Chapter 4 Chapter 004

Vamica POV

My heart jumped, too fast. I pressed a pill against my tongue and let it dissolve into bitterness.

When I turned back, Grandma’s eyes were open—glazed with pain, but open. The relief made my eyes watery.

“Grandma,” I whispered, leaning close.

Her mouth curved, barely. “Go,” she rasped.

“What?”

“Your call.” Her fingers…weak but stubborn—squeezed mine. “Leads Corp. Go, Vami.”

“I can’t leave you.”

“You can,” she said, and her tone was serious “You must.”

Her faith in me was a weight and a wing. I kissed the back of her hand, salty with my own tears. “I’ll be quick. I swear.”

I called Lila from the lobby. Her voice was hoarse but steadier. “Mom’s stable. Dad disappeared—again. How’s Grandma?”

“Alive,” I breathed. “Because of you. And guess what? Leads Corp called. They want me. Interview today.”

For a heartbeat she was silent, and then she laughed, ragged and bright. “See? You’re not cursed, baby. Go burn their building down.”

I smiled in a way I hadn’t in a long time. Maybe my life wasn’t all glass and warning labels.

Back at my apartment, I dressed like the version of me I used to picture when I was a kid: crisp blouse, fitted skirt, the good shoes I’d been saving for a future that never seemed to come. On the train, I reread the email three times. Housing. Company car. Advance. It was too much, too sudden, like the universe had spun out of control and landed on my number for once.

And the thought slipped in, sharp and ugly—I wouldn’t have gone to that house last night, wouldn’t have let him touch me, wouldn’t have lost pieces of myself if I’d known this was coming. If I’d known life would finally give me a chance. But then I thought of Grandma, alive because of that money, and the bitterness eased. Maybe my shame had bought her breath. Maybe it wasn’t all wasted.

Don’t look for ways this can break, I told my anxious heart. Just walk.

Leads Corp’s tower stabbed at the sky: glass, steel, clean lines. Inside, the world smelled expensive. People moved like they owned their futures. My palms were damp; my pulse pattered quick, but not the dangerous kind. Hope-thrum. It felt almost illegal.

“Miss Vamica Daniels?” the receptionist asked, smiling with her mouth and not her eyes. “The CEO will see you now.”

“The CEO?” I echoed. My voice tried to climb up a register and I dragged it back down.

“Yes. He insisted on conducting your interview himself.”

Pride pricked at me like pins. Maybe my grades had done this. Maybe the hours I’d spent staring at algorithms while everyone else slept finally counted for something. Maybe, for once, someone had stopped reading at “medical history.”

I followed the polite assistant down a hushed corridor, my pulse tacked faster. My mouth went dry. The door at the end was bigger than the others, which felt exactly on-brand.

The assistant tapped once, pushed it open, and melted away.

I stepped inside.

And froze.

Him.

He stood by the window like the city belonged to him. Sunlight sharpened his profile into gold. He turned as if he’d felt me before he saw me. The smile on his mouth was polished, corporate, learnable. His eyes looked daring..

“Clear my schedule,” he said without looking away from me. “No interruptions.”

“Yes, sir,” came a faint voice from somewhere beyond the door.

The latch clicked and we were alone.

The room felt too large and too intimate at once. He was no longer half-naked, no cedar sheets, no lavender oil. An elegant suit, a power tie, expense and restraint. But underneath the fabric was the same storm.

“Welcome to Leads Corp, Miss Vamica.” His voice was warm and smooth and thoroughly lethal. “I’m Knight Magnus.” He let my name linger like he wanted to taste it. “I’ll be handling your interview personally.”

My stomach dropped straight through the floor. The walls closing in on me.

Of course. Of course the universe wasn’t being generous. Of course the man who had pressed his mouth to my clit, who had pulled sounds out of me I didn’t know I owned, was the man who could hand me a future—or close the door on it completely.

The man who had paid for my body was now my boss.

My heart, traitorous thing, didn’t falter. It rolled into a steady beat under his gaze, as if it remembered him and had chosen a side.

“Take a seat,” Knight said mildly, like we were two strangers meeting for the first time. Like he hadn’t had his cock down my throat. Like I hadn’t almost begged him to break me in half.

I sat, mostly because my knees decided rebellion wasn’t an option.

His smile sharpened, subtle but filthy. “Let’s talk about what you can do for me.”

Heat licked up my spine, dirty and uninvited. My mouth was sandpaper. My brain tried to think about spreadsheets, logic, anything safe. But all it spat out was the memory of him groaning so tight, calling me bunny while I melted around his fingers.

“Tell me,” he said, tilting his head, eyes locked on me like he was undressing me right there. “What are you best at?”

The answer that nearly slipped: Not dying when men like you touch me. Not saying no when every part of me is begging yes. Not collapsing when my body wants more than my heart can handle.

What slipped out instead was, “Patterns. I notice what’s off… what doesn’t fit”

“Good,” he said softly, like he’d heard my dirty thoughts anyway. “We’ll need that.”

We. That little word landed with teeth. A promise. A warning. Maybe both.

My phone buzzed in my bag. Reflex had me reaching—Grandma. His gaze dropped, slow, like the weight of a palm sliding down my body.

“Expecting a call?” he asked, velvet wrapping around steel.

“Yes,” I said. Too honest. Too small.

He nodded once. “Answer if it’s her.”

“Her?”. He said it like he already knew, like he’d been standing in the same house with me all night.

“This is an interview,” he continued, lowering himself into his chair like a king settling onto a throne. “So we’ll do it properly.” He paused, then his lips curved. “And then we’ll do the other thing properly too.”

My pulse did a shameful, unprofessional backflip.

“What other thing?” I asked, aiming for cool, landing but stopped closer to begging.

His smile sliced me clean. “The one you ran from.”

The air tightened, thick and obscene. Every breath caught in my throat. I swallowed, dry-mouthed, trying to pretend I wasn’t unraveling. I’d thought the mask last night kept me safe, kept me faceless. But I’d been wrong. He knew exactly who I was.

I lifted my chin anyway, faking courage like lingerie. “Ask your questions,” I said. “Let’s begin.”

His eyes burned, approval and threat tangled together. “Excellent,” he murmured.