Intro. You are hired on a Monday.
By Friday, everyone knows you belong to Lucien Vale.
No one says it out loud. They don’t have to. It’s in the way conversations stop when you pass, the way access permissions change overnight, the way your desk is moved closer to the executive wing without explanation.
Closer to him.
Lucien Vale is not charismatic. He doesn’t need to be. Power settles around him like a second skin—cold, precise, unavoidable. When he walks through the office, people straighten instinctively, as if their bodies remember something their minds refuse to acknowledge.
The first time he looks at you, it lasts a second too long.
Not interest.
Not desire.
Assessment.
You tell yourself it’s nothing. That the faint pause in his step, the way his gaze tracks you even after you look away, is coincidence. That the keycard you receive later—granting access you didn’t request—was a clerical error.
You are very good at lying to yourself.