Doris Elizabeth Corday

I paced around my room, tugging at the stiff collar of my dress. Mr. Illion still hadn't added anything else to my closet. All I had were these ridiculous black dresses with white blouses, perfectly prim and proper.

They were almost as bad as the choker. Almost.

The past week, I'd tried to play it smart — seductive, even. If I could get on his good side, maybe I could gather enough information to finally expose him. But my temper usually got the best of me, and I wasn't exactly winning him over with my charm.

No, in order to seduce a man, said man had to have normal human desires.

Which Mr. Illion clearly did not.

Still, I'd managed to convince him to let me prove my loyalty. I was surprised how quickly he set a date for it. And at a hotel, too...

Perhaps I really did seduce the man.

With nothing else to do while I waited, I opted for pacing around the penthouse instead of my room, stretching my legs while I was at it.

The place was immaculate, and weirdly sterile, with little to nothing that gave away his personality. No photos, no trinkets, not even a misplaced book. It was like he didn't live there at all.

The only sign of life was the orange tree by the kitchen. I stopped and brushed my fingers over one of the leaves. This and the fridge full of orange juice were the only rather unique traits I could find. And it only added to my confusion of what went through Rob B. Illion's mind.

Ding.

At the sound of the elevator, I headed toward the foyer.

Secretary Coy stepped inside, his gaze cool and professional, as always. He carried that tablet of his — something I realized he never appeared without.

With things a little more calmed down after this week, I finally had enough room in my head to look at the man properly. He had a quiet handsomeness about him, with chestnut blond hair brushed back carefully and blue eyes always observing everything around him.

"Miss Corday," he greeted with a nod. "I trust you're ready."

"As ready as I'll ever be," I said, crossing my arms. "What's the plan? You're here to babysit me all the way to the hotel?"

He adjusted his glasses.

"I'm here to escort you. Mister Illion's waiting for you at the Shermont Hotel." He gave me a quick once-over, his gaze lingering on the choker for just a second too long. "Shall we?"

"Let's get this over with."

I followed him to the elevator, and we headed to the ground floor. The silence stretched uncomfortably, and I decided to break it.

"So, Coy — may I call you Coy? What exactly does Mister Illion have planned at this fancy hotel? Got something inappropriate in mind?"

"Call me as you wish," he said with a sideways glance. "And Mister Illion's plans are his own. Personally, I think asking for this test of loyalty was a huge mistake. But since it has already come to this, you'd do well to stick to your role and not ask too many questions."

"Noted," I said.

He scanned through reports on his tablet, his movements almost robotic.

"Are you always so stiff?" I asked. "Mister Illion's not here so you can chill."

His lips twitched, as though he wanted to smile but forgot how.

"I'm not stiff. I just execute orders as any employee should. Mister Illion has a way of knowing everything, and he doesn't tolerate disobedience."

"Oh, I'm aware," I said in deadpan, scratching at the skin under my choker. "You think I don't feel it every day? Come on, Coy. You can't tell me you've never thought of walking away from all this?"

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he studied me, a crease forming between his brows.

"Why would I do that? My place is here, and I know my role."

I leaned in a little closer, holding his gaze.

"And yet, why do I always get the feeling that you're unhappy?"

His brows rose at that. Just then, the elevator opened, and we walked toward the lobby.

"On the contrary, I'm very content," he said. "The pay is better than most other jobs."

"Is money all that matters?"

I said it to try to get him to rethink his obligations to Mr. Illion, but I was mistaken.

His gaze remained ahead, but even without him looking at me, I still caught the way his eyes crinkled into a smile. Like he saw something far away that he adored.

"Isn't money the best?" he asked.

I stopped myself from laughing. I never expected the guy to be such a materialist.

To be honest, I couldn't even judge him. I'd much rather be miserable in a mansion than miserable in my crappy apartment.

"I suppose it is," I agreed.

We got to the tinted SUV. Instead of sitting at the front with the chauffeur like usual, he opted to get in the back with me. Seeing this little gesture, I decided getting close to Mr. Illion's right-hand man might not be a bad idea after all.

I cleared my throat.

"Don't you ever get tired of always following orders like a lapdog? Ever feel like shaking things up?"

Coy remained focused on his tablet as a subtle smile tugged at him.

"Are you trying to get me to join your side, Miss Corday?"

I stiffened in my seat.

Jeeze, okay. This guy clearly makes use of his glasses.

He'll be a tough nut to crack after all.

"Can you blame me?" I sighed.

"You're determined, I'll give you that," he said. "But no, I don't have any desire to shake things up. My job is to ensure Mister Illion's rules are followed."

"Then you must know him pretty well," I said, pressing on. "What's with the obsession with oranges?"

He chuckled, a surprisingly light sound that had a feeling of summer break.

"You'd have to ask him yourself about that one."

"Maybe I will." I matched his smile with one of my own. "But something tells me you know more than you let on, Coy. You could be a little more forthcoming, you know?"

"Forthcoming?" he repeated. His voice lost a bit of that light humor. "I don't know what you're hoping to find out, but my advice is the same: stick to the contract, Miss Corday. Don't get any ideas about getting closer to Mister Illion. It won't end the way you think."

I tilted my head.

"Why? You don't think I can handle myself?"

"It's not about handling yourself," he replied. "It's about surviving. Mister Illion isn't someone you can manipulate, and I'd hate to see you get hurt."

That last part I didn't expect.

I scratched the back of my neck.

"Well, thanks for the warning. But I usually turn out just fine."

The car pulled up to the Shermont Hotel, a sprawling building with gleaming glass windows and marble columns. As we got out, I couldn't help but admire the elegance of the place. Even the air felt expensive.

Coy led me inside, past a foyer decorated with flowers and chandeliers that could probably fetch me a penny if I managed to snatch a few crystals.

We rode the elevator up in silence, and I couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. Coy's earlier warning replayed in my head.

Personally, I think asking for this test of loyalty was a huge mistake.

I pushed the warning aside. This was my chance to finally gain Mr. Illion's trust. I had to focus.

Coy stopped outside a door, room 1313. He was about to open it but paused with his grip on the handle. It was so brief, I could've been mistaken, but the look he gave me felt... sorry.

Then the door swung open, and I finally understood why.

I froze.

The air got knocked out of my lungs as every hair on my body stood on end.

There, in the middle of the room, Mr. Illion stood but he was not alone. And the look in his eyes told me that whatever this was, it wasn't going to end well.

I took in the rest of the room with a growing sense of dread. Armed men lined the walls, their faces hard and impassive, like statues. In the center of it all was a man tied to a chair, his head hanging down, his face a mess of bruises and blood.

My heart clenched as a memory hit me — from that first night where Mr. Illion allowed the execution of a man in a position identical to this one.

No way... Would he have me watch this?

Mr. Illion's voice cut through the air, snapping me back to the present. He extended a pistol toward me, the dark metal gleaming under the chandelier lights.

"Take it," he commanded, his black eyes holding absolutely nothing.

I stared at the gun, a pit of dread settling deep in my stomach.

Is he serious?

When nothing about his face suggested otherwise, my fingers reluctantly wrapped around the grip. The weight felt wrong, heavy, like it belonged to someone else. I'd never held a gun before, let alone fired one.

Across the room, the captured man lifted his head and locked eyes with me. The terror there was unmistakable, even with the gag stifling his pleas.

"Who is he?" My voice trembled, but I forced myself to meet Mr. Illion's gaze.

"It might be better for you if you don't know his name."

My throat dried.

"What did he do?"

"Does it matter?" Mr. Illion's tone was almost bored. "You said you'd do anything to prove your loyalty. Here's your chance."

I looked at the man again, my chest tightening painfully.

"You really intend for me to pull the trigger?" I asked. When Mr. Illion only responded with a slow nod, my heart rate picked up even faster. "I need to know what he did. I can't just shoot him without knowing why."

Mr. Illion sighed, running a hand through his black hair as if this was all some minor inconvenience.

"You really think you're in a position to ask questions, Miss Corday? If you're truly loyal, it shouldn't matter who he is."

I swallowed hard, the gun seeming to grow heavier with every passing second.

"I'm not a killer."

"Then learn," he said simply. "Adapt. Or were you only pretending to be loyal?"

I couldn't answer him, so he took a step closer, his eyes colder than ever.

"Did you think seducing me would be enough?" he asked in a voice low enough for only me to hear.

Shame burned across my face at that.

"I thought I could prove myself without killing someone..." I said with as much a steady tone as I could muster.

"Everyone has to get their hands dirty eventually," he replied.

"Yet you never take those gloves off," I shot back with a snicker.

His eyes held mine and I thought that maybe tonight would be the night that my quippy remarks got me killed.

"Just pull the trigger, Miss Corday."

I very nearly pointed the gun at him but controlled myself enough to turn toward the man in the chair.

My hands tightened around the gun, and my finger brushed against the trigger. Maybe this was all just some fucked up test? Maybe the gun was unloaded, and this was just some sick game he could watch? I didn't know the first thing about guns though. I had no idea where the safety was or how to check if it had bullets.

And even if I did check, wouldn't it be a bad look? The whole point was for him to see if I could kill for him.

My hands trembled as I raised the pistol, struggling to keep my aim steady.

Was it loaded or unloaded?

A test or straight up murder?

"Hurry up," Mr. Illion taunted, a cruel smile curling at his lips. "I don't have time to waste here."

His words grated at me, stoking a fire I couldn't control. I tightened my grip on the gun, closing my eyes for a moment as I tried to summon the courage to pull the trigger. I knew that if I didn't, Mr. Illion would never trust me, and everything I'd worked for would be wasted.

But could I actually take a life?

You have to do this, I told myself, trying to silence the screaming voice in my head. You've made it this far. You can't fail now. It's not like you lived some moral life up until now anyway.

I took a shaky breath and opened my eyes, staring down the barrel at the man in the chair. I tried to detach myself, to see him as an object, something inanimate, something that wasn't a person at all.

"Miss Corday, tonight if you will," Mr. Illion demanded, his tone colder than ever. "I thought you said you'd do anything."

I have to.

I adjusted my grip, my finger inching closer to the trigger. Just one pull. One pull and it would be over. I'd have proven myself, and I'd be one step closer to finally getting what I needed from Mr. Illion.

But as I looked into the man's eyes, all the wrong questions swarmed me.

Who was this guy? What did he do? Did he have a family? How did his life get him here? Was he just working for the wrong people? Did he have someone waiting for him at home?

I hesitated, my pulse thundering in my ears.

This isn't you, a voice whispered, growing louder. You're not a murderer.

But if I didn't do this, I'd lose my chance of taking Mr. Illion down.

It's nothing personal, I wanted to tell the man. It's either you or me.

I bit down on my lip, hard enough to draw blood. I forced myself to raise the gun again, ignoring the man's pleading eyes, and the way his chest rose and fell in quick, desperate breaths.

Just do it. Pull the trigger. He's just a stranger.

But I knew. Deep down, I knew.

I couldn't do it.

My arms dropped, the gun lowering as I stared at the floor. My vision blurred with tears I refused to let fall.

Mr. Illion's expression shifted, boredom filling his gaze as he stepped forward and snatched the gun from my hands.

"You're really inefficient," he sighed, like I was a dated tool that had grown blunt.

Without breaking eye contact, he pointed the gun at my head and pulled the trigger.

My stomach dropped.

The click echoed in the room, and the relief was so overwhelming, I nearly lost my balance. I used every bit of strength left in me to force my legs to keep holding me.

Mr. Illion's smirk chilled me to the bone.

I failed...

I lost whatever fragile trust he might have had in me...

"I suppose you're not cut out for this after all," he said.

In the next second, he snapped his gloved fingers.

One of the armed men raised his gun. Before I could fully grasp what was unfolding, a shot rang with a muffled whiz. My heart skipped as the man in the chair slump forward, blood painting the floor in a vicious arc.

Warm droplets splattered across my face, sticky and unsettling. I stumbled back, pulse pounding as if lightning had struck my veins.

Did he...?

A surge of panic flooded my senses, drowning out everything else. I wiped at the blood on my skin with trembling hands, but its warmth clung to me, as if searing itself into my memory.

"You... You're a monster!" I gasped, glaring at Mr. Illion through my tears. "All of you are monsters! You're all going to hell."

Mr. Illion arched a brow, looking almost amused.

"Is that supposed to hurt my feelings?"

I turned on my heel, rushing for the door. I had no plan, just an overwhelming urge to get as far away from him as possible. But Mr. Illion raised a hand, signaling to his men. Before I could reach the door, two of them grabbed my arms, pulling me back.

"Let me go!" I screamed, kicking and fighting with everything I had. "I'm done with this!"

"Take her to the car," Mr. Illion ordered, his voice like steel. "We're going back to the penthouse."

"Don't fucking touch me!"

My fist sunk into one of the guard's faces with a satisfying crack and he stumbled back.

This prompted three more men to help restrain me. I didn't hold back for even a second. I scratched and thrashed and kicked until the men were well-covered in bruises as they hauled me off.

I caught Coy's eyes and whatever he must have seen in me, it had him looking the other way.

They dragged me out and shoved me into the waiting car. I barely registered the drive back, my mind a blur of rage and desperation, a thousand escape plans racing through my head.

When we arrived it took six of them to force me into my room.

The door locked shut but I pounded at it with all my strength.

Mr. Illion's voice came from the other side.

"Just so you know, I knew you were only trying to trick me," he said. "But you're not getting out of this. And whatever game you think you're playing, just know that the house always wins."

"You're wrong!" I bellowed as the door rattled from my fists. "I'm not staying here! And I'm not done! You're the one who should be worried!"

His laughter echoed back, chilling me to my core.

"Good luck with that," he replied, his footsteps fading down the hall.

I sank to the floor, clenching my fists so tightly that my nails dug into my palms.

Right then, I made a silent vow.

If ever it came to me taking a life... Rob B. Illion would be my first.