Chapter 1
The cut crystal glass sat in front of me and caught the light. It was too heavy for what was inside it, amber whiskey barely an inch deep, the facets throwing little sharp reflections onto the dark walnut table. I kept my hands flat on the wood so they wouldn't shake. Beyond the glass, past the two decanters that hadn't been touched, the floor-to-ceiling windows showed the city smeared by snow, the skyscrapers lit up and blurred, and the room's warm tungsten light reflected back at us so it felt like we were floating in it.
He looked comfortable. That was the contradiction that wouldn't settle in my chest. I was holding my breath without meaning to, my white shirt collar tight against my throat, my hair pulled back so every micro-expression had nowhere to hide, and across from me he was at his peak, at ease in his black suit jacket and black open-collar shirt, stubble shadowing his jaw, one hand resting lazily around his own glass like he owned the table and the tower and the night outside.
My name is Claire Merson and that night I was trying not to blink.
The two men in dark suits stood behind me. I could feel them without looking, hands clasped, their weight shifting every few seconds. The radiator ticked. Someone's shoe creaked against the carpet. He watched me for a long beat, his smile still there but thinner now, his eyes not leaving my face.
"Are you still a virgin, Miss Merson?" he asked.
The words landed flat and precise in the quiet room. He said them slowly, like he was tasting each one, his voice low enough that the guards would have to pretend they hadn't heard. I felt the heat rush up my neck before I could stop it. My fingers pressed harder into the walnut. I heard myself breathe in through my nose, restrained, and I made myself hold his gaze. I didn't look at the glass. I didn't look at the guards.
There was a pause. I counted it in heartbeats. Then I answered.
"Not after tonight."
My voice didn't shake. That surprised me. I said it steady, my lips moving with the effort of keeping everything else still, and I kept my eyes on his. The snow blurred the lights behind him and for a second the whole boardroom felt like it tilted toward his side of the table.
One of the guards made a small sound behind me, a shift of weight, a breath that turned into a word.
"Excuse me."
He didn't say it to me. He said it to the air, to the room, like he wasn't sure if he'd been meant to hear what I said. The other guard glanced down at the carpet, then at the window, anywhere but at the table. The silence after that was heavier than before, no music, just the low room tone and the faint clink of glass when I accidentally brushed the crystal with my fingertip.
Across from me, the man's amused smile faded completely. His jaw tightened. He tilted his head just a fraction and studied me again, slower this time, the eye crinkles gone, his expression going cold and deliberate. A small, soft exhale came out of him, almost a laugh but not.
"Well, this has become significantly more interesting," he said.
He said it quietly, to himself as much as to me, and he let the words hang. He didn't look at the guards when he spoke, but they both straightened a little, hands still clasped, waiting for what they knew was coming. My throat was dry. I swallowed. The whiskey in front of me caught the light again and I stared at it so I wouldn't have to stare at him.
Then he straightened in his chair. His shoulders squared. His hand flattened on the table and he looked past me toward the two men at the door.
"Everyone out. Now."
May you like
His voice wasn't louder but it had changed. The easy amusement was gone and what was left was stern, an order with no room for a question. I heard the guards shift, their shoes moving on the carpet, a rustle of suit fabric. One of them took half a step toward the boardroom door, his hand reaching for the handle, then hesitated, glancing back at the man for confirmation, at me for a fraction of a second.
Nobody left yet. The door didn't open. The snow kept falling beyond the glass, the city lights bleeding in the window, and the room held in that strange, tight silence where everyone was waiting to see if the order would be obeyed. He kept his hard stare on me across the walnut table, his glass untouched, and I sat with my hands still flat, my breathing shallow, knowing the next breath I took would be in a room with just the two of us.
