another."

Melody nodded, then brightened. "Well, I do have some news that might cheer you up. Your request for an interview at Vance Corporations was approved."

My brows shot up. "Seriously? That was fast."

"Yes. They don't usually grant interviews this quickly, but I suppose being the new head of Erténa helped move things along," she said.

I leaned back on the bed, relief washing over me. "Good. At least I'll have something to do instead of rotting away in this mansion all day."

Melody tilted her head. "You don't like the idea of living easy?"

"Not if it means doing nothing. I need something productive, something that feels like mine, not just inheriting Uncle Frederick's fortune."

Her expression softened before turning serious. "Vance Corporations is... well, it's no easy place. They're powerful, and their CEO is known for being brilliant, but also ruthless. People say Mr Vance doesn't forgive mistakes."

I let out a dry laugh. "Sounds like a typical man in power. Arrogant, controlling, untouchable. I've dealt with worse."

Melody didn't laugh with me. Instead, she gave a small, uneasy smile, almost as if she knew something I didn't.

I glanced at the bold Vance Corporations logo at the top of the envelope, a stubborn smile tugging at my lips. "Then I guess I'll just have to prove myself to them."

Melody tilted her head. "And what did you have in mind?"

A slow smile curved my lips. "I'll apply for Marketing Assistant, maybe. It's the perfect way to be useful while I'm here."

Melody's brows lifted in surprise, but I pressed on. "If Lucas thinks I'll just sit around like a pretty doll, he's wrong. I'll make my own place here. One way or another."

The conviction in my voice surprised even me. For the first time since stepping foot on Erténa, I didn't just feel like someone's pawn. I felt like I was finally about to play my own game.

ELENA's POV

The morning light spilled into my room, golden and soft, reminding me that today wasn't just another day to drift around the mansion. Today, I had a purpose. My interview at Vance Corporations was at eleven, and though I tried to steady my nerves, my heart beat faster with every tick of the clock.

"Melody!" I called.

She appeared almost instantly, as if she'd been waiting. "Yes, miss?"

I smiled. "Don't 'miss' me today. I need you as a friend right now, not just an assistant. Help me pick an outfit?"

Her eyes brightened, and she nodded quickly. Together, we pulled open the wardrobe doors, the neat rows of dresses and blouses suddenly overwhelming. I ran a hand across the fabrics, chewing my lip.

"This one's too formal," I muttered, pushing aside a stiff navy dress. "This one's too casual..."

Melody picked out a soft cream blouse with delicate buttons and paired it with a fitted pencil skirt. "This strikes a balance. Professional, but approachable."

I held it against myself in the mirror. "Hmm. You might be right. What about shoes?"

She crouched, scanning through the options. "These," she said, holding up a pair of nude heels. "They'll lengthen your legs but won't scream that you're trying too hard."

I laughed, genuinely. "Look at you. Who knew you had such an eye for fashion?"

A playful smile tugged at her lips. "Maybe I'm rubbing off on you."

We spent the next few minutes giggling like sisters, me trying on different earrings, Melody fussing over which jacket gave off the strongest impression. It felt... easy. Like we weren't just Madame and her assitant, but two women trying to figure life out together.

Finally, dressed and satisfied, I gave a little spin. "What do you think?"

Her eyes softened. "You look like you already got the job."

Warmth filled my chest. For the first time since stepping foot in this mansion, I felt less alone.

We went downstairs together, the dining room glowing with morning light. The scent of fresh bread and coffee welcomed us as we sat across from each other.

"I still can't believe you're doing this," Melody said as she poured me a cup of coffee. "Why Vance Corporations? Why a clothing company?"

I paused, fingers brushing the rim of the cup. Her question tugged at memories I'd tried to bury.

"Because it's who I am," I said finally.

She tilted her head, encouraging me to go on.

I exhaled slowly. "Uncle Frederick owned a fashion line back in the city. After college, I worked there. Started small, worked my way up. It was hard, but it was mine. My dream."

Her eyes lit with surprise. "I didn't know that."

I gave a short laugh, bitter at the edges. "Not many people did. My aunt and cousin made sure of it. They convinced Uncle Frederick I wasn't ready, that I'd be better off managing the house and leaving the company to Tiffany." I spat her name like poison. "And just like that, everything I worked for slipped through my fingers."

Melody's expression darkened with sympathy, but she stayed quiet, letting me speak.

"For a while, I thought maybe they were right. Maybe I was better off fading into the background." I pushed the plate away, my appetite gone. "But Erténa feels different. It feels like a second chance. Like I finally get to decide again who I want to be. And if I'm going to fight for anything, it'll be fashion. Always fashion."

Melody's smile returned, gentle and proud. "So Vance Corporations isn't just a job. It's a way back to yourself."

"Exactly." My voice was steady now, conviction hardening inside me. "This time, no one is going to take it from me."

By the time Melody and I finished breakfast, the morning sun was already spilling bright across the terrace. We didn't linger. My interview was at eleven, and I wanted to arrive with enough time to settle my nerves.

We walked out together, her tablet tucked under one arm and a smile never leaving her face. The sleek black car was already waiting at the entrance, polished enough to catch the shimmer of the sky.

"Ready?" Melody asked, pulling open the door for me.

I nodded, clutching my small purse a little tighter. "Ready."

Sliding into the backseat, I let my gaze drift past the window as the driver started the engine. The world outside the mansion blurred into neat roads and familiar landscapes, but my mind was already far ahead, on the tall glass building that housed Vance Corporations.

This wasn't just about getting a job. It was about reclaiming the piece of myself Tiffany and my aunt had stolen years ago. Today, I was stepping back into my own dream.

LUCAS' POV

The steady hum of the office filled the room. The faint click of keyboards outside my door, the soft shuffle of papers, the low buzz of phone calls. I sat behind my desk, fingers flying across the keyboard until a knock sounded.

"Come in," I called without looking up.

John, my assistant, walked in carrying a neat stack of files. "These are the interview candidates for today, sir."

I pushed my laptop aside and took the folder. Flipping through them, I skimmed the names, credentials, and experience. Nothing unusual. Until my eyes froze on one file.

Elena Hayes.

My brows drew together. What the hell was she doing here?

I leaned back in my chair, the corner of my mouth tightening as I read the details. Education in fashion and design. Previous experience under Frederick Alden's company. A resume that, frankly, wasn't half bad.

But of all the companies in the world, she chose mine?

Did she have any idea I owned Vance Corporations? Or was she blindly walking into this as she had done with the townspeople yesterday?

My fingers tapped against the file, the faintest smirk tugging at my lips.

"Sir?" John asked, noticing my pause.

"Nothing," I said, closing the folder. "Schedule her. I want to see this one myself."

If Elena thought she could march into my world and claim a place as easily as she claimed Erténa, she was about to learn just how sharp the line between us truly was.

ELENA'S POV

As soon as I stepped out of the car, my eyes widened. The building was even more breathtaking up close. Glass walls stretched sky-high, catching the morning sun and reflecting it like a jewel in the city's skyline.

Inside, the atrium gleamed with polished marble floors that reflected the soft glow of ceiling lights. A massive digital screen stretched across the far wall, displaying sharp suits and bold dresses from Vance's latest collection. Confidence and sophistication in every stitch.

"Impressive," I murmured, unable to hide the smile tugging at my lips. "Whoever runs this place has flawless taste."

I didn't notice how Melody's expression shifted at my words. Her smile was faint, polite, but her eyes carried something unspoken. She knew exactly who ran this place. She knew, and yet she stayed silent, because telling me now, here, might dim the fire of my excitement.

We reached the front desk, and a worker directed us toward the interview rooms. The rule was clear: only candidates beyond this point.

Melody gave my hand a quick squeeze before letting go. "I'll be right here waiting, Elena."

I nodded, adjusting my bag and taking a steady breath. The click of my heels echoed against marble as I walked toward the doors, my heart pounding with anticipation.

The waiting room buzzed with nervous energy. Rows of chairs lined the sleek, modern space, each filled with men and women clutching neatly organized portfolios. The air smelled faintly of coffee and ambition.

I took a seat, crossing my legs and smoothing down my skirt, trying to look as calm as possible. Melody had wished me luck before I came in, and her encouraging smile still lingered in my mind.

A few minutes passed before the door opened again, and a woman in a tailored navy dress stepped in, scanning a clipboard.

"Ms. Elena Hayes?" her voice rang clear.

I blinked, sitting up straighter. "Yes, that's me."

She nodded once, brisk and professional. "The CEO has requested to see you personally. Please follow me."

A murmur rippled through the other candidates. My brows knitted. The CEO? Why me? Still, I rose, clutching my bag tighter, and followed her out of the room.

We stepped into a sleek elevator, mirrors lining the walls, our reflections multiplying in every direction. I caught sight of my face. Bright-eyed but puzzled.

"The CEO wants to interview me personally?" I asked cautiously.

The woman only smiled faintly, pressing the button for the top floor. "Yes. He'll explain."

My heart thudded in my chest as the elevator hummed upward. Floor after floor fell away until we reached the top, where the doors slid open onto a quiet corridor lined with frosted glass.

At the end of the hall stood a pair of double doors. The woman gestured toward them. "You may go in. Good luck."

She left me there, heels clicking back toward the elevator, leaving me alone with nothing but the silence of the corridor and the pounding of my own heartbeat.

I swallowed hard, lifted my hand, and knocked.

"Come in," a deep voice called from inside.

The sound sent a chill racing down my spine. I knew that voice. Too well.

I stepped into the office, the door closing softly behind me. The space was sleek, modern, and overwhelming, but all of that faded when my gaze landed on the man behind the desk.

Lucas.

My breath caught before I could stop it. He looked up from a file, his dark eyes locking on mine with the same intensity that had unsettled me since the moment we met in Erténa.

He wore a charcoal-gray suit, perfectly tailored, the crisp white shirt beneath it open just enough at the collar to soften the sharp authority he radiated. His tie hung loose, as though he had been too busy to care, and yet somehow the imperfection made him look even more impossibly composed. The fabric stretched across his shoulders in a way that made it clear he wasn't just built for boardrooms.

For one dangerous moment, I simply took him in. The clean lines of his jaw, the way his watch gleamed faintly when he set the file aside, the air of quiet command that seemed stitched into him as effortlessly as the suit he wore. Attractive didn't even begin to cover it, and that realization irritated me more than I could admit.

"Elena Hayes," he said slowly, as if testing the sound of my name. His voice carried a weight that filled the room as easily as his presence did. "What an interesting surprise."

I straightened my shoulders. "I didn't know you were the CEO."

His lips curved into something between a smirk and a challenge. "And yet, here you are. Applying for a job in my company."

Heat rushed to my face, but I forced myself not to look away. "I'm qualified, Lucas. I've studied fashion, I've worked in the field, and I have every right to be here like anyone else."

He leaned back in his chair, studying me with maddening calm. "So, this isn't just a game to you? You're really willing to work under me?"

"It's not about you," I shot back, my voice steadier than I felt. "It's about me and the chance to build the career I've been denied before. I can handle the job."

Silence followed, thick and heavy. His eyes swept over me, sharp and measuring, as though trying to peel back every layer and find a weakness I didn't want to reveal.

Then, without warning, he stood. The scrape of his chair against the floor echoed in the quiet room. My pulse jumped as he walked around the desk, each step closing the distance until he was in front of me.

He stopped close enough that I had to tilt my chin upward to hold his gaze. His cologne lingered faintly in the air, warm and unnervingly distracting.

"You sound confident," he murmured.

"I am," I whispered back, though my heart raced so fast it almost betrayed me.

He studied me a moment longer, his expression unreadable, then lowered his voice, steady and final. "If you truly want to prove yourself here, Elena, you'll do it as my assistant."

The words hung between us, heavy and unexpected. Part of me wanted to recoil at the thought of working so closely with him, of being caught in his orbit every single day. Yet another part, one I didn't dare name, thrummed with something dangerously close to anticipation.