*Chapter 4: Alone*
815 Words
The first week broke her routine.
Elena stopped going to campus coffee after lectures. She stopped saving Josh a seat. She started leaving her phone in her bag, face down, for hours at a time.
Damian didn’t ask her to stay late. He just stayed late himself. And because Rule One was clear, she stayed too.
“Take this,” he said Thursday at 7:43 PM, handing her a file. The office was dark except for his desk lamp. The rest of the floor was empty.
She took it. Their fingers didn’t touch. She was starting to notice when they almost did. Part of her wished they touched.
“You live near campus,” he said. “That’s a forty-minute ride this time of night.”
“The bus runs,” she said.
“The bus is not safe at 8 PM.”
She didn’t answer. She just opened the file. Numbers. Margins. Notes in his handwriting in the margins. Sharp, slanted, impatient.
Josh had texted her three times that day. `Campus was dead without you.` `Dinner Friday?` `You okay, El?`
She hadn’t replied to any of them.
“Look at me when I'm talking to you,” Damian said.
She did.
“You’re tired,” he said. “Go home.”
It was the first time he’d told her to leave. She stood too fast, folder in her arms.
“Monday. 8 AM.”
“Monday,” she echoed.
The elevator was empty. The lobby was empty. Outside, the city was wet from rain. Her bus stop was two blocks away, and for the first time she didn’t walk it.
A black car was waiting. No driver got out. The back door opened.
“Mr. Vance said to take you,” the driver said.
She should’ve said no. She should’ve called Josh. She should’ve taken the bus.
She got in.
---
*Friday. Campus.*
She wasn’t there.
Josh waited outside the Economics building with two coffees. One for her. He waited twenty minutes. Then he texted.
`Did something happen?`
No answer.
He found her roommate at the library. “Have you seen El?”
“She’s been at that internship every day,” the roommate said. “She said it’s… intense.”
“Intense how?”
The roommate shrugged. “She won’t talk about it.”
Josh stared at his phone. No new messages. Just the three he’d sent, all unread.
He didn’t know about the car. He didn’t know about the 40th floor after dark. He didn’t know about Rule One.
---
*Friday. 6:12 PM. Vance Holdings.*
Elena was back.
Damian didn’t ask why she’d come in on a Friday. He just handed her another file.
“Client dinner,” he said. “You’re coming.”
Her head came up. “I don’t have anything to wear.”
“There’s a car downstairs. It will take you somewhere that does.”
“This is an internship, not—”
“Not what?” He looked at her over the file. “Not part of the job?”
She remembered Sunday. The pen. The signature.
“Go,” he said.
The car took her to a boutique she’d only ever walked past. A woman pulled three dresses without asking her size. All black. All expensive.
She picked the simplest one.
By 8 PM she was back on the 40th floor, hair up, heels too high. Damian looked at her once. Then looked away, like it cost him something.
“Good,” he said. “The car is waiting.”
The restaurant was on the top floor of another tower. Private room. Four men in suits. No other women.
Damian didn’t introduce her as an intern. He introduced her as “Miss Carter, with me.”
She sat to his right. She didn’t speak unless he asked her a question. She drank water, not wine.
One of the men looked at her for too long. Damian noticed.
“Eyes on me, James,” he said, voice flat.
He didn't want any other man looking at her. He owned her.
The man looked down.
Dinner ended at 10:30. The car took them back to the tower.
“Thank you for tonight,” Damian said at her door. He didn’t get out.
She nodded, fingers on the handle. “Mr. Vance—”
“Damian,” he said.
Her breath caught. “Damian. Why me?”
He was quiet for a second. Too long. “Because you signed.”
The door closed.
She stood on the sidewalk in a dress that cost more than her rent, watching the car pull away. Her phone was in her clutch. Twenty-two missed messages. All from Josh.
She didn’t open them.
She was alone. And for the first time, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be found.
She was starting to like him and imagine things. Part of her liked it.
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- Writer
