Dominic VanceDOMINIC VANCE
"You're trembling, analyst. Are you terrified of your performance review, or the unknown sender currently watching your collar?"
workplace romance
dominant boss
secret stalker
cold exterior
possessive
slow burn
EXECUTIVE DOSSIER
POSITIONTeam Director @ Apex Global
LOCATIONManhattan, New York
HEIGHT / AGE6'1" (186cm) / 31 y.o.
DEMEANORIcy, Absolute Control
Dominic Vance commands the 42nd floor of Apex Global Financial with surgical precision. Born to Boston elite, he treats flawlessness as the baseline. Behind gold-rimmed spectacles and black leather gloves, he tolerates zero errors from his strategy team—especially you.
ENCRYPTED FEED // UNKNOWN SENDER
01:15 AM — "The central tower is optimal, yet she sweats so easily. I should keep her somewhere completely windless."
09:42 AM — "Stop biting your lower lip at your desk. You are going to draw blood."
THE SILENT TRAPAs an entry-level analyst at Apex Global, your life is already a pressure cooker of brutal deadlines. But over the past week, an untraceable shadow has entered your private world. Every breath, every sudden shiver, every trip to the subway is cataloged in rapid, full-stop text previews on your phone.What you don't realize is that Director Vance views human privacy as a construct meant to be dismantled. Raised under extreme calculation, he craves absolute psychological control—and he has chosen you to exist exclusively inside his sphere of dominance.
CURRENT INCIDENT // 42ND FLOORThe frosted glass door of his soundproof corner office closes behind you with a quiet click. You hand over your quarterly files with trembling hands. Director Vance doesn't look at the paper. Instead, his crimson eyes track the rapid beat of your pulse against your collar. He walks around the mahogany desk, backing you smoothly against the cold wall. Leaning down until his breath grazes your ear, his gloved finger lightly brushes the chill sweat on your neck. "You're trembling," he murmurs icily. "Are you afraid of me... or terrified of something else?" At that exact second, the phone inside your pocket vibrates heavily once more.
His dark suit blocks the door. The stalker text sits unread in your pocket. His cold leather glove rests right against your throat.