The room we enter is nearly bare—just a desk at its center and a bold black door looming behind it. At the desk sits a striking young woman, somehow radiating both elegance and strength. Her face lights up with a smile when she catches sight of Lyra.

  "Good evening."

  "No need for formalities with me, Shanshan." Lyra glides around the desk, and Shanshan rises to meet her, exchanging air kisses on each cheek. As Lyra leans back, she's beaming. Not just a polite smile, but a genuine one. Her eyes hold a warmth I haven't seen before, and she grips Shanshan’s shoulders with a tenderness that catches me off guard.

  The unexpected jab of envy surprises me. I'm puzzled by this strange reaction. Lyra is barely more than a stranger. Why should I care that she clearly adores this beautiful woman with her perfect skin and perfect laugh that seems to fill the empty room?

  Shanshan turns that perfect smile on me, and it’s everything I can do not to lean forward in response. The woman, is magnetic.

  She shifts fully to face me as Lyra releases her. "And who might you be?"

  Lyra’s laugh is low and liquid. “Tell Jianhua I’ve brought him a delightful little surprise.”

  My gaze snaps to her. No name. No introduction. Just a prop in her performance.

  Shanshan’s warmth vanishes behind a professional mask. Her smile dims to something practiced, her eyes cooling to polite interest. “Of course.”

  Lyra drifts in my direction as Shanshan picks up the phone. She ends up between me and the desk, obscuring my view. “You have nothing to fear here.”

  I almost laugh. "I'm about to be objectified. There's plenty to fear."

  Her expression is almost kind as she lifts a hand to curl a length of my hair around her fingers.

  I freeze, not sure if I want to pull away or move closer. Lyra drops her hand before I reach a conclusion. “Consent is everything, darling. Nothing will be done to you that you don’t want.”

  The unexpected kindness in her voice staggered me.

  “You can’t honestly think I’ll enjoy giving myself to a stranger.” I state coldly.

  Another of her shrugs. "You'd be surprised what you might enjoy now that you're in the Ruby Republic. This place offers the world’s most decadent lifestyle—and the easiest money you’ll ever make. Nothing is off limits. That is, if you're on the side of power."

  I stare at her, stunned.

  How can she possibly dismantle my entire belief system with a few choice words?

  “Was this the same way you climbed to the top here?” I don't mean to voice the question, but it's there all the same, taking up space between us.

  “You mean through sex? Certainly!” Her laugh is rich, unapologetic, echoing off the walls. “And I enjoyed it.”

  Before I can ask how, she continues, "But sex alone won't get you anywhere. It opens doors, not minds. It gives you access, not respect. And I don’t enjoy being on the submissive side of the power balance. I like to give orders, not take them."

  “Oh.” Nothing to say to that.

  Shanshan hangs up and gestures toward the black door.

  She spares another smile for Lyra. "Be good."

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  “It’ll never happen.” The words carry the weight of ritual, a line exchanged many times between them.

  And again, that stab of envy. Surely it's not because she seems to genuinely like this girl? Surely it's because I envy the freedom they both possess, the ability to do what they want, when they want. Surely.

  Lyra sweeps past the desk, casually dropping her bag onto its surface. After a momentary hesitation, I offer mine to Shanshan. She accepts it with a smile that’s meant to reassure—but it only reminds me how out of place I am.

  The door leads into a dimly lit bar area, but Lyra doesn't break her stride to allow me a closer look.

  I catch glimpses of several women clad in black, holding weapons clearly prohibited in this country where even longer knives are off-limits to private citizens.

  Then we’re in a hallway, heading back to another door—this one smaller, more intimate. It opens into a tastefully decorated office that lacks any hint of color. Gray on gray on gray, which should make it as soulless as the entrance, but somehow doesn’t.

  I almost miss the man sitting behind the desk, if not for the near-naked woman crouched between his legs. The girl has let down her hair to cover most of her face, yet I recognize her. The actress from the posters. The one whose smile lit up every billboard in the city.

  My gaze snags on the man on my second sweep of the room, and I frown. He's seated back in the shadows, and another quick glance confirms it's intentional.

  Most of the space is lit well enough. It's theatrical, but effective. The nerves that Lyra had temporarily calmed flare to life in response. I've brushed close enough to power to recognize it, and this man drips it, even when shrouded in darkness.

  “What have you brought me, Lyra?”

  Lyra presses a hand to the center of my back, urging me forward. I stagger a few steps, my legs suddenly not working correctly, and am grateful when she doesn’t drop her hand.

  Her smile to Jianhua is cool, calculated. Nothing like the warmth she gave Shanshan. “An opportunity.”

  “What makes you think I’m interested?”

  I’m not sure, but I don’t think he’s done more than glance at me since we walked into the room. I press my lips together and let Lyra take the lead.

  "Evangeline Hightower, the likely heir of the Hightower Group," Lyra introduces, with an almost imperceptible exaggeration.

  Jianhua lifts his head. He waves at the naked woman, who glides past us on bare toes. She is that actress, now I am sure.

  “Miss Hightower,” Jianhua leans forward, light grazing his face for the first time.

  He’s a handsome middle-aged man. Not particularly large, but only a fool believes all strength is physical. “Crypto coins are messy business. I didn't expect a young woman like you could become the centre of it.”

  “You are surrounded by women, yet you underestimate them.” I retort.

  He smiles, barely. “I like your fire. I'm listening.”

  "I'm willing to offer you five percent of the coins."

  His lips curve up the tiniest bit. “You’ll give me thirty.”

  “Tokenomics doesn't work this way. We only allocated twenty-five percent for all investors.”

  Lyra steps in, voice like silk drawn across a blade. “Why do you care about percentages, Jianhua. What you want is return. Multiples. Right? And let’s not waste breath on the future. Let's keep our eyes on the asset at hand.”

  She turns me with practiced ease—one hand on my shoulder, the other guiding my hips. I spin, exposed.

  Jianhua whistles.

  Lyra’s lips curl. “The future heir of one of the largest corporations in the Western world. That should satisfy the egos of those old men.”

  Jianhua’s gaze returns to me, sharper now. “Are you sure about this? It’s like a rollercoaster. Once you’re on, there’s no getting off.”

  His eyes narrow. "Don't be seized by impulses. Cool down for a couple of days, and think it through."

  "Once I decide on something, I never regret." My voice remains unwavering.

  "I see." He tilts his head. "Lyra."

  I nearly stumble when her hand vanishes. I hadn’t even realized she was still touching me—hadn’t noticed how much I’d been leaning on that quiet contact for strength.

  I stay upright, barely, as Jianhua rises and ushers Lyra out the door. The door clicks shut behind them, and I’m left alone. No phone. No distraction. Just silence and the echo of adrenaline.

  I sink into one of the leather chairs across from the desk, trying not to fidget. Everything’s in motion now. There’s no undoing it. I thought I’d feel relief. Instead, nerves flutter like moths in my stomach, erratic and relentless.

  I nearly jump out of my skin when the door opens again and a man walks in, until recognition floods in.

  I shoot to my feet. “John?”

  "Eva." He crosses toward me slowly, and I can’t help but measure the distance between the man I knew and the one standing before me.

  We attended Wharton together. The last time I saw him was three years ago—brief, forgettable. There were whispers he’d moved to Beijing, maybe gotten involved with someone powerful. But I never imagined him here.

  He looks good. There's a newfound confidence in his stride and the way he holds his broad shoulders that wasn't there before.

  His blond hair is a little shaggier, but it seems intentional and almost roguish. The kindness in his blue eyes, however, remains unchanged.

  He takes my hands gently, then hesitates. “I have to ask you some uncomfortable questions.”