First Rule: Don’t Fall For The Enemy

MIRA’S POV

My reflection stared back at me from the gleaming elevator doors, and for a split second, I almost didn't recognize myself. Gone was agent Mira Weston with her wild curls and defiant green eyes.

In her place stood Elise Hart, polished, professional, perfectly controlled. Two years of preparation had led to this moment, and I couldn't afford a single mistake.

"Forty-seventh floor," the elevator announced in its mechanical voice.

My heart hammered against my ribs as the doors slid open to reveal the pristine marble lobby of Roth Corporation's executive level. Everything here screamed power and money, from the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city to the abstract art that probably cost more than most people's houses.

"Ms. Hart?" A woman in her fifties approached, her smile as sharp as her tailored suit. "I'm Margaret Rowan, Mr. Roth's Secretary. He's ready for you now."

"Thank you." My voice came out steady, betraying none of the chaos inside me.

She led me down a corridor lined with portraits of Adrian Roth's business conquests; buildings he'd acquired, companies he'd absorbed, lives he'd undoubtedly destroyed in his climb to the top. Each photograph felt like a warning, but I'd come too far to turn back now.

"Right through here," Margaret said, opening massive oak doors. "Mr. Roth, Ms. Hart has arrived."

The office beyond was a temple to masculine power. Dark wood, leather, and steel dominated the space, but it was the man behind the mahogany desk who commanded every molecule of oxygen in the room. Adrian Roth rose from his chair with predatory grace, and I felt my carefully constructed composure falter.

He looked younger than I'd expected, mid-thirties at most, with jet-black hair and eyes so dark they seemed to absorb light.