Owned by the Billionaire King

Liora‍‌‍‍‌‍‌‍‍‌ Vale discovered two things the very morning that her life got terminated. Firstly, silence can be heavier than noise. Secondly, elevators have different smells when they are going to betray you. The transparent cabin swept quiet as nothing, through the forty-seven floors of Blackwell Tower, From the other side, the city looked back at Liora, an army of skyscrapers, glassy and shiny, reaching for the clouds. It reminded her of those damn aristocrats that established themselves off the labour of the underprivileged poor and called it ambition. She clutched the leather folder tighter to her chest and exhaled, the way her mother had taught her when panic was trying to take over her sense of reasoning. You need this job. You are worthy of this job. The elevator changed. “Forty-ninth floor,” the robotic voice sang dang cheerfully like it wasn’t about to lead her right into the lion’s den with marble floors. Liora stepped out. The executive wing of Blackwell Capital was white and cold, zero warmth. "Good day ma'am. Welcome to the executive wing, how may I help you?," The receptionist almost drawled at her. She didn't wait for an answer. Liora saw her eyes squint at the folder. Her lips seemed to mouth "Liora" and then her fingers began to move perfunctorily about the files on the table. She hesitated for a second too long, before she got up. "Miss Liora Vale," her boredom was unmistakable. She handed her a paper. "He's waiting for you." She turned. He, not they, not the panel. You would think she would catch the hint. Liora followed the the receptionist down the hall, her heels clicking too distinctly for the place. One side of the corridor had windows as tall as the wall. The city below looked tiny. They arrived at a pair of double doors. Dark wood, no label. The door was slightly ajar. She stepped beside the receptionist. “You may go in” the receptionist told her, once again bored as hell and turned as she said so. Liora took in a breath, eyes closed. You can do this. She pushed the door by its handle. When she entered, he didn’t stand. Adrian Blackwell was reclined behind an expansive obsidian table. So unnecessarily large because they were not so much things on it anyway. His body was relaxed, hands steepled, and eyes already on hers. He was not the one she had in mind. Older, yes. But he looked around thirty, well-defined features, dark hair brushed back in a casual manner, eyes a cool gray. His neck was barren. He didn't have on a tie, so the top button of his shirt was undone. That alone was a scene of its own. Liora found herself holding her breath. The place had a clean scent of cologne. “Miss Vale,” he uttered. She stiffened. “Mr. Blackwell.” A smile played on his lips. Just the look of a conman. “Sit.” Not a question, not please. She did, however. The silence was insufferable. He didn’t look at her resume. Didn’t even pretend to read her file. He just watched. Her heartbeat accelerated and she nearly looked behind her stupidly not really knowing what else to do. Perhaps he was looking at something else behind her. Screw this. She broke the silence. “I'm here for the position of the executive assistant.” “Yes.” His tone was husky and slow. “Indeed, you are.” She looked at him, surprised. “…And?” “And you are overqualified,” he went on, ignoring her interruption. “Number one in your class. Two scholarships you never applied for. An internship you have no memory of interviewing for. A job offer from last year that was quietly rescinded.” Her back became straight and strong. “I don’t quite see the connection between that and—” “It is with me that this is all about.” His words choice was just wrong—and on purpose. Her lips went dry. “Sir, I-I don’t quite understand—” “You will.” He pushed out a drawer from his side of the table and took out a piece of paper. Snapping it shut, he pushed it to her. The paper looked highly official with its dark stamp and highly detailed text. Definitely not her resume. At the very top, in large print was her full name. LIORA VALE. She gulped. "And what might this be?” her voice was cautious. “Your file.” “I didn’t consent to this” “You didn’t need to.” His eyes remained on hers, steady. A man like him had one convoluted way of thinking. Trying to understand it at all would be like finding the exit out of a labyrinth. She shoved the folder away. “If this is an intimidation tactic, I’d better take my application back.” His face moved, amused again. "Interesting" Liora's eyes narrowed. He hit a button on his desk. She hadn't even noticed it was there. The monitor in front of him went on. It displayed numbers; bank statements, receipts, invoices, deposits, all in red. “My rent” she murmured. “My-My account...it was paid just now.” “Yes.” “By you?” She didn't wait for an answer. “You suspended my bank account,” she realised. “You have no right.” Her volume increased, disbelief transitioning to anger. “If you are talking about the lien that has been put on your father’s company, that's different.” Her heart sank. “My father is late.” “But his signatures are not.” No. Her ears deceived her. The room was spinning. “No matter what contract you're looking at, it's not mine,” she said and rose abruptly. “I'm leaving.” “Liora, sit down.” She halted. She slowly turned around. “Don’t.” “You are allowed to leave,” he said in a composed manner. He slightly swivelled side to side in his chair. “Only, your landlord will have already sent the eviction notice. Your mother’s insurance policy ends tomorrow morning. And the lawsuit, which you were unaware of and are being included in, will be delivered by the end of the day.” Her hands curled into fists. She plopped herself back in the seat. Her chest was burning. “Trust me. I don’t bluff.” No one had asked. “What are you after?” Adrian leaned back in his seat like one contemptuous CEO. “Clarity.” He moved another paper to the edge of the desk with his fingers. This was not so long. Much nicer. On the top: MARRIAGE AGREEMENT The paper got blurry fast. Tears rimmed her eyes. "You are insane" she hissed. “Maybe,” he said. “I won’t marry you.” “That is, strictly speaking, irrelevant,” he said, nodding. She chuckled mirthlessly, shaking her head. “You can't force me” "No?" he answered just as a simple manner. “I believe I already have.” Her breath grew shallow. “I’ll call the police.” “Go ahead. However, I’m afraid the document your father signed twenty years ago will be revealed very soon.” He stopped. “Guardianship agreements are… not very popular now. But back then, it was signed by desperate men in desperation.” Her blood ran cold. “Guardianship,” she repeated. Her nails pierced into the skin on her palms. “I am not a minor.” “You were named collateral,” he said softly. “The clause activated this morning.” She was shaking her head. “That’s not real.” He arched a brow. “Do take a look at page six.” Her hands trembled as she she flipped the pages. ACTIVATION AGE: TWENTY-THREE...Today. Adrian got up quietly. He slowly rounded the desk like a predator. “You were never meant to see me before today,” he said. He came up to her face. “You grew exactly as I'd anticipated.” She looked back at him with both terrified and angered. “You watched me?” “I didn’t let anyone harm you,” he said. With that she also stood, pushing her chair back. Her chest wanted to burst. Her eyes burned into his intently.