Chapter2: The offer
1569 Words
Rae had been watching Roth-more tech for months, waiting for the right moment to make her move. Now, sitting in her car, she took a deep breath and composed herself. She might just be a nervous intern on paper, but she planned to leave an unforgettable impression.
As she stepped through the glass doors of Roth-more Tech, her heels clicked crisply on the marble floor. Beneath her sleek black dress, a compact firearm was holstered tightly against her thigh. Her eyes flicked over the lobby, every detail noted, every person assessed.
She approached the front desk with a smile that was all teeth and calculation.
“Hey there,” she said, her voice warm and sweet, like syrup hiding a knife. “Today’s my first day on the job. Sorry for not introducing myself earlier—I’m Lily, the new chief secretary. Can you imagine the first-day jitters?”
The receptionist blinked, caught off guard by her confidence and charm. He glanced at his monitor, but saw nothing under her name.
Rae leaned in slightly, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Could you point me to the executive office? I’m supposed to meet Mr. Rothmore personally.”
There was command in her tone, the kind that made refusal seem unreasonable.
After a brief hesitation, he nodded and gestured. “Top floor, suite 49C. Take the gold elevator, far left.”
“You’re a lifesaver,” she smiled, flirtatious and effortless.
As she walked away, posture flawless, the weight of curious stares followed her. No one tried to stop her.
The gold elevator slid open with a soft chime. Mirrors lined the walls. Her reflection stared back—poised, beautiful, and dangerously composed. She pressed the button for the top floor.
“This isn’t just a bluff,” she murmured, voice low. “It’s infiltration.”
A voice crackled in her earpiece. “You’re in. Control room’s on the 13th floor, right-hand side,” Niko instructed.
She smiled at the people passing by as the elevator doors closed. “I’ll never do this job again—my cheekbones are killing me.”
“First time I’ve seen you smile so much,” Niko said, amused. I thought you don’t do pleasantries?
“Exactly. First and last time,” she replied. “I only do pleasantries when they get me something.”
She stepped out onto the 13th floor, striding confidently through the beige maze of corporate vanity and abstract art.
“Talk to me, Niko,” she said. “This place reeks of overpaid mediocrity.”
“Two more doors. Control room’s on the right. You’ve got four minutes before the guards circle back.”
“Four minutes? Please. I once stole a senator’s pass code in thirty seconds—and got a date out of it.”
“What is it with you and senators?”
“I guess I’m just… charming.”
She slid a forged keycard through the scanner. It beeped green. Click.
“Amateurs,” she muttered, stepping into the nerve center of Rothmore Tech.
Wall-to-wall monitors lit up the dark room, showing every inch of the facility. One screen displayed the elevator to suite 49C—her real target.
“Let’s make some magic,” she said, settling at the console. Her fingers flew across the keys.
“You’re almost in,” Niko said. “Disable the suite feed. Reroute hallway cameras.”
“Already done. Honestly, I’ve hacked coffee machines with better defenses.”
Then—soft footsteps.
Two sets.
“Niko,” she hissed. “You forgot to mention guests.”
“Two guards. You’ve got ten seconds. GET OUT.”
“Too late—I’m improvising.”
The door creaked open. Two security guards stepped in, hands twitching near their radios.
Rae turned, wide-eyed and feigning innocence.
“Oh no! You caught me… red-handed. Just admiring the wall of TVs. What is this? NASA?”
“This is a restricted area,” the older guard snapped.
She blinked. “No kidding? Wow, explains the vibe. I thought it was one of those tech break rooms. No coffee machine, but hey, a hundred screens? Classy.”
“You’re not authorized to be here.”
She raised her hands slightly. “Relax, Robo Cop. I just got lost looking for the bathroom. Took a wrong turn and boom—Mission Control. Maybe put some labels on these doors. Add glitter, spice things up.”
The younger guard hesitated. The older one didn’t budge. “Clearance. Now.”
She smiled sweetly. “Darling, if I needed clearance, I’d already have your boss’s blood type and what he ate for lunch last Thursday. Spoiler: it was depressing.”
The guards stepped forward. Rae leaned in, voice dropping to a purr.
“So, are you really going to report me… for being too curious? Too dangerously attractive?”
The younger guard flushed.
The older one scowled “you got lucky this time.” as she brushed past them.
“I’m always lucky,” she said over her shoulder with a wink. “But if you ever redesign this place—call me. I’ve got ideas.”
Out in the hallway, she tapped her earpiece.
“Cameras down. Guards distracted. You’re welcome.”
“You’re insane,” Niko replied.
Rae grinned. “But effective.”
She strutted down the corridor like she owned it. The hard part was done. All eyes were on her, mesmerized by the woman who moved like power wrapped in velvet.
Back to the gold elevator. Another soft chime.
“You know, I’m kind of getting used to that annoying sound,” she muttered, pressing the button for the top floor.
At suite 49C, she tapped her access card. The lock clicked. She slipped inside like a shadow.
Cameras: disabled.
Guards: rerouted.
The building didn’t know it had already lost.
The executive suite screamed sterile opulence—black marble, cold steel, and a floor-to-ceiling view of the skyline. The air thrummed with authority.
“Niko, I’m in,” she whispered. “Where’s the laptop?”
“Right-side desk drawer. Quantum X9. Matte black. That’s your vault.”
She found it and booted it up.
“Four security walls. Each heavier than the last,” Niko warned.
Rae cracked her knuckles. “I didn’t fake a job interview in stilettos to lose to overpriced plastic.”
Voice ID—bypassed with a pre-recorded file.
Retinal scan—handled with a stolen contact lens.
Numeric cipher—thirty seconds, max.
Final firewall: loading.
Then, she heard him.
A voice—low, smooth, laced with danger.
“Well, well. I had a feeling you'd be prettier in person.”
Rae froze, then turned.
Damien Roth-more.
He didn’t need an introduction. The air around him bent, shifted. Tailored suit. Raven-dark hair. Obsidian eyes. Cold. Controlled. Lethal.
Her smile curled like a blade.
“If it isn’t the infamous Roth-more himself. I expected alarms, lasers—something dramatic. You disappoint.”
He chuckled. “You disabled everything too well. That makes a man... curious.”
She tilted her head. “Curiosity killed the CEO.”
He stepped closer. “And satisfaction brought him a very interesting offer.”
“Oh? Is that what this is? An offer—or a velvet-wrapped death sentence?”
He ignored her jab, crossing to the desk with glacial calm. “Here it is: you pretend to be my girlfriend. Make the media purr. Keep my family off my back. Soothe the board. In return—you walk. No arrest. No consequences. No one touches you.”
Rae raised an eyebrow. “Play dress-up with a snake? Tempting. But I’m not afraid of pain. I’m just allergic to boredom.”
“Think of it more as… playing house.” He folded his arms. “You’d rather die trying to steal files you don’t even understand?”
She scoffed. “Expose you? Please. I didn’t break in to leak scandals. Don’t flatter yourself, Damien.”
She stepped closer, voice low and dangerous.
“I’ve seen what this laptop holds. It’s enough to make a graveyard jealous.”
She leaned against the desk, smirking.
“So you want me on your arm to dazzle the press and distract Mommy Dearest?”
She tapped the laptop.
“If I wanted to destroy you, this baby would be live-streaming your sins right now.”
A pause. Her smile widened.
“Lucky for you, I prefer slow burns over fireworks.”
Damien’s face didn’t change, but something sharpened in his gaze. Then, a smirk.
“You’ve got teeth,” he murmured. “Maybe we sharpen them together.”
She blinked, caught off guard for just a second.
“I’ll sweeten the deal. Seven figures. Immunity. And partial access to the files you’re really after.”
Rae narrowed her eyes. “You want me to spy on myself… for you.”
“I want you close enough to stop what’s coming,” he said, voice like crushed velvet. “You think I’m the monster. But you haven’t seen the real enemy yet.”
A silence.
Then—her smile returned. Slow. Lethal.
“Fine. I’ll be your media darling. Smile for the cameras. But no kissing. I don’t do that.”
Damien’s eyes darkened with something unreadable.
“But,” she added, raising a finger, “if you try to trick, oh darling you wouldn’t even know what hit you.”
- Writer
