Chapter 1

The elevator to the forty-second floor felt like a slow descent into hell. Sophia Martinez pressed her back against the mirrored wall, her worn leather portfolio clutched against her chest. Through the glass walls of Sterling Industries’ tower, Manhattan glittered below a city that ate girls like her for breakfast.

She shouldn’t be here.

Alexander Sterling went through assistants like most people went through coffee filters. The last one lasted forty-seven days. The one before that? Thirty-two. But the salary they’d offered could change everything could save her mother, could kill her student loans, could give her the life she’d been fighting for since Queens.

“Forty-second floor.”

The doors opened to reveal wealth that hurt to look at. Marble. Modern art. A reception desk that seemed to float in mid-air.

Behind it sat a blonde woman who looked like she’d stepped out of Vogue. “Miss Martinez?” British accent, cold smile. “I’m Catherine Whitmore. A word of advice? Mr. Sterling’s last assistant was found crying in the supply closet. The one before that transferred to our Anchorage office. In January.”

Sophia straightened her spine. “How encouraging. I suppose the bar is set appropriately low.”

Catherine’s eyes flickered with surprise. “Indeed. Shall we proceed to the execution I mean, the interview?”

The walk to Alexander Sterling’s office felt like crossing a battlefield. Staff watched her with morbid fascination. They’d seen this before hopeful candidates walking into the lion’s den.

Catherine knocked once. Sharp. Final.

“Enter.”

The voice was deep, cultured, and resonated in Sophia’s chest in ways that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with danger she wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

The office could have housed her entire apartment building. Floor-to-ceiling windows. Original artwork. And behind a desk the size of a small country sat the man himself.

Alexander Sterling was nothing like his photographs.

Dark hair. Classical features marred by a scar running from temple to cheekbone. Steel-gray eyes that assessed her with the intensity of a hostile takeover. He was devastating the kind of beautiful that was dangerous, that made smart women do stupid things.

“Sophia Martinez.” Her name in his voice sounded different. Richer. “Twenty-four. Columbia MBA on partial scholarship. Previous employment: waitress, retail associate, temp work, and most recently, Morrison, Burke & Associates which went bankrupt amid embezzlement allegations six months ago.” He leaned back, predatory. “Tell me, should I be concerned that you have a talent for choosing sinking ships?”

The question was designed to rattle her. Classic power play.

“On the contrary.” She stepped forward instead of retreating. “I have a talent for swimming to safety when the ship starts to sink. I was the one who noticed the discrepancies at Morrison, Burke. I tried to alert the partners. When they chose to cover their tracks, I made sure the junior staff knew to start looking for exits before the bottom fell out.”

Something shifted in his attention. He was really listening now.

“How noble.” No mockery in his tone. “And yet here you are, interviewing with a man significantly more ruthless than embezzling lawyers. Why?”

The question hung between them, loaded.

Because she needed the money desperately. But also because Alexander Sterling was brilliant. Watching him work was like watching a master craftsman. He didn’t just play the game—he rewrote the rules.

She wanted to learn from him. Wanted to see if she could survive in his world.

“Because I’m tired of working for men afraid of their own shadows,” she said, meeting his gaze directly. “I want to work for someone who knows how to win.”

The silence crackled with electricity. Alexander studied her with those penetrating gray eyes, reading her like a book every motivation, every desperate hope, every hidden dream.

Finally, he smiled. Sharp enough to cut glass.

“Tell me what you know about my family.”

She’d done her homework. “Your father was accused of insider trading in 2009. The family lost everything. Your mother died six months after the scandal broke. You were thirteen.” She paused. “You disappeared for two years, resurfaced at fifteen, graduated valedictorian, full scholarship to Harvard, summa cum laude at twenty. First million by twenty-two.”

“And now, at twenty-eight, I’m worth 2.3 billion dollars.” He stood, and God, he was tall—six-foot-two of predatory grace. He moved around the desk, stopping close enough that she caught his scent. Expensive cologne over something darker, more primitive. “The question is, why should I trust someone from Queens with the intimate details of my life, when the most powerful families in New York have spent fifteen years trying to destroy me?”

Testing her again. Pushing to see if she’d crack.

But Sophia had fought her way through Columbia on scholarships and sheer determination. She didn’t intimidate easily.

“Because I don’t have anything to gain from your destruction.” She took a half-step closer. “Those powerful families see you as competition. But I’m not part of that world. I don’t have blue blood or trust funds. What I have is student loans, a sick mother, and absolutely nothing to lose.”

“Nothing to lose.” He tasted the phrase. “That makes someone either very dangerous or very loyal.”

“In my experience, it makes them very motivated.”

He was close enough now that she could see the flecks of darker gray in his eyes, could count the individual lashes. Close enough to notice the jagged edge of his scar.

“Your references describe you as ‘determined,’ ‘resourceful,’ and ‘surprisingly resilient.’” His voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “They also mention you have a tendency to challenge authority when you believe you’re right.”

“Is that a problem?”

“That depends on whether you’re challenging me or helping me challenge someone else.”

The implication hung between them, heavy with possibility. He wasn’t looking for a yes-woman. He was looking for a weapon—someone smart enough to anticipate his needs, ruthless enough to handle corporate warfare, and brave enough to tell him when he was about to make a mistake.

Someone with nothing to lose and everything to prove.

“I’m not afraid of you, Mr. Sterling.”

“You should be.” Something like approval flickered in his voice. “Everyone else is.”

“Everyone else isn’t me.”

His gaze traveled slowly down her body and back up. Clinical precision layered over heat that made her skin warm and her pulse quicken.

“You start Monday. Seven AM sharp. The salary is as discussed—more money than you’ve ever seen. In return, I own your time, your attention, your absolute discretion. You will know everything about my business, my schedule, my personal affairs. You’ll work harder than you’ve ever worked, longer hours than you thought possible.”

He moved even closer. Close enough that she felt the heat radiating from his body, close enough that his breath stirred the fine hairs at her temple.

“Cross me, betray me, or bore me, and you’ll discover why they call me the most ruthless CEO in Manhattan. Succeed, however…” His smile was predatory, beautiful, completely terrifying. “And you’ll learn what real power means. The question is: are you brave enough to find out which one it will be?”

Sophia lifted her chin, meeting his challenge. “I guess we’re both about to find out, Mr. Sterling.”

Alexander Sterling laughed—dark honey and broken glass. “Indeed we are. Catherine will provide the paperwork. Welcome to Sterling Industries, Miss Martinez. Try not to disappoint me.”

As she left his office, she could feel his eyes burning into her back like brands. She’d gotten the job. She’d also signed some kind of devil’s bargain.

Alexander Sterling was going to own her time, her energy, her attention.

The question was: what was he planning to do with that ownership?

And more importantly, why did the thought make her pulse race with something that definitely wasn’t fear?