The sleek black sedan glided to a stop in front of the towering Vane International Building, its glass facade reflecting the morning sun like a mirror of cold ambition.
A uniformed security guard immediately stepped forward and opened the rear door with practiced efficiency. Silas emerged without a word, adjusting the cuff of his immaculate suit jacket as he strode toward the entrance.
He didn't glance back or check whether Sylvain was following.
Sylvain climbed out quickly, heart still heavy from the morning's humiliations, and hurried to catch up. His footsteps echoed across the polished marble lobby as he wove between clusters of sharply dressed professionals.
By the time he reached the bank of elevators, Silas was already surrounded by a small group of executives who fell silent at his approach.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime. The half-dozen people already inside froze the moment they saw Silas.
Without a single word exchanged, they scrambled out, pressing themselves against the walls of the lobby as if making space for royalty. The elevator stood empty, waiting.
Silas stepped inside without hesitation.
Sylvain followed a beat later, cheeks warming with awkward discomfort. The displaced group lingered nearby, eyes averted, clearly waiting for another elevator.
"You can join us," Sylvain offered, flashing what he hoped was a polite smile. "We'll drop you at your floor."
No one moved. A few offered shallow bows, but none dared speak or step forward.
Silas let out a low chuckle, the sound rich and mocking in the confined space. "They won't be able to enter."
Sylvain turned to him, brows furrowed in genuine confusion. "Why can't they join us? There's plenty of room."
Silas said nothing. The doors binged shut, sealing them inside the gleaming metal box. The elevator began its smooth ascent, numbers climbing steadily on the digital display.
Almost immediately, Sylvain's breathing changed. It grew shallow, then raspy, each inhale shorter than the last. The walls seemed to press closer, the air thicker.
His chest tightened as if invisible bands were wrapping around his ribs. He gripped the handrail, knuckles whitening.
"What's happening to you?" Silas frowned, stepping closer and catching Sylvain's arm in a firm but surprisingly steady grip.
"Nothing…" Sylvain managed, though his voice cracked. His breathing accelerated into quick, panicked gasps. The elevator suddenly felt too small, too sealed, too inescapable. Memories of the contract, the loss of control, the way Silas had looked at him last night—all of it crashed down at once.
Silas didn't hesitate. He pulled Sylvain firmly into his arms, one hand pressing against the small of his back while the other rested between his shoulder blades. "Breathe," he commanded softly, voice low and authoritative. "In… slowly. Out. That's it. Follow my rhythm."
Sylvain's face pressed against the crisp fabric of Silas's shirt. The steady beat of the other man's heart contrasted sharply with his own frantic pulse. Silas's hand moved in slow, soothing circles on his back. "I never expected to see this vulnerable side of you so soon," Silas murmured, almost to himself.
There was a hint of dark fascination in his tone, as if discovering a new weakness to exploit. The elevator chimed softly as it reached the top floor. The doors opened.
Sylvain jerked away from the embrace the instant fresh air touched his face, cheeks burning with embarrassment. He kept his head down, refusing to meet Silas's eyes.
Silas merely chuckled again, a low, satisfied sound, and stepped out into the executive suite with Sylvain trailing silently behind.
A poised woman in a tailored navy dress approached them immediately. "Good morning, Mr. Vane. The overseas group is still waiting for your response on the merger terms."
"Schedule a lunch meeting with them," Silas replied without breaking stride. "Also have their full documentation and any supporting files prepared and sent to my desk by noon."
"Yes, sir." She hesitated briefly before continuing. "About the leverage situation… he's been threatening to harm himself if he doesn't get out of our sight soon."
Silas entered his expansive corner office and dropped into the high-backed leather chair behind the massive walnut desk. Abstract art on the walls, and a private seating area with deep sofas.
"One simple task," he said, his voice sharpening as he fixed his gaze on the assistant. "Just one job, and you couldn't handle it properly."
His eyes burned into her with such intensity that she immediately lowered her head. "I'm sorry, sir. We'll resolve it immediately."
"Make sure those men stay invisible. Tell him I'm sending a package his way if he behaves. And bring some fresh juice and light snacks for my guest." Silas gestured toward Sylvain, who stood awkwardly near the doorway.
"Understood, sir." Secretary Lena nodded quickly and exited, leaving the two men alone.
"Sit," Silas said, nodding toward the plush leather couch across the room.
Sylvain obeyed, sinking into the cushions. His mind wandered immediately, drifting back to better days when he had walked into buildings like this as an equal. The weight of his new reality pressed down harder than the elevator walls had.
"What are you thinking about?" Silas asked, leaning back in his chair and tapping his fingers rhythmically on the polished desk.
"Just… recalling some old memories," Sylvain replied, a sad shadow crossing his face.
"About your former position, I assume." Silas's fingers continued their steady tapping, the sound sharp in the quiet office. "When you still had power."
Sylvain refused to answer. He simply met Silas's gaze with a hard, defiant stare.
Silas didn't seem bothered. "What was that episode in the elevator?" The tapping continued.
"I don't know," Sylvain muttered, shrugging his shoulders. "Maybe claustrophobia. It came out of nowhere."
"You never had anything like that before," Silas pressed, eyes narrowing slightly. "Why would it suddenly appear now?"
Sylvain looked away, jaw tight. The truth hovered unspoken between them: the suffocating reality of the incident. The proximity of that man where it had happened in the elevator.
The elevator had simply been the final trigger in a morning already heavy with humiliation.
Silas watched him closely, the corner of his mouth curving in faint amusement. He rose from his chair and crossed the room with slow, measured steps, stopping directly in front of the couch. "You can hide behind convenient excuses if you want, but we both know you will have to tell me when you are ready."
He reached down and tilted Sylvain's chin upward with two fingers, forcing their eyes to meet. "And I intend for you to tell me everything you are hiding or else....."
A soft knock sounded at the door. Lena entered with a tray of fresh orange juice, sliced fruit, and delicate pastries. She set it on the low table in front of Sylvain without a word and quickly withdrew.
"Eat," Silas ordered, returning to his desk. "You'll need your strength. The day has only just begun. You will be getting your gift this afternoon."
Sylvain stared at the tray, appetite nonexistent. Yet he reached for the glass anyway, the simple act of obedience tasting bitter on his tongue.
Sylvain took a slow sip of juice and wondered how much longer he could pretend he wasn't already breaking.