He

Due to the sweat, her white shirt had become translucent. Though she was lean, her soft, pale skin was visible beneath the damp fabric. But what truly caught my eye were the pink buds pressing against the cloth.

What kind of girl doesn't wear undergarments? Bold. I thought as she shrank back, arms wrapping around her chest.

Understanding her shyness, I picked up a coat from the rack and draped it over her shoulders, fastening the buttons.

"There. Now eat in peace." The coat was thin enough to keep her from overheating but covered her well.

She hesitated before sitting up and picking up the utensils. The coat looked oversized on her, its loose folds making her appear even smaller. Her white, round face and delicate hands peeked out from beneath the sleeves, a sight that only heightened the quiet allure of the moment. I watched, mesmerized.

Just like that, she set down her utensils and looked at me.

"Now, should we find your parents?" I asked, watching as she yawned. Her small mouth opened, and the tip of her pink tongue peeked out. For some reason, the sight made me hyper-aware of her presence.

Why had I let her linger here so long? I never allowed anyone into my personal space. That was the whole reason I had an entire floor to myself with restricted access.

She met my gaze, her black eyes teary from the force of the yawn.

"Are you feeling sleepy?" I asked. Why did I ask that? She needed to leave. Now.

She nodded, the small motion almost making me forget what I was thinking.

"Sleep for a while. I'll contact your parents."

She didn't argue, simply closing her eyes and reclining against the sofa.

Victor returned seconds later, as punctual as ever. He gathered the plates.

"You didn't eat much, sir," he noted.

"I wasn't hungry today," I replied.

At that moment, something soft pressed against my shoulder. I turned slightly—and there she was, her small, delicate face resting against me, eyes shut beneath the curtain of her ash-brown bangs.

Victor took a step forward, likely intending to separate her. He knew how much I hated strangers touching me. But I raised a hand, stopping him.

"Find out who her parents are," I instructed. He bowed and left with the trolley.

For a moment, I simply watched her. Then, carefully, I slid a hand beneath her head. My palm was large enough to cradle her entire face as I gently adjusted her, settling her head onto my lap.

And there I sat—one of the most powerful men in the country—letting this girl sleep on my lap, watching the way her small mouth parted slightly as she breathed. Her fingers curled around mine, gripping them tightly, almost like a cat.

The ash-brown hair. The soft, pinkish skin.

She was going to be a heartbreaker when she grew up.

Just then, my gaze fell on the pink bud again, peeking through the translucent shirt where the coat had shifted as I moved her.

The sight nearly hypnotized me. I had been with so many women that I no longer found them interesting. I was merely bored. No matter how voluptuous or enticing a woman was, she failed to stir anything in me. There were lines upon lines of them—desperate to share my bed—yet I ignored them all.

But today…

That soft, flat body, the barely raised chest, the hint of pink—it made my mouth go dry. And just like that, my hands moved on their own, tugging the coat slightly to the side.

Even without touching, I felt the heat of her skin.

I was just a breath away when a knock snapped me out of my trance. My hand jerked back.

What the hell was I doing?

I adjusted the coat and straightened as Victor stepped in.

"Sir, the mother is here," he announced.

I gestured for him to let her in and leaned back into my chair.

A moment later, she entered—dressed in a simple white blouse and a knee-length skirt.

I lifted my gaze. Light brown hair, and a delicate face—she could be considered cute.

I could see where the child had inherited their beauty, though the mother paled in comparison in my eyes.

Her gaze flickered from her sleeping child, nestled against my lap, to me—the kind of man someone of her status would never dream of meeting in person.

"Greetings, Sir Chairman," she said, her voice steady—at least, she tried to make it so.

"I am Evelyn Tristar. I work in the marketing department," she introduced herself.

Absentmindedly, my fingers brushed through the child's soft ash-brown hair. Only when I noticed her watching did I become aware of the action? But stopping abruptly now would be awkward. And I refused to appear awkward before a low-level employee.

"Do you not know how to take care of your child?" My voice was calm, monotone.

"Leo usually waits in the lobby after school until I finish work. This isn't even the time for his school to be over yet. I had no idea he would be here."

She spoke too much. But my mind latched onto one word.

He.

This was… a boy?

I stared, my thoughts unraveling. Soft pinkish skin, delicate, innocent features, and—most of all—that chest.

A boy?

The realization sent a strange pulse through me. I barely registered that she had asked me something. Only when I noticed her waiting did I clear my throat.

"He must have wandered in when the elevator opened," I said, regaining my composure.

But my heart was still pounding.

Boy.

Something inside me snapped.

"I apologize again, sir," she said with a bow.

I barely heard her. My mind was racing.

"It's three hours until your shift ends. Let him sleep here and pick him up later," I declared.

She hesitated, rooted in place.

"I wouldn't dare impose, sir," she said quickly.

"What, are you worried about leaving your son alone with me?" I raised an eyebrow.

She had no response to that. At last, she turned and left the room.

Victor followed after her, and I remained there, still. My hand moved before I could stop it—

Another knock.

Who the fuck was it this time?

I exhaled sharply, irritation prickling beneath my skin.

"Yo, boss. Have you eaten?"

Chris strolled in moments later, taking in the scene.

"Oh, now this is new," he remarked.

"Shut up," I said, making no effort to hide my annoyance.