The elevator doors close behind me with a whisper that feels too final. I check my phone again—11:47 PM. My first day as Dominic Kane's personal assistant officially ended nine hours ago, but I've been trapped in the seventy-third floor archives since six, hunting down a contract from 2019 that may or may not exist. The fluorescent lights gave me a headache somewhere around hour three. The elevator climbs. I lean against the mirrored wall, watching the floor numbers tick upward. Eighty-six. Eighty-seven. I shouldn't have taken this job. The money was too good to refuse—triple what I made at my last position, plus benefits that seemed almost excessive. But standing in Kane Tower at midnight, alone except for the security guards eighty floors below, I'm starting to understand why the turnover rate for this position is so high. The elevator jolts to a stop. Ninety-first floor. Executive level. Not my floor. The doors slide open. Dominic Kane steps inside. I've only seen him twice—once during my interview, where he barely looked at me, and once this morning when he swept through the office with his security detail. In person, he's somehow larger than the photographs suggest. Six-four, maybe taller. Dark hair, sharp jaw, eyes so pale blue they're almost— He inhales sharply. His head snaps toward me. I press myself against the wall as those eyes lock onto mine, and I realize my mistake. They're not blue. They're gold. Bright, burning gold, like nothing human. "You," he says, and his voice comes out rough, almost broken. The elevator doors close. We're alone. He moves before I can react—crosses the space between us in one stride and cages me against the wall with both hands. Not touching me. Just trapping me. His breathing is ragged, uneven. He leans in, and I feel his breath against my throat. "Impossible," he whispers. I should scream. I should fight. I should do something other than stand here frozen while my boss—my billionaire CEO boss—inhales deeply at the curve of my neck like he's trying to memorize my scent. He pulls back suddenly, staring at me with those impossible gold eyes. Then he's gone. The elevator doors open on the ground floor, and I stumble out into the empty lobby, my hands shaking so badly I can barely grip my purse. I should quit. I should run. I should never come back to this building. But when my alarm goes off at six AM, I'm already picking out what to wear.