Corner Office Confessions

Nerisa Smith straightened her blazer for the third time in as many minutes, staring up at the glass tower that housed Vance Enterprises. Sixty-two floors of steel and ambition, and somewhere at the top of it sat the man who terrified an entire industry. She'd told herself she wouldn't be intimidated. She'd told herself a lot of things this morning. The lobby alone cost more than her mother's entire house — marble floors, a waterfall wall, security guards who looked like they moonlighted as bodyguards for heads of state. Nerisa clutched her portfolio to her chest and joined the stream of interns heading toward the elevators. "First day?" a girl beside her asked, noticing Nerisa's white knuckles. "That obvious?" "Everyone looks like that their first day. Just don't end up in a room alone with him." The girl's voice dropped. "Nathan Vance doesn't do warm." Nerisa filed that away as the elevator doors slid open onto the top floor. Glass offices stretched in every direction, all sharp angles and cold light. And then she saw him — tall, dark-haired, unbuttoning his jacket as he crossed the floor without once looking up from his phone. He didn't need to look up. The whole room rearranged itself around him anyway. Nerisa swallowed hard, gripped her portfolio tighter, and stepped forward. Whatever this was about to be, there was no turning back now.