EMPIRE OF GLASS

Control and resistance

The city glittered beneath the glass walls of Black Tower, forty stories of steel and ruthlessness that bore Stephanie's name. The morning after the gala, the building hummed with activity—assistants scurrying, executives waiting, journalists clamoring at the doors.

Stephanie stepped down from her car, dark sunglasses hiding the storm in her eyes. Her empire could not know weakness. Not after last night.

But of course, he was there.Darius Harrow

He moved ahead of her, scanning the crowd with military precision, the cut of his suit concealing the holster at his hip. Security consultant, he’d called himself. The guard dog was more accurate.

“Dismissed,” she said coolly as they entered the elevator.

He didn’t even glance at her. “No.”

Her jaw tightened. “You work for me.”

“You pay me,” he corrected. His gaze slid to her, dark and unreadable. “But until whoever tried to kill you is in a grave, I work for myself.”

Her pulse jumped, and she hated it. “I don’t tolerate insubordination.”

“Good thing I’m not your subordinate.”

The elevator chimed, spilling them into the boardroom floor. The glass chamber was already full—executives in thousand-dollar suits, their smiles oily, their eyes sharp. They all rose when Seraphina entered.

Darius stayed by the wall, silent shadow, but she felt his presence like a hand at her throat.

The meeting began. Numbers, acquisitions, a hostile takeover brewing on the horizon. Stephanie leaned into her role, voice crisp, commands swift. She dismantled objections like a surgeon wielding a scalpel.

One man—a rival board member twice her age—smirked. “Perhaps last night’s incident has you… distracted, Miss Blakes. Maybe it’s time you consider stepping aside—”

“Finish that sentence,” Stephanie purred, “and I’ll finish your career.”

The room went still. The man’s smirk faltered.

Darius’s gaze flicked to her—approval? Amusement? She couldn’t tell.

When the meeting ended, she dismissed the board with a flick of her wrist. As the doors closed, Darius finally spoke.

“You like to play queen.”

She turned on him, eyes like polished obsidian. “I don’t play. I win.”

He stepped closer, invading her space, his voice a low growl meant only for her. “Then why are you trembling?”

Her breath caught. She hadn’t realized she was.

For a dangerous second, silence stretched between them, charged and hot.

Then she laughed, sharp as a blade, slipping her mask back into place. “Careful, Mr. Harrow. You mistake fascination for fear.”

But as she swept past him, her pulse betrayed her. And Darius Harrow—damn him—noticed.

He didn’t smirk. He didn’t speak. He only watched, the weight of his silence heavier than any taunt. Stephanie hated that silence more than the venom of her rivals. At least they struck openly. He dissected her with nothing but his eyes.

The glass doors opened before she could summon a retort. Andre swept in, trailed by his personal assistant and a flurry of digital tablets. Her younger brother looked immaculate as always—tailored navy suit, hair styled with careless perfection. His charm was his weapon, his smile his shield.

“Steph,” he said warmly, crossing the room to kiss her cheek. Too warmly. Too rehearsed. “You’re alive. Thank God. The press is eating themselves raw out there.”

“Of course I’m alive.” She slipped her sunglasses back into place. “Who would dare think otherwise?”

Andre’s eyes flicked to Darius, lingering a second too long. “I see you’ve met our consultant.”

Her lips curved in a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Oh, we’ve met.”

“Good.” Andre clasped his hands, expression bright. “Because you need him.”

Stephanie’s laugh cut the air like glass shattering. “Need?”

Andre didn’t flinch, but his assistant shrank into the background. “Someone tried to kill you. That makes this man”—he gestured toward Darius—“the most important person in this tower.”

“No,” she said softly, every syllable lethal. “That makes me the most important person in this tower.”

The silence that followed was sharp enough to wound. Andre’s smile faltered. He was clever enough not to push. Instead, he raised his hands in a mock surrender. “As you wish, sister. Just don’t shoot the guard dog before the wolves are found.”