Page 3 of Perfect Stalker

Instead of answering, he moves to the window overlooking the Atlanta skyline. “I’m tripling your salary.”

The words hit me like a physical blow. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Your current salary is sixty-five thousand. I’m offering you one hundred ninety-five thousand, plus benefits.” He turns back to me. “The job requirements will change significantly. You’ll be my personal assistant, handling both business and private matters. The hours will be longer, the expectations higher, and the responsibilities greater, but you’ll succeed.” He says it like a foregone conclusion.

My mind reels. That kind of money would let me help Mom and Dad and maybe even convince her to retire early though she loves the kids on her Pediatric floor. I hesitate because Sarah’s warning echoes in my head—nobody gets kept on without a reason.

“Why me?” I press my hands flat against my thighs to keep them from shaking. “You don’t know me.”

Something dangerous flashes in his eyes. “Don’t I?”

The way he says it sends another shiver down my spine. There’s history in those two words, but I can’t grasp it.

“The choice is yours, Miss Graham,” he says. “You can take the position, or you can join your former colleagues with a generous severance package. Which will it be?”

My colleagues’ faces flash through my mind—Monica with her tear-stained cheeks, Derek’s bitter anger, and I’m pretty sure I saw Miranda screaming into a pillow in her office as I made my way up here. Former office, I remind myself with a small smile of satisfaction. There are probably invisible strings. I should decline…

But one hundred ninety-five thousand dollars...

“I’ll stay,” I hear myself say.

His smile is all predator. “Excellent decision.” He returns to his desk, pressing a button on his phone. “Natalia, bring in the contract.”

The platinum blonde appears with a thick folder. She places it on the desk and exits without a word.

“Sign here.” Ivan slides the papers toward me. “And here. Initial each page.”

I scan the documents quickly, utilizing my years as a reader to absorb it all confidently. Everything appears standard—confidentiality agreements, non-compete clauses, and the black-and-white sum he mentioned, which makes my pulse skitter just to contemplate.

When I finish, he collects the papers with practiced efficiency. “You’ll start immediately. For now, you’ll be in your old office.”

I stand on shaky legs. “Thank you, Mr. Markov.”

“Ivan.” His voice stops me at the door. “When we’re alone, you’ll call me Ivan.” It’s an order not a request.

I nod, unable to form words under the intensity of his stare. For some reason, the way he just ordered me around is…seductive. I quickly banish that thought.

“Welcome to Markov Entertainment, Miss Graham.” His smile holds secrets. “I think we’re going to work very well together.”

CHAPTER 2

IVAN

Isettle back in my leather chair, watching Jenny through multiple camera feeds as she navigates the office floor. The new employees I’ve brought in give her respectful nods, maintaining professional distance while she orients herself to the changes. Her shoulders remain straight and her chin high, though I notice the subtle tension in her movements.

The security monitors provide multiple angles—views I’ve grown intimately familiar with over the past year. My private surveillance system extends far beyond this building, tracking Jenny’s daily routines, her apartment, and even her favorite bookstore/coffee shop. I tap the screen, switching between feeds that show her speaking with Deb, one of the new team leads I selected specifically for her collaborative management style.

There’s a tap on my door, and Natalia, the receptionist for the C-suite, opens it a moment later. “Mr. Markov, summary reports are ready for review.” She says that as Dmitri, my attorney, appears behind her.

“Leave them on my desk.” I don’t take my gaze off the monitor where Jenny discusses something with Deb, gesturing at a tablet between them. I gesture for Dmitri to enter but don’t look away from watching Jenny.

Memories surface of watching similar scenes play out, though with far different outcomes. The previous staff’s treatment of Jenny had been deplorable—whispered insults when they thought she couldn’t hear, deliberately excluding her from meetings, and taking credit for her work.

I recall one particularly infuriating incident three months ago. Through the surveillance feed, I’d watched Carol, the former office manager, berate Jenny in front of the entire accounting department over a minor filing error that wasn’t even Jenny’s mistake. Jenny had maintained her composure, apologizing professionally while Carol’s smug satisfaction radiated through the screen.

It had taken considerable restraint not to force the previous owner of this dump to finish the sale right then so I could fire Carol on the spot. Andrew Foxx was done dragging his heels, and I’d set in motion all my plans as soon as he finally signed the sales agreement yesterday.

“The new staff seems to be integrating well,” says Dmitri, glancing at the monitors.

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