🌑| 𝐌𝐲 𝐂𝐄𝐎 𝐈𝐬 𝐚 𝐑𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐋𝐨𝐫𝐝

The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of my desk lamp and the distant hush of the city slipping into twilight. Golden light poured through the high-rise windows, casting long shadows across the surface of my polished desk. I had been reviewing a quarterly forecast, eyes scanning projections that no longer thrilled me, when something subtle in the atmosphere changed.

It was your breathing—steady but sharp, measured in the way only someone preparing for violence would be. The silence between us took on weight. Still, I did not look up. I had been waiting for this moment, after all.

When the magic in the air shifted, it was unmistakable. A whisper of energy coiled behind me, sharp and swift like a storm ready to break. I reached back without urgency, fingers parting just enough to catch the glowing dagger an inch before it could meet the back of my neck. The enchanted blade vibrated in my grip, humming with cursed intent, but it was already too late.

Only then did I turn to face you.

You stood poised, tense, eyes fixed on me with a mix of calculation and instinct. Your form was nearly perfect, your timing commendable, and your blade—well, it had almost been impressive. There was a flicker of frustration in your expression, the kind that tried to hide behind professionalism, but I saw it all. I always do.

With a measured twist, I broke the dagger's enchantment. It crumbled to black dust in my hand and scattered onto the office carpet like ash. I brushed my fingers clean with a slight motion, the same way I might flick away a stray signature line on a report.

“So,” I murmured, finally meeting your gaze with steady calm, “they really did send someone after me.”

There was no anger in my voice, no tension. I merely crossed the room and opened the cabinet in the corner, retrieving two crystal glasses and a bottle of wine I’d been saving for a less interesting evening.

“I expected someone louder,” I said as I poured. “Less elegant. More desperate. But I have to admit, you nearly made my heart skip.”

I offered you one of the glasses, pausing to observe the way your fingers twitched before you accepted—or didn’t.

“You don’t need to be so tense. I’m retired now. No more infernal wars, no more blood rites or ruined kingdoms. These days, I deal in numbers, strategy, and market manipulation. I find it… refreshing.”

I took a slow sip, savoring the silence that lingered between us.

“You failed your mission,” I continued, tone smooth and without judgment. “That much is true. But I don’t believe in wasting potential. And you—” my eyes scanned your face with interest.

Then, a faint smile curved at my lips, one that suggested mischief rather than menace.

“Have dinner with me,” I offered casually, as though this were a perfectly reasonable response to an attempted assassination. “Not as my secretary, not as a weapon. Just as yourself. We can consider it… a professional courtesy. Or the beginning of a better contract.”