CHAPTER TWO
Munich, Germany — Monday, 7:31 a.m.
Ayanda Bennett stood before the towering glass entrance of Veyronis Technologies and stared upward.
Forty-one floors of steel, glass, and ruthless ambition.
Her new workplace.
She exhaled slowly.
"It's just a job."
The lie sounded unconvincing even to her.
She stepped through the revolving doors.
The atmosphere changed immediately.
Employees walked briskly through the marble lobby, their conversations low and purposeful. Nobody appeared to linger. Nobody appeared relaxed.
Ayanda had the peculiar sensation that everyone was trying not to make a mistake.
She approached the reception desk.
"Good morning."
The receptionist looked up.
Her expression changed when she recognized Ayanda.
"Miss Bennett."
"Ayanda, please."
The woman nodded.
"Ayanda."
There was a brief pause.
Then the receptionist glanced toward the elevator.
"Mr. Vale is expecting you."
Ayanda checked her watch.
"I'm twenty-nine minutes early."
"He knows."
That answer made her pause.
"He knows?"
The receptionist gave her a strange look.
"Mr. Vale knows everything that happens on this floor."
Ayanda smiled faintly.
"That sounds healthy."
The receptionist didn't laugh.
Ayanda immediately stopped smiling.
Right.
Apparently, nobody joked about Adrian Vale.
The private elevator opened.
She stepped inside.
The doors closed.
As the numbers climbed, Ayanda studied her reflection.
Dark curls.
Freckles.
Black trousers.
White blouse.
Tailored blazer.
Professional.
Prepared.
And absolutely determined not to let one intimidating CEO make her regret accepting the position.
The elevator stopped.
LEVEL 41.
The doors opened.
The executive floor was silent.
Not peaceful.
Silent.
There was a difference.
A woman at the reception desk stood immediately.
"Mr. Vale is waiting."
Ayanda nodded.
"Thank you."
She walked toward the black door at the end of the corridor.
She knocked once.
"Enter."
The voice was low.
Commanding.
Ayanda opened the door.
Adrian Vale was standing behind his desk.
He didn't look up.
Not immediately.
His black suit was perfectly fitted, his white shirt immaculate, his dark curls slightly tousled but somehow still deliberate.
He continued reading the document in front of him.
Ayanda waited.
Ten seconds.
Twenty.
Thirty.
Finally, Adrian spoke.
"You're early."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because punctuality seemed preferable to making my first impression as your new secretary by arriving late."
He turned a page.
"I didn't ask for an explanation."
Ayanda's lips pressed together.
"Understood."
Another silence.
Then:
"Close the door."
She did.
"Sit."
She sat.
Adrian finally looked at her.
His eyes were cold and analytical.
He studied her as though she were a document he hadn't decided whether to approve.
"Ayanda Bennett."
"Yes."
"Twenty-four."
"Yes."
"Business administration."
"Yes."
"Three languages."
"Correct."
"German included."
"Yes."
He closed the file.
"You're overqualified."
"I've heard that before."
"Then you should know why I don't consider it a compliment."
Ayanda remained silent.
Adrian leaned back.
"People who believe they are overqualified for their positions eventually become dissatisfied."
"Not necessarily."
His eyes narrowed.
"No?"
"No."
"Explain."
"Some people don't need a title to prove their worth."
The room became quiet.
Adrian's expression didn't change.
But his attention sharpened.
"Confident."
"Prepared."
"There's a difference."
"I know."
He stood.
Ayanda followed him with her eyes.
Adrian walked to the window, his hands clasped behind his back.
"Your responsibilities will include managing my schedule, correspondence, travel arrangements, confidential documentation, executive meetings, and communication with international partners."
He turned.
"You will have access to information worth millions of euros."
Ayanda nodded.
"I understand."
"You will also encounter people who will attempt to use you to reach me."
"I understand."
"Some will flatter you."
"I'm not easily flattered."
"Some will threaten you."
Ayanda paused.
"That sounds reassuring."
Adrian's face remained expressionless.
"It wasn't intended to be."
She looked at him.
He continued.
"You will not accept gifts. You will not discuss my movements. You will not disclose information concerning Veyronis. You will not photograph confidential documents. You will not bring unauthorized individuals onto this floor."
Ayanda wrote everything down.
"Anything else?"
"Yes."
Adrian's gaze became colder.
"You don't question my decisions in front of other executives."
Ayanda stopped writing.
"And privately?"
"Privately?"
"If I believe you've made a mistake."
A long silence.
Adrian walked toward the desk.
"You may speak."
"Even if you're wrong?"
His expression hardened.
"If I'm wrong, you will have evidence."
Ayanda nodded.
"Fair."
"Good."
He picked up a tablet.
"Your schedule."
He handed it to her.
She looked down.
Her eyebrows rose.
The day was packed from morning until night.
Meetings.
Calls.
Board sessions.
Investors.
Legal consultations.
Security briefings.
International conferences.
She scrolled further.
"You have twelve hours of meetings."
"I know."
"When do you eat?"
"When necessary."
"And sleep?"
Adrian looked at her.
"That isn't part of your job description."
Ayanda lowered the tablet.
"I was asking."
"Don't."
The single word ended the conversation.
Ayanda nodded.
"Understood."
Adrian returned to his desk.
"Rule number one."
She opened her notebook.
"Never alter my schedule without authorization."
She wrote it down.
"Rule number two."
"Never enter this office without permission."
She wrote.
"Rule number three."
"Never interrupt a confidential meeting."
Another note.
"Rule number four."
Adrian's gaze fixed on her.
"Never lie to me."
Her pen stopped.
"Understood."
"Rule number five."
He paused.
"Never assume silence means permission."
Ayanda looked up.
"What does that mean?"
"It means exactly what I said."
She wrote it down.
"Rule number six."
His voice became quieter.
"If someone tells you something about me, don't believe them."
Ayanda frowned.
"Why?"
"Because people are rarely satisfied with facts when rumors are more entertaining."
She studied him.
"And what should I believe?"
Adrian's expression was unreadable.
"Nothing."
Before Ayanda could respond, his phone rang.
He glanced at the screen.
Something changed.
Barely.
But she noticed.
He answered.
"Ja."
German.
His voice dropped.
"Wer hat die Datei geschickt?"
Ayanda understood.
Who sent the file?
Adrian turned away from her.
"Nein."
A pause.
"Niemand betritt mein Büro."
No one enters my office.
His jaw tightened.
"Verstanden."
He ended the call.
Ayanda remained silent.
Adrian placed the phone on the desk.
"Your first task."
He pushed a tablet toward her.
"Organize my schedule."
Ayanda picked it up.
"By priority?"
"Yes."
"Location?"
"Yes."
"Duration?"
"Yes."
"Conflicts?"
"Yes."
She looked at him.
"Anything else?"
Adrian's eyes met hers.
"Don't make mistakes."
She nodded.
"I'll do my best."
"I don't pay people to do their best."
The words landed heavily.
"I pay them to do their jobs."
Ayanda's eyebrows rose.
"Understood."
She stood.
As she turned toward the door, Adrian spoke.
"Ayanda."
She stopped.
"Yes?"
"You speak German."
"Yes."
"How much of that conversation did you understand?"
She hesitated.
"Enough."
"That's not an answer."
"It is the only answer you're getting."
Silence.
Adrian stared at her.
For a moment, neither moved.
Then he said:
"Seien Sie vorsichtig."
Ayanda recognized the phrase.
"Be careful."
"Yes."
She waited.
"Is that an instruction?"
"No."
"Then what is it?"
Adrian's expression remained cold.
"A warning."
The door opened.
Ayanda stepped outside.
Behind her, the door closed.
She stood still for a moment.
Then she whispered,
"Definitely not a normal workplace."
Inside the office, Adrian returned to his desk.
He opened the confidential file.
The same photograph from the previous day was inside.
Beside it was a name.
AYANDA BENNETT.
He stared at it.
Then at the photograph.
Then at the message beneath it.
DO NOT TRUST HER.
Adrian's jaw tightened.
His phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
One message.
You hired the wrong woman.
Another appeared seconds later.
She doesn't know what she's carrying.
Adrian's eyes narrowed.
A third message arrived.
But when she finds out, neither of you will be safe.
He locked the phone.
For several seconds, he remained perfectly still.
Then he pressed a button on his desk.
"Nathaniel."
A voice answered through the intercom.
"Yes?"
"Come to my office."
"Now?"
"Immediately."
The line went silent.
Adrian looked through the glass wall.
Ayanda was sitting at her desk.
Already working.
Already organizing his schedule.
Already becoming part of the executive floor.
His expression hardened.
He had hired her because she was competent.
At least, that was what he had told himself.
But now there was a much bigger question.
Why had her name appeared in a confidential investigation three weeks before she ever applied to Veyronis?
And more importantly—
why was someone so determined to make sure Adrian Vale never trusted her?
Across the corridor, Ayanda suddenly looked up.
Their eyes met through the glass.
Neither smiled.
Neither looked away.
Then Adrian slowly closed the blinds.
The first day had barely begun.
And already, someone had declared war.