The executive residence occupied the entire 43rd floor—a sprawling, open-plan masterpiece of glass, black marble, and warm teak that NexusTech had designed as both a flex for investors and a panic-room for founders who sometimes worked eighty-hour weeks. Tonight it felt less like luxury and more like a velvet trap.
Vicky’s guest suite was at the far east end: king bed with 800-thread-count sheets, rainfall shower, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Third Mainland Bridge lights flickering through rain. She dropped her tote on the chaise, kicked off her heels, and stood barefoot on the cool marble, trying to breathe normally.
She changed into soft black leggings and an oversized off-shoulder tee—nothing sexy, just comfortable. Then she hesitated, swapped the tee for a fitted ribbed t
