Raine's second day began with Brenda dropping a new, thicker file on her desk. Brenda dropped a thick file on Raine's desk with a decisive thud.
"Mercury Project vendor analysis," Brenda said without preamble. "Cross-check every invoice against market rates. Find the discrepancies."
"How many vendors are we talking about?" Raine asked, flipping through the dense pages.
"Forty-three." Brenda's smile was tight. "And before you ask—yes, this is a test. Every intern gets one. Most fail." She turned to leave, then paused. "Oh, and you'll be shadowing the strategy meeting at ten. Don't speak. Just observe. Think you can manage that?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"We'll see."
Raine nodded, the weight of the file feeling like a physical burden. Her sleep had been thin, fractured by dreams of a wolf mask and a voice reciting policy clauses. She craved the mindless focus of data, a place to hide from her own thoughts.
She found an empty conference room to spread out the documents. The silence was a relief. She was pulling a market report when the door swung open.
A man stood there, holding two cardboard cups of coffee. He was around her age, but he wore his expensive clothes with a relaxed ease that screamed old money. His hair was a sun-streaked brown, his smile quick and disarming.
"Exiled from the office space?" he asked, his voice warm and inviting. He didn't wait for an answer. "I'm Beckett. Beckett Stone. Looks like we're on the same doomed project." He placed a coffee cup in front of her. "Black, right? You strike me as a no-nonsense, black coffee person."
Raine stared at the cup, then at him. His friendliness felt like a web. "How did you know I was here?"
"Saw you hiding." His grin widened. He pulled out a chair and sat without being invited, leaning back as if they were old friends. "We interns have to stick together. The natives are… intense."
He was charming. Upsettingly so. Raine felt her guard slam up. "I'm working," she said, her voice tighter than she intended.
"So am I." He gestured to the files. "Vendor analysis? Brutal. I'm on the competitor intelligence side. Equally brutal." He took a sip of his coffee, watching her over the rim. "You're Raine Sterling. Top of our applicant class. The scholarship wonder from Brooklyn."
A flush crept up her neck. His research felt nosy. "You've done your homework."
"It's what I do." He shrugged, but his eyes were sharp, missing nothing. "I like to know who I'm working with. You're interestingly unpredictable."
"I am?"
"In the Montgomery equation." He leaned forward, lowering his voice in conspiracy. "Most people here are predictable. You're not. You have a tell."
Her heart stuttered. "A tell?"
"When you're stressed, you press your left thumb into the center of your palm. You did it just now. You did it yesterday in the boardroom when the CEO was giving his scary little speech." His gaze was direct, uncomfortably discerning. "What's a star student like you so stressed about on day two?"
Ice trickled down her spine. He was observing her, cataloging her. It wasn't friendly interest; it was investigation. She forced her hand flat on the table. "It's a high-pressure environment. That's the point."
"Is it?" Beckett's smile softened, but his eyes remained keen. "Or is there something else? You have the look of someone carrying a secret."
The words hit too close to the nerve. She stood abruptly, gathering her papers. "I need to get to the strategy meeting."
"I'm heading there too." He stood with her, effortlessly matching her retreat. "I'll walk with you. Protect you from the hallway predators."
There was no shaking him. They walked in silence through the sleek corridors. Raine was deeply aware of him beside her, his easy stride, his casual observation of everything. He was a complication she didn't need.
The strategy room was dominated by a massive screen displaying complex charts. Senior analysts and managers filled the seats. Raine and Beckett took two empty chairs at the very back, near the door.
Declan Montgomery entered, and the room's temperature seemed to drop five degrees. He moved to the head of the table, his presence silencing all side conversations. Today, he looked more like a weapon than a man—all focused intensity.
"Begin," he said, without an introduction.
A senior analyst stood, pulling up a chart. "Q3 projections for the Singapore market show a twelve percent increase in—"
"Based on what data?" Declan interrupted, his voice sharp.
The analyst faltered. "The preliminary reports from—"
"Preliminary?" Declan leaned forward. "We're three weeks from finalizing this acquisition and you're showing me preliminary data?"
"Sir, the team in Singapore assured us—"
"I don't care about assurances. I care about verified numbers." His eyes swept the room. "Anyone else want to waste my time with guesswork?"
Silence.
Raine felt Beckett shift beside her. "Brutal," he whispered.
She didn't respond, too focused on the way Declan's jaw tightened, the controlled fury in his voice.
Then, his eyes, scanning the room, landed on the back.
On her.
It was the same assessing look from yesterday, but it lingered. His gaze held hers for a beat too long. A shock, pure and electric, shot through her. She felt her thumb press into her palm and forcibly stopped it. She looked down at her notebook, her cheeks burning.
When she dared glance up, his attention was back on the presenter, but a faint line had appeared between his brows.
Beckett's voice was a whisper, so close his breath stirred her hair. "Interesting."
She jerked her head toward him. "What is?"
"The way he looked at you." Declan's tone was light, but his eyes were well-grounded. "Like he's trying to solve a puzzle. And the way you reacted. Like you'd been touched by a live wire."
"You're imagining things," she whispered fiercely, her heart racing in a disarranged rhythm.
"Am I?" Beckett murmured. "You're a terrible liar, Raine Sterling. It's your only flaw."
The meeting dragged on. Declan was ruthless, dissecting arguments, demanding sharper data, his intelligence a cold, sharp blade. Each time he spoke, Raine felt the sound vibrate in her core. It was torture. A cruel comparison of the man who commanded empires and the memory of the one who had whispered in the dark.
When the meeting ended, she was the first out the door, desperate for air.
Beckett caught up with her at the water cooler. "Running away?"
"I have work," she snapped, filling her cup with shaking hands.
"You always run away after meetings?"
"I don't run away."
"No?" He leaned against the wall, watching her. "Could've fooled me. You bolted out of there like the building was on fire."
"The meeting was over. Why would I stay?"
"Most people linger. Network. Suck up." His smile was knowing. "But not you. You couldn't get out fast enough. Why?"
"Maybe I just don't like crowded rooms."
"Or maybe you don't like being in the same room as Declan Montgomery."
She crushed the paper cup in her hand, water spilling. "You're reading too much into things."
"Am I?" He straightened. "Look, I'm on your side. Really. This place can eat you alive if you're alone. Let's have lunch. A truce. No more psychoanalysis, I promise."
She was about to refuse. But the thought of sitting alone in the cafeteria, jumping at every deep voice, was worse. Declan, for all his sharp eyes, was a known quantity. A distracting one. "Fine. Lunch."
They went to a small, crowded sandwich place around the corner. Sitting across from him, away from the Montgomery tower, Raine felt some of the tension flow from her shoulders.
"So, why Montgomery Industries?" Beckett asked, unwrapping his sandwich. "For someone who looks at their CEO like he's a haunted house, you certainly fought hard to get in."
She picked at her food. "The same reason as anyone. Opportunity. Prestige."
"Bullshit." He said it cheerfully. "Try again."
She looked at him, irritated. "What do you want me to say?"
"The truth. Even a piece of it." His playful behavior faded for a moment, revealing something more serious underneath. "I'll go first. I'm here because my family expects it. The Stone name on the Montgomery intern roster looks good. But I'm also here because this company… it's a black box. I like understanding how things work, especially powerful, secretive things."
It was a confession of sorts. Disarming. Raine felt a piece of her defensiveness crack. "I'm here because I need to be," she said quietly. "It's not about expectation. It's about survival. About building something that can't be taken away."
He studied her, and for the first time, the assessing look in his eyes held a trace of genuine respect, not just curiosity. "That, I believe." He took a bite. "So, we're both here for complicated reasons. Makes us allies by default."
"Or rivals," she pointed out. "There's only one full-time offer per department, Brenda said."
"True." He grinned. "May the best complicated person win."
For the rest of the lunch, he kept the conversation light—funny stories about other interns, gossip about which VP was having an affair with his assistant. He made her laugh, a real, surprised laugh that felt different in her throat. It was a relief. For thirty minutes, she wasn't the girl with a destructive secret. She was just an intern, having lunch with a charming, maybe-too-observant colleague.
When they returned, the atmosphere changed. An email blast had gone out.
When they returned to the office, people were clustered around computer screens, murmuring.
"What's going on?" Beckett asked a passing analyst.
"Check your email," the man said. "Big announcement."
Raine pulled up her inbox. The subject line made her stomach drop: MANDATORY OFF-SITE SESSION - MERCURY PROJECT TEAM.
"Skyfall Lodge," Beckett read over her shoulder, whistling low. "In the Adirondacks. This weekend."
"This weekend?" Raine's voice came out strained.
"'Attendance is mandatory for all Mercury Project team members, including interns,'" Beckett continued reading. "'Transportation will be provided. Pack for mountain weather and professional work sessions.'"
"How do we even know we're on the team?" Raine asked.
Beckett scrolled down. "There's an attachment. Team roster." He clicked. His grin widened. "Well, well. Look at that. Sterling, Raine. Stone, Beckett. We made the cut."
"Lucky us," Raine muttered.
"Exclusive. Isolated. This is either a huge opportunity or the setting for a corporate horror movie." He looked at her pale face. "Or both. You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Fear, cold and heavy, settled in Raine's stomach. The temporary relief of lunch vanished.
She forced a smile. "Just surprised."
"Uh-huh." He didn't believe her. "Well, partner. Looks like we're going to the mountains. Pack warm. And maybe a personal alarm." How are you so certain I will be on the team?," she asked with an irritated voice.
The rest of the afternoon was a waste. She couldn't concentrate. The numbers on the screen blurred into visions of pine trees and snow and a man with winter-grey eyes in a setting with no escape.
At 5 PM, she power-walked to the elevator bank, needing to flee. The doors were closing when a hand shot out, stopping them.
Beckett slipped in beside her,. "In a hurry?"
"Long day," she muttered, pressing the button for the lobby repeatedly, as if it would speed the descent.
The elevator began its smooth drop. Silence descended, thick and uncomfortable.
Then Beckett spoke, his voice casual. "You know, at the Ascension Gala last weekend… I thought I saw someone who looked like you. Leaving the terrace. Very late. Or very early."
The bottom dropped out of Raine's world. The elevator seemed to plunge faster. Her breath seized in her chest. She stared straight ahead at the descending floor numbers, seeing nothing.
"Must have been someone else," she managed, her voice a strained whisper.
"Must have been," Beckett agreed nicely. The elevator dinged, opening to the lavish, crowded lobby. "But it's a funny coincidence, isn't it? That gala… and our CEO being such a poser for professional boundaries. Almost like he's personally invested in the rule."
He stepped out, then turned, blocking the door with his arm. His charming smile was still in place, but his eyes held a new, unsettling depth. ", Raine. "See you tomorrow and rest well tonight", with a smirk on his face.
He released the door and melted into the stream of people heading home.
Raine stood still in the elevator as the doors tried to close on her. A man behind her cleared his throat. She stumbled out, her legs unsteady. She walked through the lobby in a daze, Beckett's words echoing. 'I thought I saw someone who looked like you.' 'Personally invested in the rule.'
She pushed through the heavy glass doors onto the sidewalk, nearly colliding with a delivery guy.
"Watch it!" he snapped.
"Sorry," she mumbled, stepping aside.
Her phone buzzed. Her mother: *Sweetheart, you've been so quiet! Everything okay?*
Raine stared at the text, her thumb hovering over the keyboard. What could she possibly say?
*Everything's fine, Mom. Just busy.*
Three dots appeared. *Too busy for your mother? Call me this weekend!*
*I'll be out of town. Work thing.*
*Already? They're working you hard! I'm proud of you, honey.*
Raine closed her eyes. *Thanks, Mom. Love you.*
She leaned against the cold stone of the Montgomery building, trying to steady her breathing. Beckett was a problem. A smart, observant problem who'd just revealed he knew too much.
"You okay?"
She jerked her head up. A security guard was watching her with concern.
"Fine," she said quickly. "Just... long day."
"First week?"
"Second day."
He chuckled. "It gets easier. Or you get tougher. Same difference." He nodded toward the street. "Be safe getting home."
"Thanks."
He didn't have proof. She thought to herself. But he had a theory, and he was clearly the kind of person who enjoyed testing theories. He was a puzzle-solver, and he'd decided she was a puzzle. A rival who knew her secret was more dangerous than a dozen oblivious CEOs.
The real problem, the terrifying core of it all, remained the same Declan Montgomery. And the memory that tied her to him, a ghost that now felt less like a treasure and more like a lit fuse.
She had just started to steady herself when a black Mercedes car—the same one from yesterday—pulled smoothly to the curb. The rear window slid down, revealing not Lysander, but Declan.
He was looking at his phone, his profile sharp and unapproachable in the dim interior light. He hadn't seen her.
Then, as his driver pulled into traffic, Declan lifted his gaze. His eyes, through the glass, met hers on the crowded sidewalk.
There was no dismissal in his look this time. No cold assessment. It was something raw, stark, and utterly confused. A fleeting, unguarded moment of a man seeing a ghost he couldn't name.
The car turned the corner and was gone.
Raine's heart, which had been hammering from Beckett's threat, now went completely still. That look… it wasn't knowledge. It was recognition of a feeling, a haunting. He felt the ghost, too.
The fuse wasn't just lit. Someone had just blown on the spark.