"IS THIS REALLY NECESSARY, Lucson?" Grayson asked, his voice muffled by the silk tie he was struggling to knot. "Must I endure another day of this?"
Lucson didn’t even look up from his tablet. He was sitting in the breakfast nook, perfectly still, like a gargoyle. "Boredom is your shield, Grayson. If Valerius sees you as a man preoccupied with quarterly projections and the quality of office espresso, he will stop looking for anything suspicious. One more day. Be dull. Be predictable. Be the CEO this world expects."
Mailah entered the kitchen, her heels clicking against the marble floor. She looked sharp in a charcoal blazer and a crisp white shirt, but her eyes held a spark of shared mischief when she looked at Grayson.
She walked over to him, gently batting his hands away from the tie that was currently losing its battle with his dignity.
"Here," she whispered, her fingers nimble as they looped the silk. "Think of it as a ritual."
Grayson looked down at her, his knitted brows softening.
The black void in his eyes didn’t flare; instead, it settled into a warm, molten gray. "I would prefer a real battle. At least in a war, the enemies don’t ask you to ’circle back’ on an email."
"Complaining about emails is the most human thing you’ve ever done," Mailah teased, smoothing his lapels. "You’re doing great."
Grayson grabbed the leather office bag from the counter with a flick of his wrist.
It looked heavy, though today it was packed with actual spreadsheets—Lucson was a stickler for detail.
If a spy looked inside, they would see nothing but data on urban zoning and comrcial real estate.
"Let’s get this over with," Grayson said. "I have a sudden, inexplicable craving for a donut and a very long nap."
The drive into the city was, if possible, even more soul-crushing than the previous day.
Grayson sat behind the wheel, his jaw tight as they crawled through a sea of brake lights.
"Why do they do it?" Grayson asked, gesturing vaguely at the thousands of cars surrounding them. "Every day. The sa road. The sa speed. It is a purgatory of their own making."
"It’s a community, Grayson," Mailah said, leaning her head back against the leather seat. "A very slow, very annoyed community."
"It is a tragedy," Grayson corrected. "If I were to use just a fraction of the Ember’s heat, I could clear this path in—"
"Grayson," Mailah warned softly.
He exhaled, his hands relaxing on the steering wheel. "I know. Routine. Boredom. I am a man who enjoys the morning traffic report. I am a man who worries about his gas mileage."
When they arrived at the tower, the atmosphere was thick with corporate energy.
Jas was already in the lobby, dressed in a vibrant yellow sweater that seed to radiate a level of optimism that Grayson found offensive.
"There they are! The power couple!" Jas shouted, drawing several curious looks from passing interns. He slid into step beside them as they headed for the elevator. "Gray, buddy, you look like you actually slept. Or you finally fired that guy in accounting. Either way, love the vibe."
"Jas," Grayson said, nodding stiffly. "What is on the agenda?"
"Oh, you’re going to love it," Jas said, oblivious to the fact that ’love’ was the last word on Grayson’s mind. "We have the final review of the Plaza project, a surprise HR birthday cake in the breakroom for Susan—don’t forget to smile, it scares her when you don’t—and then a deep-dive into the new security protocols."
Grayson’s grip on the leather bag tightened for a split second. "Security?"
"Standard stuff," Jas waved a hand. "Soone’s been leaving the back service door propped open for their vape breaks. Nothing interesting. Just boring, everyday safety."
Grayson glanced at Mailah.
Boring and everyday. It was exactly what they needed.
The morning was a blur of etings that Grayson navigated with a level of focused apathy that was truly impressive.
He sat at the head of the conference table. He didn’t check his phone. He didn’t look out the window for crows. He simply stared at the holographic blueprints until the architects began to sweat.
"I find the... structural integrity of this beam... questionable," Grayson said at one point, his voice a low rumble.
"It’s standard, Mr. Ashford!" the lead architect squeaked.
"Standard is another word for lazy," Grayson replied.
Mailah, sitting behind him with a notepad, had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.
He was actually good at this. His natural arrogance was the perfect cover for a high-powered CEO.
When the eting finally broke, Jas dragged the architects away for more "alignnt," leaving Grayson and Mailah alone in his massive office.
Grayson imdiately dropped the act, tossing his coat onto the side table and undoing the top button of his shirt.
"I need a distraction," he said, turning to Mailah.
She walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out at the city skyline. "We’re almost there, Grayson. Just a few more hours and the routine is finished. Lucson says the path is clear for tomorrow."
Grayson didn’t stay behind his desk. He walked toward her, his footsteps silent on the plush carpet. When he reached her, he didn’t stop until she was pressed between him and the cool glass of the window.
"I am not thinking about Lucson," Grayson whispered.
He leaned down, his breath warm against the shell of her ear.
The "boring" office world faded away. The hum of the air conditioning, the distant ring of a telephone, the digital glow of the computer—it all beca background noise.
Mailah turned in his arms, her hands coming up to rest on his chest. She could feel his heart beating—steady, strong, and definitely not human. "Grayson, we’re at work. Jas could walk in at any—"
"I don’t care," Grayson muttered, his lips grazing her jawline.
He kissed her then, a slow, simring heat that made Mailah’s knees go weak.
This was confident, possessive, and lingering. It was the kiss of a man who knew he was being hunted but refused to let it ruin his appetite.
Mailah pulled him closer, her fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. For a mont, she forgot about Valerius. Or Caspian.
She forgot about the Ember Sigil. She only felt the solid, overwhelming presence of the man who had turned her world upside down.
A sharp knock at the door made them jump apart. Or only her jumped away from him?
"Gray? Mailah? Susan is cutting the cake!" Jas’s voice muffled through the heavy oak door. "It’s lemon sponge! It’s a favorite!"
Grayson closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against Mailah’s. "Lemon sponge," he whispered. "The universe is mocking ."
Mailah giggled, smoothing her hair. "Go eat the cake, Grayson. It’s part of the job."
The afternoon took a turn for the clinical and the tense. They were back in the office, the leather bag sitting innocently by the side of Grayson’s desk, when Jas walked in with a woman Mailah didn’t recognize.
She was wearing a navy suit that was a shade too sharp, and a heavy security badge clipped to her belt.
She carried a tablet and a small, handheld scanner.
"Gray, sorry to bug you, buddy, but this is Sarah from Internal Audit and Compliance," Jas said, looking slightly embarrassed. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Standard procedure for any executive returning from an extended dical leave. The board wants a quick ’Asset Verification Sweep’ of all high-level offices. Just to make sure no proprietary hardware or confidential physical files were... uh... left unsecured during your absence."
Mailah felt a jolt of ice water hit her stomach.
The bag.
Grayson didn’t blink.
He leaned back in his leather chair, tapping a fountain pen against the blotter with a rhythmic, hypnotic tack-tack-tack. "An audit? Now? I have a rger review in twenty minutes, Jas."
"It takes five minutes, Mr. Ashford," Sarah said, her voice like a flatline. She didn’t wait for permission.
She began scanning the barcodes on the underside of his monitors and checking the serial numbers on the safe in the corner. "We just need to log and verify every piece of company property currently in the executive suite."
She moved toward the mahogany side table. Her eyes locked onto the leather office bag.
"Is this yours, or company-issued?" Sarah asked, her hand reaching out for the handle.
Mailah’s breath hitched in her throat.
She saw Grayson’s hand tighten on the arm of his chair until his knuckles turned white.
They need that bag or everything will be ruined.
"That bag is personal," Grayson said, his voice dropping into a register that made the hair on the back of Mailah’s neck stand up.
"I understand that, sir," Sarah said, her voice devoid of emotion. "However, according to the updated Security Protocol 4-B, all unverified bags in the executive wing must be taken to the secure processing center for a digital and physical screening during an audit. You’ll have it back by the end of the day."
She gripped the handle. She started to lift it.
"Leave it," Grayson commanded.
He stood up.
He didn’t move toward her, but the air in the room suddenly felt heavy, as if the atmospheric pressure had tripled in a heartbeat. The temperature plumted.
Mailah watched, horrified, as a thin, delicate lace of frost began to creep across the petals of the white orchid on the desk.
"Mr. Ashford, I am just doing my job—"
"Your job is to audit company property," Grayson said, his eyes flashing with a cold, ancient light that Sarah couldn’t possibly understand, but certainly felt. "That bag is not company property. It is mine. And it does not leave this room."
Jas laughed nervously, stepping between them. "Whoa, okay! A bit of a ’hostile takeover’ vibe happening here. Sarah, maybe we can just... skip the bag? I’ll sign off on it. I’ve seen him carry that thing for years."
"Jas," Grayson said, his gaze never leaving Sarah’s pale face. "Take the auditor to the breakroom. I believe Susan is still handing out cake. If she needs to audit sothing, she can audit the sugar content of that sponge."
"Gray, buddy, she’s just—"
"Now," Grayson said.
The word didn’t just vibrate in the air; it felt like a physical blow. It was the voice of a price, a commander of legions who had ruled for eons.
Sarah flinched, her hand dropping from the leather handle as if it had burned her.
Even Jas looked unsettled, his usual "golden boy" grin faltering as he realized he was looking at a man he didn’t truly know.
"Okay, okay! ssage received," Jas said, quickly putting a hand on Sarah’s arm and steering her toward the door. "We’ll... uh... we’ll circle back to the ’Personal Property’ section later. Let’s go get so lemon sponge before the interns inhale the whole thing."
As the heavy oak door clicked shut, Grayson exhaled.
The crushing pressure in the room vanished, and the frost on the orchid instantly turned to dew, dripping onto the desk.
"That was too close," Mailah whispered, rushing over to the bag. She reached out to touch the leather.
"It was," Grayson said, his eyes still dark and turbulent.
He walked over to the bag, staring down at it with a strange expression—not of worry, but of calculation. "But they are getting bold. Whether that was a real audit or a puppet move by Valerius to see how I’d react, the window is closing."
He gripped the handle, his jaw set. "We are leaving. Now."
They didn’t wait for the official end of the business day.
Grayson grabbed the bag, buzzed Jas to tell him a "migraine" had struck, and led Mailah toward the private executive elevator.
As they crossed the marble lobby, Mailah felt the weight of a thousand eyes.
It wasn’t just the crows anymore.
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