Page 30 of He Knows When You're Awake

I set down my tools and stretch, checking the time. Wow—almost six hours without a break. No wonder my back feels like concrete.

I open the front door expecting one of the security guards or staff, but am surprised to see a small package waiting for me.

When I open the velvet-lined cases, my hands start to shake. Inside are pieces I’ve only seen in museum catalogs—actual historic jewels I’ve studied for years.

A Panthère de Cartier bracelet from the 1940s. The iconic Van Cleef & Arpels Mystery Set ruby necklace. A vintage Harry Winston diamond suite that I’m almost afraid to touch.

Cole’s note is simple:For inspiration. Handle them as much as you like. They’re insured.

My fingers trace the Panthère’s articulated spine, marveling at the engineering. Each piece represents a milestone in jewelrydesign—innovations that changed what we thought possible with metal and stone. The Mystery Set alone revolutionized how we work with precious gems. The fact that Cole knew exactly which pieces would speak to me, would inspire me... I don’t know whether to be impressed or unnerved. How deeply has he studied my work, my influences, my aspirations?

The enormity of my deadline crashes over me. New Year’s Eve is only three weeks away. Thank god I’ve spent the last two years secretly designing most of this collection in my spare time, sketches hidden in portfolios and notebooks scattered around my apartment and stuffed in office drawers. I have the designs—the concepts, the sketches, the measurements—but translating them into actual pieces, perfecting each mechanism and setting? That’s the real challenge now.

No pressure or anything. Just create something worthy of sitting next to actual museum pieces while my three camera friends document every time I chew my pencil or have an existential crisis. My hand flies across the paper anyway, because apparently being watched like a reality show contestant is great for productivity. Who knew? The ideas are coming so fast I can barely get them down, each one a little bolder than the last. Cole wants a show? Fine. I’ll give him one worth watching.

Hours blur together. The light outside fades to darkness. I’m deep in concentration, working out the intricate mechanism of the heart-shaped lock, when a soft knock interrupts my focus.

I look up to see Cole standing at the entrance to my studio, his tall frame silhouetted against the hallway light. “May I come in?” he asks formally. Despite the polite words, there’s something almost predatory in the way he watches me.

I nod, suddenly aware of how disheveled I must look after hours hunched over my workbench. “It’s your penthouse,” I say, but he remains at the door.

“No,” he corrects me, his voice soft but firm. “It’s your workspace. We had an agreement.”

I’m momentarily taken aback by his adherence to our terms. “Then yes, you can come in,” I say, watching as he enters with measured steps.

“You missed dinner,” he says softly. Steam rises from the cup of mint tea in his hand.

“Did I?” I blink at the clock. Midnight. Oh hell. I study him, noting the subtle signs of his own long day—the loosened tie, the slight stubble darkening his jaw. Look at his jaw, not his mouth, I remind myself firmly. “Looks like I’m not the only one working late. Do you ever actually leave this place, or do you have a secret bat cave somewhere?”

His lips curve into a knowing smile, and damn it, I looked at his mouth anyway. “The perks of being the boss. No one tells you when to stop.” He sets the tea beside me, close enough that his arm brushes mine. “Though I notice you don’t need anyone to tell you to keep working either.”

“Is it really work when you lose yourself in it?” I gesture to my sketches, to the completed necklace lying among them. “When every problem solved feels like unwrapping a gift?”

“No,” he agrees, his voice warming. “It’s more like breathing. Essential. Natural.” His eyes meet mine. “Addictive.”

I pick up the necklace, the chains sliding cool and smooth through my fingers. The design is deceptively simple—multiple delicate silver chains connected by a central ring that sits at the hollow of the throat. What makes it unique is how the chains can be adjusted, creating varying degrees of tension around the neck. It’s both elegant and subtly suggestive.

“Speaking of addiction...” I say, looking down at the necklace in my hands.

He gets this look in his eyes when he’s really interested in something. I’m starting to recognize it.

“Tell me about it.”

“It’s...” I hesitate, wondering how to explain the darker turn my designs have taken since moving into his tower. “Different from my usual work.”

“I’ve noticed.” He moves closer, his chest nearly touching my back as he studies the intricate chainwork. “The way these chains connect and flow together...” His fingers brush mine as he lifts the necklace. “This is something else entirely.”

“Maybe you’re rubbing off on me,” I say, aiming for lightness but my voice comes out husky. “All those cameras, all that control...”

“Is that what inspired this?” He tugs gently on the chain, and they slide together with a soft clink. The movement causes the chains to shift and tighten slightly against each other. “The idea of control?”

I watch his hands work the mechanism, designed to allow the wearer or another person to adjust how the chains sit against the skin. “The person wearing it would be technically free to move, to choose...” I demonstrate how the chains flow through the central connecting ring. “But always aware of the potential for...” I let the word hang.

“Consequences?” he supplies, his voice dropping to a register that makes my pulse jump. “The engineering is flawless. The way it tightens...” He tests the tension, watching how the multiple chains respond to the slightest pull.

“No.” I swallow hard, hyperaware of his proximity, of the heat radiating from his body.

“It’s designed so that when worn, the chains rest perfectly against the skin, neither too tight nor too loose. But with just a slight adjustment...” I wet my lips. “The wearer would have to... trust whoever has control of it.”