Claimed in the boardroom

Chapter 3.

Chapter 3: Whispers in the Dark

The note trembles in my hand, its words—Get out before you end up like Elise—searing into my brain like a brand. Footsteps echo closer in the penthouse’s dim hallway, slow and deliberate, each one spiking my pulse. My phone’s on the floor, Mia’s voice a faint squawk, but I can’t move. I’m frozen, clutching the paper like it’s a grenade. The Manhattan skyline glitters through the glass walls, mocking my fear with its indifference.

“Who’s there?” I call, my voice sharper than I feel. No answer, just the footsteps, now so close I swear I hear breathing. I drop the note and grab the nearest thing—a heavy crystal paperweight from the nightstand. My heart’s a jackhammer as I edge toward the door, ready to swing.

The footsteps stop. Silence presses in, thick and suffocating. Then, a low voice, familiar but edged with something raw. “Talia, put that down.”

Dorian. I lower the paperweight, my hands shaking, but my relief sours fast. He’s in the doorway, his gray eyes scanning me like I’m a puzzle he can’t solve. His tie’s gone, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, and that scar on his wrist catches the light, making my stomach twist.

“You scared the hell out of me,” I snap, my voice cracking. “What are you doing, creeping around like a ghost?”

He steps closer, his cedar scent hitting me like a drug. “I heard you on the phone. Thought you were in trouble.”

I laugh, bitter. “Trouble? Oh, I’m way past that.” I scoop up the note and thrust it at him. “Explain this.”

His face hardens as he reads it, his fingers tightening on the paper. “Where did you get this?”

“Outside my door, Dorian. Right after Mia told me about your sister.” My voice shakes, but I don’t back down. “Elise. Victor Sloane’s fiancée. Dead in a hit-and-run that wasn’t an accident. Ring any bells?”

His eyes flicker, a storm brewing behind them. “You’re digging where you shouldn’t.”

“Don’t you dare,” I say, stepping into his space. “You dragged me into your world, and now I’m getting death threats? You owe me answers.”

He grabs my wrist—not hard, but firm enough to make my breath hitch. “Talia, stop. You don’t know what you’re stirring up.”

I yank free, my skin tingling where he touched me. “Then tell me! Who’s Elise? Why’s Victor involved? And don’t lie—I’m done with your secrets.”

He runs a hand through his dark hair, and for the first time, he looks… lost. “Elise was my sister,” he says, his voice low, rough. “She died five years ago. I don’t know who sent this, but I’ll find out.”

I stare at him, searching for a lie, but all I see is pain. It’s disarming, and I hate how it makes me want to believe him. “Was it really a hit-and-run?” I ask, softer now.

He turns away, staring out at the city. “No. But that’s all you get tonight.”

“That’s not enough!” I say, my voice rising. “Someone’s threatening me, Dorian. If you know something—”

“I’m handling it,” he cuts in, spinning back to face me. His eyes are fierce, but there’s a crack in his armor, a flicker of fear. “You’re safe here. I promise.”

“Safe?” I laugh, holding up the note. “This doesn’t scream safe.”

He steps closer, so close I can feel his heat. “No one touches you, Talia. Not while you’re mine.”

My heart skips, and I hate it. “I’m not yours,” I whisper, but it sounds weak, even to me.

He doesn’t answer, just takes the note and tucks it into his pocket. “Go to bed,” he says, his voice softer now. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

I want to argue, but my legs are jelly, and his gaze is too heavy. I nod, retreating to my room, but sleep’s a lost cause. Elise. Victor. The clause. It’s all a tangle, and I’m caught in the middle.

---

The next morning, I’m in the penthouse’s kitchen, nursing coffee that tastes like regret. Dorian’s gone—some early meeting, his assistant said—but he left a note on the counter: Stay here today. Security’s outside. It’s not a request, and it pisses me off.

I call Mia, my lifeline in this mess. “You okay?” she answers, her voice tense. “You dropped off last night.”

“Someone left a note outside my door,” I say, keeping my voice low. “Told me to get out or end up like Elise.”

Mia curses. “Talia, you need to bail. This is bad.”

“I can’t,” I say, gripping my mug. “The bookstore’s on the line. And… I need to know what’s going on.”

She sighs. “Okay, but I’m digging deeper. I found a name in those files—LexCorp, a rival firm. They’re tied to Elise’s death, and Dorian’s AI project is aimed at them. I think he’s after revenge.”

“Revenge?” My stomach twists. “Mia, what if he’s using me? That clause in the contract—it says he could take the bookstore if I screw up.”

“Then don’t screw up,” she says, half-joking. “But seriously, watch him. I’m sending you a file—encrypted emails between Dorian and some guy named Victor. Read them, but don’t do anything stupid.”

“Me? Stupid?” I force a laugh, but my hands are clammy. “Thanks, Mia.”

“Anytime, babe. Just… stay alive, okay?”

I hang up, my mind racing. Revenge. Victor. The bookstore. I need to talk to Dorian, but he’s untouchable today, locked in his corporate fortress. So I do the next best thing—I snoop.

His office is off-limits, but the door’s cracked, and the security guard’s on a break. I slip inside, my heart pounding like I’m breaking into Fort Knox. The room’s all glass and steel, like Dorian himself, and his desk is a fortress of files and screens. I spot a locked drawer and, on a whim, try the code from his elevator—his sister’s birth year, Mia told me. 1996. The lock clicks.

Inside, there’s a photo that stops my heart. A woman, maybe late twenties, with gray eyes like Dorian’s and auburn hair. She’s smiling, a locket around her neck, and she looks… like me. Not identical, but close enough to make my skin crawl. Elise.

“Talia?” Dorian’s voice slices through the silence, and I drop the photo, spinning to face him. He’s in the doorway, his face a mask of fury and something else—fear.

“What is this?” I demand, holding up the photo. “Why do I look like her?”

He steps closer, his eyes dark. “You shouldn’t be in here.”

“Answer me!” I say, my voice shaking. “Is this why you picked me? Because I look like your dead sister?”

He flinches, like I’ve slapped him. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what’s it like?” I’m yelling now, my fear boiling over. “You’ve got a clause to steal my bookstore, a creepy note threatening me, and now this? What are you hiding?”

He grabs my shoulders, his touch firm but not cruel. “Talia, listen. Elise’s death wasn’t random. She was working on something—something big—and it got her killed. I chose you because you’re smart, not because of how you look.”

I search his eyes, desperate for truth. “Then why the photo? Why keep it locked away?”

He lets go, turning away. “Because it reminds me I failed her. And I won’t fail you.”

My throat tightens, but before I can respond, his phone buzzes. He glances at it, and his face pales. “We need to move,” he says, grabbing my arm. “Now.”

“What’s happening?” I ask, stumbling as he pulls me toward the door.

“Victor,” he says, his voice grim. “He’s here.”

We race to the elevator, my mind a blur. The doors slide open, and there’s Victor Sloane, leaning against the wall, his scar glinting under the lights. His smile is pure venom.

“Leaving so soon?” he says, stepping forward. “We were just getting started.”

I freeze, Dorian’s hand tightening on mine. Victor pulls something from his pocket—a USB drive, small and black, like a key to hell. “You want answers, Talia?” he says, his eyes locked on me. “This has them. But it’ll cost you.”

Dorian lunges, but Victor’s faster, tossing the USB into the air. I catch it on instinct, my fingers closing around it as the elevator doors start to shut. Victor’s last words echo as the doors seal: “Choose wisely, Mrs. Kaine.”