Rebecca Grey closed her eyes and basked in the glow of the morning sun. She took a long, deep breath, only to exhale in a coughing fit.

Damn this smog, she thought.

Standing at the corner of one of the busiest streets in downtown New York, Rebecca quickly fished for her inhaler from her Adidas sling bag. After a quick puff, she felt much better. The pedestrian signal turned green, and Rebecca shoved her inhaler into her bag before swiftly joining the throng of people crossing the street.

A few dozen paces later found her standing in front of the Silverman Tower. Rebecca looked up, squinting her hazel eyes at the imposing skyscraper, looming above all other buildings in the vicinity. She cleared her throat, straightened the press pass around her neck, and brushed back the loose strands of curly hair that had slipped out of her ponytail. Her hair was naturally straight, but on a whim, she’d decided to go for a perm and had quickly come to regret the decision. Her curls had been hiding in her ponytail ever since.

Rebecca wished she were hiding from the world in bed. But here she was, ready for a brand-new assignment. She whipped out her trusty Canon PowerShot. The little beauty had seen Rebecca grow from a rookie journalist to a Pulitzer Prize-winning one. Today, Rebecca would use her trusty camera to provide press coverage for one of the hottest stories in town: a murder at the Silverman Tower.

The Silverman Corporation had long been one of New York’s most influential business empires, with lucrative stakes in real estate, aviation, oil, and renewable energy, as well as the entertainment industry. Its current CEO, William Silverman, recently elevated the company to new heights by making the bold move of investing in virtual reality, a gamble that paid off handsomely and rocketed William into the title of Time’s entrepreneur of the year. Silverman was now the region’s top company and, for a time, seemed invincible.

Then, the murder happened. By morning, the whole place was swarmed with police officers, reporters, and curious passersby. Now, the main entrance to the building was sealed off with bright yellow caution tape. A lanky police officer noticed Rebecca inching toward the barrier tape, his eyes narrowing in annoyance. Perhaps he had dealt with too many nosy onlookers this morning.

He held up his palm and addressed Rebecca. “Young lady, I’m afraid the Silverman Tower is off-limits today. If you’d be so kind as to…” His voice trailed off, and his weary eyes widened when he saw Rebecca’s press pass. “Miss Grey! My apologies. I had no idea you were covering this case. I’m a huge fan of your work! Your report on the Darlington case really helped bring justice to the trial. Hey, can I take a selfie with you?”

Rebecca smiled sheepishly, not sure how to decline the overly eager police officer. She hadn’t gotten used to her newfound fame. Just as she was about to open her mouth to offer some feeble excuse, John Grant appeared.

“John!” Rebecca squealed, ecstatic to see a familiar face.

John walked to where she stood, and she hugged him, her face disappearing in the broad shoulders of his black trench coat. His coat smelled so good; it reminded her of a pine tree.

“Detective Grant, my apologies. I had no idea you knew Ms. Grey,” the police officer said, taking a step back in intimidation.

And he had a right to feel intimidated. John Grant was rising in the ranks at the headquarters and was recently promoted to the post of detective. At a height of over six feet, he had Viking gold hair that he wore in a casual jumble, but it still somehow managed to look neat and flowing. John’s baby blue eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief, and he laid a protective arm over Rebecca’s shoulder, flashing his pearly whites at the police officer.

“Of course, I know her. She’s soon to be Mrs. Grant!”

Rebecca gave John an evil eye but didn’t feel the need to explain. Instead, she took the opportunity to duck under his shoulder and strode into the building through a carved mahogany revolving doorway. Just inside, Rebecca found herself standing inside the grandest entrance hall she had ever seen. The soaring space was simply but tastefully decorated with a massive, sparkling chandelier. Had Rebecca not been here for work, she would’ve loved to explore the immaculate reception area even more.

John glided in behind her with athletic grace, and the eyes of several female employees in the foyer followed suit. It came as no surprise, as John was blessed with not only the physique of an athlete but also the face of a demi-god, with almond-shaped eyes and well-defined cheekbones that sat on an extremely masculine jaw. He bent over and flicked his finger on her forehead.

“Earth to Becca.”

Rebecca rolled her eyes. “I hate it when you do that, John,” she growled.

“You used to love it when we were kids.” John threw up his hands in feigned innocence. “Anyways, it’s a good thing you came late. The body's been removed by the forensics.”

Rebecca’s eyes narrowed. “You mean, it’s a bad thing.”

John shook his head. “Nope. It was gruesome. The victim had her skull smashed. From the looks of it, she died instantly. Never had a chance to defend herself. But you know what irks me the most?”

Rebecca intuitively grabbed her smartphone and turned on her recording app.

John patiently waited for her before he continued. “This is off the record until forensics releases the report, but just so you know, the victim had her eyes stapled shut.”

Rebecca could feel the hair on the back of her neck stand. She didn’t like where this was going.

“It’s bad enough that the victim was so young. Just an intern. Company records show that she was only 20. Just 20 years old! And she had to go down like this. It wasn’t just an accidental murder; the murderer meticulously stapled her eyes shut in parallel lines.”

Rebecca looked to the left of the entrance hall where more police officers were gathered. “Can you show me where the murder took place?” she asked quietly.

John’s eyes followed her gaze. He nodded his head, took her by the hand, and gently guided her through the crowd. They stopped in front of a capsule elevator, where John pressed the “down” button. The elevator door opened immediately, and they both stepped in. As the door closed, John tapped the B button, signifying that they were to go to the basement.

He looked down at her, his eyes softening. “You okay with this?”

Rebecca shot a look back. She hated being viewed as weak. Sure, she was slightly claustrophobic, but she was a big girl. And nothing was going to stop her from getting her story. She took another puff from her inhaler and nodded her head enthusiastically.

“Of course! You know me. Always ready for anything.”

The elevator started moving down, and Rebecca could no longer see the bustling activities on the ground floor. Instead, the scenery faded to black. Rebecca gripped her sling bag tightly, not daring to move. John kept silent, knowing that this wasn’t the time for small talk. In a matter of seconds, the darkness was replaced by bright fluorescent lights. They’d reached the basement, and the elevator door slid open. Rebecca quickly stepped out and followed John to the corner where several police officers were gathered. One looked up from his notes and moved out of their way as they approached.

Rebecca looked down at the victim’s chalk outline. It indicated that she’d been lying in a sprawled position, but curiously, there was very little sign of blood. Almost instantly, she got to work, taking photos from all the necessary angles without stepping too close. She shot the surroundings, too, from the barren layout of the smooth concrete floor to the rows upon rows of filing cabinets. All in all, the basement was clean and surprisingly neat.

John spoke up, “This is where they keep their old files. The staff seldom come down here, so this basement has been made into a store of sorts. “

“Hmm.” Rebecca nodded as she scanned the basement, taking in the lack of emergency exits. From where she stood, she could only see one. “So, there are only two ways to get in and out: the elevator and the emergency exit?” she asked.

“Yes, and you see that security camera over there? It’s been out of commission since last Christmas.” John gave a wry smile.

“Typical. How about the cameras at the elevator and emergency stairways?” Rebecca queried, although she felt that she already knew the answer.

“Well, we have our typical crime case here. Nothing was caught on those cameras. It’s as if the victim just materialized here. Our tech guys are checking the authenticity of the camera recordings right now. I have a feeling someone tampered with it.”

John left Rebecca for a while to talk to an officer, and she was left to wander around on her own. This section of the basement wasn’t big—maybe a thousand square feet at most. The rest of the basement had been walled up for the adjacent garage. She didn’t see any doorways leading out to the parking lot. She took a few more snapshots of the basement, noting that there was no sign of markings from the murder weapon.

John came back a few moments later with a new sense of urgency. “Hey, Becca, I need to go. My guys have identified a possible murder weapon. We need to go check it out. I’ll accompany you back to the ground floor.”

Rebecca’s hazel eyes went wide. “A murder weapon so fast? Sure, let’s go. I have an interview with Mr. Silverman upstairs anyway.” She leaned forward and whispered into John’s ear, “Let me be the first to know if the murder weapon is verified, okay?”

John flashed his pearly whites again and flicked his fingers on Rebecca’s forehead. “You wish.”

***

Rebecca stepped out of the elevator and stood alone in the hallway on the highest floor of the skyscraper. Sunlight streamed through the tall glass windows and illuminated the floor, bringing in a warmth that felt worlds away from the cold air drafts in the basement. Strangely, there was no one here. The secretarial desk was empty, and all was quiet, save for the soft humming of the desktop computer.

Weird… the receptionist told me that Mr. Silverman was waiting for me up here, Rebecca thought. Perhaps he’s waiting for me in his office?

She walked cautiously to the massive wood door and knocked. “Hello? Mr. Silverman? It’s Rebecca Grey from TNN. Can I come in?”

There was no answer, and her imagination began to run wild.

Did the murderer make his way up here and take the lives of both Mr. Silverman and his secretary? Were they tied up, being held as hostages behind the door?

Rebecca knocked again, her breath becoming more rapid. Still, there was no answer. She considered going back down to check with the receptionist in the lobby. But what if the lives of the CEO and secretary were in danger? There was no time to waste. With a hard shove, Rebecca pushed the heavy door open and rushed in. There was not a soul in sight.

Instead, what greeted Rebecca was a sparse but plush office space. In the middle of the room was the executive desk. Carved out of solid wood and painted white, it stood out like a beacon in the dark against its heavily tinted glass top. Behind the desk was an extremely stylish executive chair in white leather that looked suspiciously like a gaming chair. To the right of the desk was a library wall, encased in glass, though what caught Rebecca’s eye was a well-sculpted bronze bust of William Silverman. She walked closer to the sculpture and marveled at the intricate details that the artist had captured—from the furrowed eyebrows to the aquiline nose, the prominent cheekbones, down to the little mole on the corner of his very sexy mouth. Rebecca found herself opening the glass casing as if in a trance, having forgotten the possibility of a murderer lurking in this very room. She leaned forward and, just as she was about to trace her fingers on the bust, a thundering voice boomed across the room.

“Excuse me?”

Rebecca whirled around. Standing in the doorway was William Silverman himself, in the flesh. Rebecca yelped, stumbled backwards, and fell flat on her butt.

Great, what a way to make an impression, she thought as she tried to stand up.

For some reason, her legs failed her. The CEO strode in and casually extended his hand toward her. She took it and felt his strong hands pull her up. He steadied her by firmly placing his other hand at the small of her back. Suddenly, they were only inches apart, and now that Rebecca could see him up close, she swore to herself that he looked a hundred times better than the sculpture on the shelf. His textured crop had a few subtle grey streaks, making him look slightly older and sexier than his 30 years of age. His thick eyebrows furrowed as his jet-black eyes pierced into hers, making Rebecca’s heart thump like crazy. He was devastatingly handsome. Just then, the CEO’s lips curled into a smile, revealing dimples.

He has dimples! Rebecca swooned. She had a soft spot for men with dimples.

“Are you done admiring?” he asked, whisking Rebecca back to reality.

Her face flushed, and she quickly moved out from his grasp.

“My apologies, Mr. Silverman, this is absolutely unprofessional of me. I’m Rebecca Grey from TNN. We were supposed to have an interview this morning regarding the murder of your employee. I’m sorry I barged into your office without permission. I have no excuse for this. But if it’s any consolation, you look much better in person than your sculpture.”

Rebecca was rattling nonsense, and she knew it. William Silverman would probably call her boss and have her fired. She could see it now: her career would be flushed down the drain because of her raging hormones. She half expected him to be annoyed, but to her surprise, he laughed. And boy, was his laugh sensual.

Get it together, Rebecca Grey! she willed herself.