THE DEVIL'S ASSISTANT

The Devil's Door

Selena:

The elevator doors opened and I almost turned back around.

Croft Tower was nothing like I expected. It wasn't just an office building — it was a statement. Cold black marble floors that reflected the chandelier above like a mirror. Floor to ceiling glass walls overlooking Manhattan like the city itself was on display for whoever sat at the top. Everything was sharp, expensive and intimidating.

Everything screamed power.

I clutched my folder tighter and reminded myself why I was here.

Mom's medication. The landlord's third notice. The number in my bank account that had stopped being funny weeks ago.

Just a job. Just money. Just survive.

The receptionist at the front desk looked me up and down the way people look at something that doesn't belong. I was wearing my best blazer — the one with the small burn mark on the sleeve I hoped nobody would notice.

She noticed.

"Selena Voss?" she asked without smiling.

"Yes."

"Mr. Croft will see you on the 50th floor." She paused. "If I were you I'd choose my words carefully up there. His last assistant lasted four days."

I forced a smile. "I'll keep that in mind."

The elevator ride to the 50th floor felt like ascending into something I couldn't name. My reflection stared back at me from the mirrored walls — tired eyes, a jaw set with determination and hands that wouldn't stop trembling no matter how hard I willed them to.

Stop it. You need this.

The doors opened.

And there he was.

Damien Croft stood with his back to me, hands clasped behind him, staring out at New York City like he was deciding whether or not to buy it. He was tall. Broader than I expected. Dark suit, dark hair, and an energy in the room that made the air feel thinner somehow.

He didn't turn around when I walked in.

He didn't acknowledge me at all.

I stood there for a full minute before I decided I wasn't going to let him intimidate me before he'd even looked at me.

"Mr. Croft." My voice came out steadier than I felt. "I'm Selena Voss. I'm here for the assistant position."

Silence.

Then slowly — deliberately — he turned around.

And I forgot how to breathe.

His eyes were dark. Not warm dark. Cold dark. The kind of dark that had seen things and felt nothing about them. His jaw was sharp, his expression unreadable and the way he looked at me wasn't the way men usually looked at me.

It wasn't interest. It wasn't dismissal.

It was assessment. Like I was something he was deciding the value of.

"You're late." His voice was low. Quiet. The kind of quiet that was louder than shouting.

I glanced at my watch. "I'm two minutes early actually."

Something shifted in his expression. So small I almost missed it.

"Sit down Miss Voss."

Damien

She was not what I expected.

I had reviewed her file the night before. Twenty four. No degree. Three jobs simultaneously for the past two years. The kind of resume that told a story without saying it out loud — desperation dressed up as work ethic.

I expected someone nervous. Apologetic. Eager to please.

She walked into my office like she was walking into a battle she intended to win.

When I didn't acknowledge her she didn't fidget. Didn't clear her throat. Didn't fill the silence with nervous chatter the way everyone else always did.

She waited.

And then she corrected me.

Two minutes early.

I sat down across from her and watched her fight to hold my gaze. Most people looked away within seconds. My father taught me that trick — hold eye contact long enough and people reveal everything. Their fear. Their weakness. Their desperation.

Selena Voss looked back at me like she was doing the exact same calculation.

Interesting.

"Your last employer called you the most stubborn employee he'd ever had." I opened her file without looking at it. "He meant it as a complaint."

"I took it as a compliment." she said.

"I know." I leaned back. "That's why you're sitting in that chair and not outside with the other twelve candidates."

She blinked. Just once. The only crack in her composure.

"The position requires complete availability." I continued. "Days. Nights. Weekends. You will know my schedule better than your own. You will anticipate my needs before I voice them. You will handle information that never leaves this building." I paused. "And you will not ask questions about things that don't concern you."

Her chin lifted slightly. "And if something concerns me?"

The corner of my mouth moved. Almost a smile. Almost.

"Nothing here concerns you Miss Voss. Only the job."

She held my gaze for a long moment. And in that moment something shifted in the room — something I hadn't felt in a very long time.

Something I didn't have a name for yet.

"When do I start?" she asked.

I looked at her for one more second longer than necessary.

"Monday. Don't be late."