Chapter 6 6

The espresso machine hissed and I didn't look up until that voice cut through the noise behind me. Unhurried. Low. The kind of voice that expected the room to go quiet for it.

I turned anyway.

Tall, dark hair pushed back, glasses that looked expensive rather than nerdy, a mouth curved like he already knew something about me. He caught my stare and held it a beat too long, one eyebrow lifting  an invitation I didn't ask for.

I busied my hands with the milk steamer.

Because that voice had dragged my brain straight back to Jeremy Silverhowl's, the one from the boardroom, sharp enough to cut glass, the kind that didn't rise in volume because it never needed to.

This was a problem. I wasn't a woman who got weak over money. The last man I'd loved had sold his car to fund a community farm project. Jeremy Silverhowl's cufflinks probably cost more than that farm's entire harvest.

Nyra dropped onto the stool beside mine, stealing a sip of my drink without asking. "Tell me again how evil the Stone Ridge boys are."

"Unforgivably rich," I said. "Unforgivably good-looking. It's honestly offensive."

That was supposed to be the whole truth. Men like that  arrogant, untouchable, playing with numbers that could crush a family  should have repulsed me completely.

They didn't.

Not Kieran, with his lazy charm.

And God help me, not Jeremy.

"Sure," Nyra said, in the tone she used when she already knew she was right.

My mind kept replaying the boardroom from that morning, the silence before he spoke, the way three grown executives had gone, still waiting on his next word. Every photo I'd found online had undersold him. In person, Jeremy Silverhowl didn't just walk into a room. He rearranged it.

I'd done my homework before taking this job. Old money, until his father's death at eighteen took the family fortune down with him. No cushion, no bailout, just Jeremy and five college friends, broke and furious, building something out of nothing in a rented house off campus. First a currency no bank would touch. Then a trading engine nobody trusted. Then one brutal, correct bet on semiconductors that made him a billionaire before thirty.

The financial world had laughed at them first.

Then it started calling him a genius.

Then it stopped saying much about him publicly at all.

"They're monsters," I admitted, "but I won't pretend the empire isn't impressive."

Nyra smirked into her cup. "Good thing four years at Nightshade prepared you for rich men who think they're gods."

She meant the campus where old surnames were etched into the library walls like commandments.

"Good thing," I echoed, quieter than I meant to.

What actually unsettled me was how much I was already looking forward to Monday.

"Wait." Nyra sat up straighter. "What is that face?"

"My new boss is unfairly attractive," I muttered.

"Oh, we're doing this." She grinned, twisting her nose ring. "You've caught feelings for a Stone Ridge man."

"Absolutely not." I set my cup down too hard; foam slopped over the side. "I don't get involved with men who own buildings."

"Involved. I like that you went straight there."

"Nyra."

"I'm only saying  if the executive floor starts rattling, I'll know exactly why."

"You're horrible."

My imagination, unfortunately, wasn't listening to either of us. It handed me an image anyway  Jeremy shrugging out of his jacket, forearms bare, watching me like I was a decision he hadn't made yet.

I nearly choked on nothing.

No. Not an option.

I needed this paycheck. Not a tabloid headline.

"You could have both," Nyra said sweetly. "A few incredible nights and a severance check that changes your life."

I actually did choke this time. She looked thrilled with herself. "You're unbearable."

"And you're not getting fired week one," she said. "You're too fast a learner for that."

Fast wasn't the plan anymore. I needed to become the person Jeremy Silverhowl couldn't run the company without. That was how Lyra kept her insulin covered. That was how Orion's tuition got paid.

Nyra reached under the register and slapped a flyer onto the counter. "Unrelated to the bar next door's doing a retro band night. Next month."

"Absolutely not." "You always say that and you always come."

She'd loved those bands since we were kids, learning every note in her bedroom the summer her parents split up, like the music was the only thing holding still.

"I can't think about next month," I said. "I can't even think past tomorrow. First real day, and I haven't finished the Killian brief. I'll be up till dawn."

"Relax," she said. "It's not tomorrow. Read the date."

"Then why is it in my hand right now?" Her smile shifted  too sweet, too fast. "Because I already put us on the performance lineup."

I still went. "You did what?" She slid the flyer closer, tapping our names already printed at the bottom like it was a done deal.

Then she tapped the line beneath it. Sponsored by Silverhowl Industries. The floor seemed to tilt slightly.

Because that meant he'd be there. Watching. After everything I'd just sworn to myself about keeping this professional 

My phone buzzed against the counter before I could finish the thought.

One line, from Lyra. No greeting.

Orion's not answering. His roommate says he never came home.

Nyra was already bouncing on her toes before I'd even set my bag down. "One night. That's all I'm asking."

"Absolutely not."