Lillian had never eaten at a restaurant where the waiters wore tuxedos.
She sat across from Adrian at a corner table in Le Bernardin, trying not to gawk at the crystal chandeliers and gold-rimmed plates. The menu didn't even have prices on it, which probably meant she couldn't afford to breathe the air in here.
"You didn't have to take me somewhere this fancy," she said, adjusting the blazer she'd borrowed from her roommate. "We could have talked at the office."
"The office has too many ears." Adrian cut into his fish with surgical precision. "And this isn't just about talking."
"Then what's it about?"
"A business proposition."
Lillian set down her fork. She'd barely touched the food anyway—too nervous to eat. "What kind of business proposition?"
"I want to offer you a permanent position. Senior analyst level, significant raise, full benefits." Adrian met her eyes across the table. "Interested?"
"I've been here three days."
"And you've impressed me three times."
"Adrian." She leaned forward. "Cut the crap. This is about last night, isn't it?"
His expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes. "I don't know what you mean."
"The hell you don't." She kept her voice low, aware of the other diners around them. "You moved like... like something out of a movie. Your eyes changed color. And now you're offering me a job that probably pays more than my parents made in a year?"
"Your parents are dead."
The words hit like a slap. Lillian sat back in her chair, stung.
"That was uncalled for."
"But accurate." Adrian's voice softened slightly. "I'm sorry. That was... harsh."
"Yeah, it was."
They sat in silence for a moment. Around them, the restaurant hummed with quiet conversation and the clink of expensive silverware.
"The job offer is real," Adrian said finally. "Regardless of anything else."
"Anything else like the fact that you're not human?"
"I'm human." But he said it like he was trying to convince himself as much as her.
"Right. Human with superhuman speed and color-changing eyes."
"Lillian." Adrian set down his knife and fork. "There are things about this world that you don't understand. Things that are better left alone."
"Like what?"
"Like the kind of things that get people killed for asking too many questions."
The threat was subtle but unmistakable. Lillian felt a chill run down her spine.
"Are you threatening me?"
"I'm protecting you."
"From what?"
"From knowledge you're not ready for."
Lillian laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You know what? This is insane. I'm sitting in a restaurant that costs more than my rent, talking to my boss who may or may not be some kind of supernatural creature, and he's offering me a job while threatening me at the same time."
"I'm not threatening you."
"Then what would you call it?"
Adrian was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was different. Softer. Almost vulnerable.
"I'm trying to keep you safe."
"Safe from what?"
"From people like me."
The admission hung between them like a loaded gun.
"People like you," Lillian repeated. "What exactly are people like you?"
"Dangerous."
"You keep saying that. But you saved my life last night."
"That doesn't make me safe."
A waiter appeared at their table with impeccable timing, breaking the tension. "Can I interest you in dessert?"
"Just the check," Adrian said without looking away from Lillian.
"Actually," Lillian said, "I'd like the chocolate soufflé. If you're buying, I might as well enjoy it."
Adrian's mouth twitched in what might have been amusement. "Two chocolate soufflés."
"Very good, sir."
When the waiter left, Lillian leaned back in her chair. "So. This job offer. What's the catch?"
"No catch."
"There's always a catch."
Adrian reached into his jacket and pulled out a leather portfolio. "Standard employment contract. You can have your lawyer review it if you want."
"I can't afford a lawyer."
"The company will provide one."
He slid the portfolio across the table. Lillian opened it and found several pages of legal text. It looked official enough, with Valderon Investment Group letterhead and all the usual corporate jargon.
"Senior Financial Analyst," she read aloud. "Starting salary..." Her eyes widened. "This is three times what entry-level analysts make."
"You're not entry-level."
"I've been working for three days."
"And you've already proven you're worth the investment."
Lillian flipped through the pages. Standard non-disclosure agreements, benefits package, vacation time. Everything looked normal.
Almost too normal.
"What aren't you telling me?" she asked.
"Nothing relevant to the position."
"But relevant to other things?"
"Lillian." Adrian leaned forward. "I need someone I can trust. Someone with your... particular skills."
"What skills?"
"Your analytical abilities. Your instincts. Your willingness to see patterns that others miss."
"And that's worth this much money?"
"To me? Yes."
The desserts arrived, interrupting their conversation. Rich chocolate cake with molten centers that oozed decadence onto pristine white plates.
Lillian took a bite and nearly moaned. It was the best thing she'd ever tasted.
"Good?" Adrian asked.
"Amazing." She took another bite. "Okay, let's say I sign this. What happens then?"
"You work for me. Directly. Special projects, sensitive accounts, the kind of analysis that requires... discretion."
"Discretion about what?"
"About the clients. About the work. About me."
There it was. The catch.
"You want me to keep secrets."
"I want you to be professional."
"Those aren't the same thing."
Adrian was quiet for a moment, watching her eat. When he spoke, his voice was careful.
"Some of our clients prefer privacy. Anonymity. They pay well for that privilege."
"What kind of clients?"
"The kind that value discretion above all else."
Lillian set down her spoon. "You're being deliberately vague."
"I'm being appropriately cautious."
"About what?"
"About revealing information that could put you in danger."
"From your mysterious clients?"
"From a world you don't understand."
There was that phrase again. A world she didn't understand. Like there was some secret society operating parallel to the normal world, with its own rules and dangers.
Which, given what she'd seen Adrian do last night, might not be as crazy as it sounded.
"If I sign this," she said slowly, "will you answer my questions? About last night? About what you are?"
"Some of them."
"Which ones?"
"The ones that won't get you killed."
Lillian stared at the contract. The salary alone would change her life completely. She could pay off her student loans, get a decent apartment, maybe even visit her parents' graves for the first time since the funeral.
But she'd be signing up for something she didn't understand. Working for someone who admitted to being dangerous. Keeping secrets that might be more than just corporate espionage.
"I need guarantees," she said.
"What kind of guarantees?"
"That you won't hurt me. That this job won't put me in danger. That you'll be honest with me about anything that affects my safety."
Adrian considered this. "I can guarantee the first two. The third... might be complicated."
"Why?"
"Because sometimes the truth is more dangerous than ignorance."
"Let me be the judge of that."
"No." His voice was firm. "That's not how this works."
"Then how does it work?"
"You trust me. I protect you. Everyone stays safe."
"Trust you?" Lillian laughed. "I don't even know what you are."
"You know enough."
"Do I?"
Adrian reached across the table and touched her hand. The contact sent a jolt of electricity up her arm, just like in the elevator.
"Sign the contract, Lillian."
His voice was different now. Deeper. More compelling. Like it was reaching into her brain and rearranging her thoughts.
"I..." She blinked, feeling dizzy. "I should read it more carefully."
"You've read enough. Sign it."
Her hand moved toward the pen he'd placed beside the contract. She didn't remember deciding to pick it up, but suddenly it was in her fingers.
"This isn't right," she mumbled.
"It's perfect." Adrian's thumb stroked across her knuckles. "Sign it, Lillian. Trust me."
Some part of her mind screamed that this was wrong. That she was being manipulated. But Adrian's touch was warm, and his voice was so reasonable, and the money really would solve all her problems...
She signed her name at the bottom of the last page.
The moment the ink touched paper, the world exploded.
Pain shot up her arm like liquid fire. The mark on her wrist—the one that had appeared and disappeared over the past few days—suddenly blazed to life. But this time it was different. More complex. Like a elaborate tattoo being burned into her skin by invisible hands.
Lillian screamed.
Every glass in the restaurant shattered simultaneously. The lights flickered and died. Other diners shouted in confusion and alarm.
Through it all, Adrian caught her as she collapsed forward, her vision going black around the edges.
The last thing she saw before unconsciousness took her was Adrian's face, his eyes now blazing gold in the emergency lighting.
And the expression on his face wasn't surprise.
It was satisfaction.
"What did you do to me?" she whispered.
But Adrian's answer was lost as darkness claimed her completely.
When she woke up, she was going to have much bigger problems than mysterious job offers.
She was going to have to figure out why her new boss had just magically bound her to him with a contract that definitely wasn't about employment.
And why, despite everything, some part of her had wanted him to do it.
End of Chapter 5