YOU’RE MINE, Miss Intern.

Ann woke to the sound of her mother coughing in the next room. 
She sat up quickly, already reaching for the glass of water she kept on the floor beside her mattress. The apartment was small enough that every sound carried.
 She waited until the coughing slowed, then pressed the back of her hand to her mother’s forehead. It was warm, but not burning. Good enough for now. “Go,” her mother whispered, her eyes still closed. “You’ll miss it.”
 Ann almost said she could stay. The words sat on her tongue the way they always did, but then she looked at the unopened envelopes on the counter and swallowed them. Today was an interview. Not a dream job, not even a real job yet. Just a chance to sit in a room at Damaris Group and hope someone decided she was worth keeping. The train stalled twice. By the time Ann reached the building, her shirt was already wrinkled. She pushed through the glass doors and tried to look like she belonged. The lobby felt too bright and quiet, almost cold. A man in a dark suit rushed past without noticing her, and Ann stumbled backward. Her bag slipped from her shoulder, scattering papers all over the floor. “Sorry, I’m so sorry.” She dropped to her knees and scrambled to gather the scattered papers. A shoe came to a stop beside the last page. Ann looked up, her breath catching. The man standing over her didn’t seem rushed, but he didn’t look kind either. Huge and completely still, he looked down at her as if she were an unexpected problem that had somehow wandered onto his floor. “You’re blocking the entrance,” he said. Heat crawled up her neck. “I dropped—”
 “I can see that.” He bent down, picked up the page with two fingers, and held it out. Their hands didn’t quite touch. Ann muttered another apology and hurried to her feet. By the time she found her voice again, he was already gone, swallowed up by a private elevator that didn’t stop for people like her. A security guard pointed her toward a side desk. “Interview?” “Yes. Ann, for the assistant program.” The woman behind the desk frowned at her screen. “That closed yesterday.” Ann felt cold inside. “I was told to come this morning.”
 There was a pause, followed by a sigh. “One intern quit last night. They need someone on the forty-second floor by nine. If you can start now, you can stay. If not, don’t waste our time.” Ann didn’t let herself think. “I can start now.”
 They printed a temporary badge with her name misspelled and sent her upstairs with a stack of files and no explanation. The elevator was packed with people who smelled like money. Ann stood in the corner and stared at the rising numbers. The doors opened onto the forty-second floor, where phones rang and people talked rapidly all around her. A man waved a tablet like it had personally offended him. “You. New girl, take this to Mr. Damaris. Do not speak unless he asks and do not linger.” Ann took the folder since her hands were empty and her pride could wait. The hallway to the executive offices felt longer than the train ride. She stopped outside a door without a nameplate, everyone already knew who sat there. She knocked once and waited. “Come in,” the voice called out.
 It was familiar, the same voice from the lobby. Ann stepped inside, but the moment she crossed the threshold, she froze. Mikel Damaris stood at the window with his back to her, his jacket off and his phone pressed to his ear. He ended the call without turning. “Put it on the desk. She did, and then he looked at her. Recognition came slowly; the girl from the lobby, the spilled papers, the apology he had not accepted. “You,” he said. Ann forced her chin up. “I’m the new intern. They sent me here with the file.” His stare dropped to her badge, then back to her face. Something unreadable moved behind his eyes. “Then listen carefully,” Mikel said. “In this building, people who drop things do not last. Do not make me notice you again.”