IN THE QUIET OF HIS OFFICE

ays the same: expensive cedarwood, cold glass

he 64th floor of the Vane Tower, overlooking a cit

the security guards, she was "Badge 402." To Julian Vane, she didn't exist at all. She preferred it that way. It was 11:45 PM.

supposed to be here. The CEO was usually at a gala or a high-stakes dinner by this hour. But as he stepped into the room, he didn't look like the titan on the cover of Forbes. Hi

onto the desk, missing her hand by a mere inch. Elena pulled b

trying to resolve an image on a blurry screen. "You're still here," he said. His voice was a low, gravelly baritone that vibrated

e in this building at night is deafening. The noise of the mop... it's better." Elena hesitated. She should leave. Rule number on

said suddenly. Elena stopped. She looked down. The floor was spotless. She looked at him, confused. Julian was lea

Elena walked over to the towering glass shelves. She knelt, spraying the glass and wiping it. As she did, her eyes caught the title of a book tucked away on the bottom shelf: Meditations by

ward her. He didn't stop until he was standing directly behind her. She could smell him now-the cedarwood was real, mixed with the faint, bitter scent of black coffee and something warm, like sun-heated skin. He reached over her shoulder, his arm

aid, turning the book over in his hands. He looked at her again, his grey eyes

and more like a secret. "Why are you cleaning my floors at midnight, Elena?" "Be

ing to leave, but her hand slipped on the wet handle. She stumbled, and insti

apart-the man who owned the sky and the girl who polished it. The tension was a physical thing, a cord stretched tight between them. Elena looked up, her pulse fluttering in the h

"Goodnight, Mr. Vane," she whispered. As she pushed her cart out of the room, she looked back one last time. He wasn't

and neither of them knew