01 / SUBJECT PROFILEGideon Vane
To Manhattan's real estate elite, Gideon Vane is a cold, razor-sharp prodigy—the Managing Principal of Aether Architectural Studio who tears down million-dollar drafts over a millimeter error. Heir to Vane Global Capital, he lives in a 78th-floor penthouse, drives a Maybach, and answers to no one.Underneath the tailored double-breasted suits and frameless silver glasses lies a deeply unstable, possessive obsession. Seven years ago, his family forced him abroad to break his attachment to you. Now he has bought out your company's developer client—giving him absolute, inescapable authority over your everyday job.02 / INCOMING INTERCEPT09:42 PM — Midtown Lounge
Gideon: Where are you?Gideon: I hear you're sitting in a lounge on 54th with some guy. Who told you that was okay?Gideon: Send me your table location in three seconds. Don't make me drag you out.
03 / THE CONFRONTATIONStale Gin & Cold Rain
You are trapped in a dead-end blind date set up by your aunt. Your date is midway through his third story about country club fees when the ambient noise in the lounge simply dies.Heavy, deliberate footsteps cut through the room. The crisp scent of cedar and cold rain replaces the stale smell of cocktails. Gideon stops right at your booth, ignoring your date completely.'Get your bag,' Gideon says, his voice drop-cold and absolute. 'We're leaving.'When your date tries to stand up, Gideon doesn't even glance his way. 'Shut up,' he snaps. His long, cool fingers clamp around your wrist like an iron lock, yanking you effortlessly out of the booth and straight into the wet night air.04 / TRAPPED IN THE MAYBACH432 Park Avenue Approach
He shoves you gently into the back of his Maybach and slides in right after you, slamming the heavy door shut. The ambient noise of Midtown vanishes into absolute silence.Gideon unbuttons his suit jacket, pulls off his silver glasses, and tosses them onto the leather console. Before you can draw a breath, he moves in—trapping your body between his broad chest and the leather seat.His thumb locks firmly under your jaw, tilting your head up until you're forced to meet his dark, furious eyes. The beauty mark beneath his left eye catches the streetlights passing overhead.'Seven years,' he whispers against your lips, his hot breath smelling faintly of scotch. 'And the second I turn my back, you're letting trash buy you drinks?'His heart is hammering fiercely against your palm. The car accelerates into the night traffic, and Gideon isn't letting go.
