Her eyes flick to his closed door, then back to me. “Transferred to the Singapore office this morning.”
Jesus Christ. He shipped her to another continent.
The message couldn’t be clearer if he’d written it in my blood: Don’t f**k up. Don’t disobey. Don’t disappoint.
But I don’t see. Not really. I’ve just agreed to be the right hand to a man who discards people like used tissues, who can banish someone to the other side of the planet with a snap of his fingers, who watched me for five years while I thought I was invisible.
And the sickest part? As I sink into my new chair—the leather so buttery-soft it feels obscene—there’s a dark, twisted part of me that’s thrilled by all of it.
I’ve just handed the devil my leash…
… and God help me, I can’t wait to feel the first tug.
I stare at th
