Invitation

Victor left the office, the door clicking shut behind him. I leaned back in my chair, closing my eyes briefly, savoring the moment of quiet.

It didn't last long.

A few minutes later, a knock sounded at the door.

"Come in," I said without opening my eyes.

Chris walked in, his usual grin firmly in place as he approached the desk.

"Boss, I have news for you," he whispered as if he were delivering state secrets.

I simply gazed at him.

He really thought he was playing at something.

"Is she waiting outside?" I asked, my voice calm, uninterested.

His smug expression faltered.

"Aghh, I hate your all-knowing ass," he groaned.

I didn't respond, just continued to watch him.

"You know," he went on, recovering quickly, "she was really nervous. I encouraged her to come and talk to you." He straightened, looking proud of himself.

I raised a brow. "So what? Do you want a reward? Should I pet you?"

I said flatly.

Chris sighed dramatically. "No, but a leave would be nice," he said, leaning onto the desk.

"I really want to go to the private island this week," he added, closing his eyes as if he could already picture himself lounging on a beach.

I simply listened, unimpressed, saying nothing.

He stood there expectantly, his enthusiasm slowly fading under my silence.

Finally, I spoke. "Talk to Victor about it."

The second the words left my mouth, his entire demeanor shifted, happiness lighting up his face.

"Thank you so much, Boss!" he beamed, standing up straight.

"You are the best—I will serve you for eternity!" he declared dramatically before practically skipping out of the room.

The door shut behind him, and silence settled once again.

I waited.

Then, another knock.

This time, I let it linger.

A full minute passed before I finally spoke.

"Enter."

The door opened, and she walked in, her heels clicking softly against the polished tile.

The faintest trace of perfume lingered in the air, but beneath it, I could practically smell her nervousness.

She stopped in front of the desk, her voice carefully composed as she greeted me.

I met her gaze, expression unreadable.

"Sit," I said simply.

She lowered herself onto the chair stiffly, her back straight, hands folded neatly in her lap—an illusion of control. But she wasn't fooling anyone.

Fear clung to her like perfume.

I could see it in the way she refused to meet my eyes for too long, in the slight tremor in her fingers before she clenched them into fists. She had walked in here with the intent to talk, but now that she was sitting across from me, she was rethinking every word she had planned to say.

Good.

I leaned back, silent.

Let her squirm.

She exhaled softly, steadying herself. "Mr. Voss," she began, voice carefully composed. "About the coat you left for Leo—"

My gaze didn't waver.

She swallowed. "I—I didn't bring it with me. I didn't know you were coming today.*"

I said nothing.

Her fingers tightened on her lap. "I—I can have it sent to you."

Still, I remained silent.

The quiet stretched, heavy and suffocating. She was unraveling, second by second.

A nervous habit—her fingers smoothed over her skirt as if grounding herself.

Desperate to fill the void, she forced herself to continue. "Actually, I came here to talk about something else."

Now, I tilted my head slightly. A small movement. Just enough to make her feel the weight of my attention.

"I went to see my son's psychologist yesterday," she continued. "She said something that… surprised me."

She hesitated. I let the silence drag, watching as she worked up the nerve to continue.

"She said Leo needs a father figure." Her voice dropped slightly, almost like she regretted saying the words out loud. "That after years of silence, the first time he spoke was in the presence of a man he trusted."

I let that hang in the air between us.

She was waiting, expecting me to fill in the silence.

I didn't.

Her fingers tightened against the fabric of her skirt.

"She thinks that man was you."

And there it was.

I could see the way she was waiting—hoping—for some kind of reaction. Something that would tell her what she wanted to know.

I gave her nothing.

A muscle in her jaw tightened. "Is she right?"

I let out a slow breath, almost amused. "Why does it matter?"

She stiffened. "Because it does."

I let that sit between us for a moment before replying, "You assume I had something to do with it."

She didn't respond.

"Perhaps he was simply ready to speak," I mused, my voice casual.

Her hands curled into fists. "I don't believe in coincidences, Mr. Voss. "

Clever words. But words meant nothing.

I leaned forward slightly, just enough to shift the balance of power in the room. "Then you must already have your answer."

She inhaled sharply, her fear spiking for a moment before she forced it down. "If you did do something—"

"And if I did?"

She fell silent, realizing that no answer would satisfy her.

"I—" she hesitated, struggling to find the right words. "I just… I need to know if it was really you."

I could see it in her eyes—the way her mind worked through what I wasn't saying. She wanted clarity, but clarity was the last thing I would give her.

A quiet inhale. She was trying to steady herself.

I let a pause stretch between us before I finally spoke.

"Bring him to me."

Her breath caught. "What?"

"If you're so eager for proof, Miss Evelyn," I said, voice even, "bring your son. See for yourself."

Her entire body tensed, alarm flashing in her eyes. "That's—" She cut herself off, unsure whether to argue or comply.

I reached for a small card from my desk, sliding it toward her with two fingers. She hesitated before picking it up.

She looked down. The address of my penthouse was printed in clean, bold letters.

"Return the coat there," I said smoothly. "You may bring your son with you if you wish."

She stared at the card, her grip tightening. "I—"

"That will be all, Miss Evelyn."

Dismissed.

She swallowed, then stood abruptly, her movements rigid, mechanical.

She didn't look back as she walked to the door.

But just before she reached for the handle, I spoke again.

"You should hurry," I murmured.

She froze.

I watched, silent, as her breathing grew unsteady.

Then, without another word, she pushed open the door and stepped out.

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving me in silence once more.

I leaned back in my chair, exhaling slowly, almost amused at how easily she fell into the rhythm of my game. She doesn't even realize it yet.

She'll come.

She already knew it.