Chapter 2: A Game Of Control.

The next morning, I walked into Nexus Wealth Management with a clearer mind. Yesterday had been… unsettling. Meeting Rakan Malik had been unsettling.

But today, I was here to work. Nothing more.

I dropped my bag onto my desk and powered up my computer, scanning through emails. A full schedule, a few urgent reports, and—

I froze.

One email stood out, its subject line simple but direct.

"Malik. My office. Now."

A strange shiver crawled down my spine.

I exhaled, squared my shoulders, and stood. He was my boss. I wouldn't let him intimidate me.

I knocked once before stepping inside.

He was at his desk, perfectly poised, effortlessly powerful. His suit was black again, his wrist adorned with an expensive watch, and his ice-blue eyes lifted slowly from a document.

He didn't speak immediately, just let his gaze drag over me—assessing, measuring.

"Miss Quinn," he murmured finally. "Close the door."

A request. No, a command.

I hesitated for a fraction of a second before obeying.

The moment the latch clicked into place, he leaned back in his chair, tapping a pen against the desk.

"I reviewed your report," he said, his tone unreadable.

I stood tall. "And?"

A small smirk ghosted his lips. "Efficient. Calculated. Borderline impressive."

I held my breath. Was that a compliment?

"But," he continued, voice dropping slightly, "you missed one detail."

I tensed as he slid a paper toward me. I stepped forward, picking it up—and my stomach dropped.

It wasn't my report. It was a contract.

A highly confidential document detailing a secret offshore account linked to NWM. A file I had never seen before.

I looked up sharply. "I didn't include this because I was never given access to it."

His eyes darkened. "Exactly."

I stilled. A test.

"You want me to question things," I said slowly.

"Always," he murmured. "You're not just here to do as you're told, Miss Quinn. You're here to prove you belong in my world."

My pulse quickened.

Was this still about work? Or was this about something else entirely?

I held his gaze, refusing to blink. If this was a test, I wasn't going to fail.

"You expect me to dig into things I'm not supposed to see?" I asked, voice steady.

Rakan leaned forward, elbows resting on his desk. Slow. Calculated. Dangerous.

"I expect you to be smart enough to know when something doesn't add up," he murmured. "And brave enough to question it."

His eyes flickered over my face, lingering just a second too long. Like he was waiting for something.

I swallowed, dropping my gaze back to the document. "This isn't in the official database."

His lips twitched. "It isn't."

A challenge. He wanted to see if I'd ask why.

I tapped my nails against the paper. "So, what exactly am I looking at?"

Silence. Thick and suffocating.

Then—"Confidential offshore accounts tied to Nexus Wealth Management."

My pulse spiked.

Illegal? No. Not necessarily. But off-record financial dealings always came with complications. Hidden money meant hidden motives.

I schooled my expression. "And you're showing me this because…?"

Rakan exhaled slowly, tilting his head. Assessing me again.

"Because, Miss Quinn, I don't like blind obedience," he said, voice smooth as sin. "I prefer loyalty that's earned. And loyalty requires trust."

I sucked in a slow breath. He wanted me to prove myself.

Not just as an assistant. As something more.

I wasn't sure if I should be flattered—or terrified.

Before I could respond, a knock interrupted the moment.

The door pushed open, and a woman stepped inside.

Polished. Beautiful. Confident.

Camila.

Rakan's fiancée.

Her hazel eyes flicked to me, and for a second, something cold passed over her expression. Then, a soft smile—too polite to be real.

"Am I interrupting?" she asked smoothly.

Rakan didn't even blink. "Yes."

My breath caught. Sharp. Direct. Unapologetic.

Camila's gaze flickered back to me, assessing. And suddenly, I understood.

She knew exactly who I was.

And she didn't like it.

Camila stepped farther into the room, her heels clicking against the polished floor. **She was the kind of woman who belonged in Rakan Malik's world—**poised, elegant, untouchable.

And she knew it.

Her sharp gaze flicked back to me, curiosity hidden beneath a thin veil of politeness. "I don't believe we've met."

I squared my shoulders, refusing to shrink under her scrutiny. "Zaphyra Quinn."

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Ah. The new assistant."

The way she said it. Like I was disposable. Like I didn't matter.

Rakan leaned back in his chair, watching the exchange in silence. Not interfering. Not stopping it. Just… observing.

I lifted my chin. "That's right."

Her eyes flickered with something unreadable before she turned her attention back to Rakan. "We need to talk."

He exhaled slowly, like this was an inconvenience. "I'm in a meeting."

Camila's expression didn't even flinch. "And I'm your fiancée."

Something shifted in the air.

I kept my face neutral, but my mind was racing. Fiancée.

I knew about their engagement, of course. Everyone did. But now that I was standing in the same room with them, I could see it for what it really was—business. Not love.

Rakan didn't respond immediately, just tapped his fingers against his desk. Slow. Calculating.

Then, finally, he waved a hand. "Leave it on my desk. I'll review it later."

A flicker of irritation crossed her face, but she masked it quickly. She wasn't used to being dismissed.

Her lips parted, like she wanted to argue, but her gaze flicked back to me—and something in her changed.

I saw it then.

The possessiveness. The warning.

I wasn't a threat. Not yet. But I was a variable she didn't like.

She set a folder on his desk with a tight smile. "Don't take too long, Rakan."

Then, with a final glance at me, she turned on her heels and walked out, leaving behind the faint scent of expensive perfume and quiet hostility.

The moment the door clicked shut, I let out a slow breath.

"She doesn't like me."

Rakan's gaze flicked up, amusement dancing in those ice-blue eyes.

"She doesn't like anyone."

I studied him for a second. "That's not true."

A muscle in his jaw twitched—so subtle I almost missed it.

"She loves you," I said, testing the waters.

Silence.

Then—"That's not your concern."

My stomach tightened. It wasn't a denial.

Rakan pushed the confidential document toward me again, voice smooth and unreadable. "Get back to work, Miss Quinn."

Dismissed.

I nodded, grabbing the paper and walking out, but not before stealing one last glance at him.

His gaze was already back on me. Watching. Calculating. Dangerous.

I walked out of Rakan Malik's office, my pulse still unsteady.

Camila didn't like me. That much was obvious. But the real question was—why?

I wasn't a threat. I wasn't trying to be. I was here for work, not to disrupt her perfectly curated life.

And yet, the look in her eyes had been pure warning.

I dropped into my chair, exhaling slowly, trying to shake off the lingering tension.

"That was interesting."

I turned to see Eva leaning against my desk, arms crossed, watching me like she had already figured something out.

"What was?" I asked, keeping my expression neutral.

She smirked. "You just survived being in a room with both Rakan and Camila. Impressive."

I frowned. "Why would that be impressive?"

Eva hummed, tapping her nails against my desk. "Because Camila doesn't like women around her fiancé. And Rakan…" She tilted her head, studying me. "He doesn't usually pay attention to anyone."

Something sharp and hot curled in my stomach. Was that true?

I shook my head. "He's my boss. That's all."

Eva let out a soft laugh. Like she didn't believe a word I was saying.

"Sure," she said lightly. Then, with a glance toward his office, she straightened. "Word of advice? Keep your head down. Camila isn't just his fiancée—she's powerful. Connected. And she doesn't lose."

I frowned. "Lose what?"

Eva's smirk deepened. "You'll figure it out soon enough."

Then, before I could ask more, she pushed off my desk and walked away, leaving me with a strange sense of unease.

I turned back to my screen, trying to focus on work, but Eva's words wouldn't leave my head.

Camila doesn't lose.

Lose what?

A man? A relationship? A game I didn't even realize I was part of?

I exhaled, pushing the thought away. This wasn't my problem.

But deep down, I had the unsettling feeling that, whether I wanted to or not… I was already involved.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur of work and whispered conversations. I wasn't imagining it—people were watching me.

It wasn't open hostility, but it was there. Curiosity. Speculation.

By the time lunch rolled around, I needed a moment to breathe.

I grabbed my phone and headed toward the executive lounge—a sleek, glass-walled space reserved for high-level staff. Eva had mentioned it earlier, saying I could use it when I needed a break.

I stepped inside, scanning the room. A few executives sat in quiet corners, sipping espresso, reviewing deals on their tablets. This wasn't a place for mindless chatter.

I made my way to the coffee machine, pressing a button when—

"New girl."

A deep, amused voice sounded behind me.

I turned, finding myself face to face with a man who looked like he belonged in a movie about power and scandal.

Tall. Clean-shaven. Sharp gray suit, smirking like he owned the world.

"And you are?" I asked, arching a brow.

He chuckled, extending a hand. "Atlas Black. Head of Strategic Acquisitions."

I shook his hand—firm, steady, professional. "Zaphyra Quinn."

He tilted his head, studying me. "Assistant to Rakan Malik. That's interesting."

Something in his tone made my skin prickle. Like there was more weight to those words than there should be.

I pulled my hand back, reaching for my coffee. "What's so interesting about it?"

Atlas smirked. "Let's just say… assistants don't last long in that position."

I frowned. "Because of the workload?"

His eyes glinted with something unreadable. "Sure. Let's go with that."

I didn't like the way he said it.

Before I could push further, Eva walked into the lounge, her gaze locking onto me immediately. "Quinn. Malik's office. Now."

My stomach tightened.

Atlas let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. "And so it begins."

I grabbed my coffee, ignored the strange tension curling in my stomach, and followed Eva out.

Because whatever was waiting for me in Rakan Malik's office… I had a feeling it was only the beginning.

Rakan Malik's POV.

I leaned back in my chair, fingers drumming against my desk, eyes locked on the confidential document in front of me.

A problem. An anomaly. Something that needed to be handled.

But my focus kept drifting.

To her.

Zaphyra Quinn.

A puzzle I hadn't expected.

When she first walked in this morning—shoulders squared, eyes steady, no hesitation in her step—I expected another temporary employee. Another assistant who would follow orders, do the work, and fade into the background like the rest.

But she wasn't fading.

She was holding her ground.

I had pushed her earlier, expecting to see cracks—hesitation, intimidation, the need to please. But instead, she had questioned me.

She had looked me in the eye and demanded an answer.

A slow smirk tugged at my lips. Amusing. Unusual. Irritating.

I reached for my espresso, letting the rich bitterness settle on my tongue.

Eva's voice crackled through the intercom. "Quinn is on her way to your office."

I exhaled slowly, setting my cup down. Good.

She needed to understand something.

This wasn't a game. This was my world. And in my world, she followed my rules.

I glanced at the contract on my desk again—the one I had deliberately left out of her report.

Let's see how smart you really are, Miss Quinn.