The first time I heard Sebastian Steele's voice, it came through the thin, impersonal plastic of my desk phone, yet it carried enough weight to still my hand mid-note.
Alexis Williams? Yes?" My pen hovered over my planner. "Bring this envelope to me. Now. No explanation. No greeting. The line clicked dead.
I stared at the handset a moment longer, half expecting him to call back, tell me where his office was, or at least say please. But this was the man whose name employees spoke like a password always hushed, always followed by a glance over the shoulder.
The envelope in question was already sitting on my desk. Heavy cream paper, no return address, my name written in sharp black ink. No one had seen who'd left it.
The walk to the top floor felt longer than it should have. Every step echoed in my ears, and I could feel the weight of eyes following me curious, cautious, maybe even pitying. The elevator doors slid open to reveal a lobby unlike the rest of Caldwell International: quieter, warmer light, air tinged faintly with cedar and something metallic. His office door stood half-open. I knocked once. "Come in."
Sebastian Steele didn't look up right away. He was leaning over a file on his desk, pen poised as though the world would stop spinning if he didn't sign at that exact moment. His suit was charcoal, the fabric so precisely cut it seemed to move with him, not against him. When he did lift his gaze, it was like walking into sudden sunlight — bright, sharp, and impossible to ignore. I stepped forward, placing the envelope on his desk. "This was on my desk this morning."
He studied me as though assessing more than the delivery taking in my stance, the way I kept my shoulders straight, the fact that I didn't fidget under his stare. You didn't open it? No. One corner of his mouth tilted, not quite a smile. "Interesting."
He opened it with a single motion, pulling out a single sheet of thick paper. I couldn't see the writing, but I saw the way his eyes moved, a brief flash of calculation before the paper slid into his desk drawer. "Who else saw this?" he asked. No one.
"Good." He leaned back in his chair. "You'll take another envelope for me tomorrow. Different address. Different city. Do not open it. Do not lose it. And Alexis…" His gaze sharpened. "Do not ask questions.A test, then. "I don't usually run errands," I said, keeping my tone neutral. You'll run this one.
The dismissal was in the way he lowered his eyes to his file again, not in words. I left his office without another word, pulse quickening as the door shut behind me.
Back at my desk, I stared at the empty space where the first envelope had been. The office hum felt different now, as if everyone else could sense that I'd been pulled, however briefly, into Sebastian Steele's orbit.
And I had the strange, certain feeling that once you stepped into his shadow, it was nearly impossible to step back out.