His Terms

*Chapter 2: Sunday, 6PM*

Elena’s phone lit up Friday afternoon while she was hiding in the back of the university library.

Internship confirmed. Monday, 8AM. Formal attire. Report to the 40th floor, CEO office.

That was it. No welcome, no contact name. Just instructions.

Six hundred dollars. That was the stipend. Enough for rent, food, and her brother’s tuition for two months. She stared at the screen until the words blurred.

“Elena?”

She looked up. Josh.

Third-year Economics. Her boyfriend for eight months. He ran track, brought her coffee before exams, and still acted like holding her hand in public was a big deal.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said, dropping into the seat across from her.

She pocketed her phone. “I got the internship. It starts Monday.”

“Vance Holdings?” His eyebrows shot up. “That’s huge, El. Why didn’t you tell me you applied?”

“I didn’t think I’d get it,” she said. “Too many people apply. I just needed the money.”

“Then we’re celebrating.” He grinned, reaching for her hand. “Dinner at mine tonight?”

She should have said yes. He was safe. He was twenty-two and talked about finals and graduation, not boardrooms and acquisitions.

But there was something else in the email she hadn’t mentioned. A final line. A private meeting. Sunday at six. Alone. With the CEO.

“It’s just… overwhelming,” she lied. “Can we do Monday, after my first day?”

His grin faded a little. “You’ve been off all week.”

She had. Ever since the interview. Ever since Damian Vance had looked at her across that table like she was something he’d already decided to own.

Fourteen years older. Gray eyes that didn’t blink. A suit that probably cost more than her entire semester.

“You sure you’re okay?” Josh asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “Just tired.”

She wasn’t tired. She was scared.

---

Sunday evening, the Vance Holdings tower was empty. The 40th floor was all glass and quiet. Her heels sounded wrong in the silence.

His office door was open.

Damian didn’t look up when she walked in. He was signing something at his desk. White shirt, sleeves rolled once. No jacket. No smile.

“You’re early,” he said without looking up.

“Traffic,” she said.

“Sit.”

One chair. Across from him. No offer of water. No polite talk.

He finished, set the pen down, and finally met her eyes.

“Miss Carter. Twenty-one. State University. GPA 3.8. You have a younger brother. Fourteen. Your mother is gone. Your father isn’t in the picture.”

Her blood went cold. “How did you—”

“You work for me,” he said. “That makes your life my business.”

Josh didn’t even know about her brother.

Damian slid a sheet of paper across the desk.

“You’ll be needed outside regular hours,” he said. “Meetings. Events. Travel, when I require it. Alone. With me. Miss it, and the stipend ends.”

Her throat tightened. “I have classes. And… a boyfriend.”

Something shifted in his expression. Not annoyance. Curiosity.

“Does he pay your rent?”

No.

“Does he pay your brother’s tuition?”

No.

“Then he doesn’t matter here.”

He pushed the paper closer. “Sign. Or leave. The elevator is still running.”

Her phone vibrated in her bag. Josh: _You good? Miss you._

Outside, the city lights were coming on. She looked at the pen. At him. At the door.

Six hundred dollars. One signature. And a rule she already knew she was going to break.

She picked up the pen.