Thorns

I left the office and walked toward the elevator as the day faded into darkness.

"Are we heading to the penthouse, sir?" Victor asked as we stepped inside.

I didn't answer immediately.

The numbers on the screen flickered, counting down toward a single digit.

"To the garden," I said simply as the lift doors slid open to the underground parking. Without another word, I stepped out.

Cars lined both sides of the dimly lit parking lot, their polished surfaces reflecting the cold overhead lights. Tyler was already waiting. The moment he saw me, he stepped forward and opened the door to a sleek black Mercedes.

I slid inside. Victor took his place in the front, while Tyler settled into the driver's seat.

The car pulled out of the building, swallowed by the night as it merged onto the road.

After some time, the road forked into a smaller path, leading us away from the city's hustle and bustle. The car moved smoothly through the darkness until we arrived in front of a pair of towering gates.

As we approached, the gates swung open, and the car glided inside, following a stone path that wound through vast fields of greenery. Flowers stretched as far as the eye could see, illuminated faintly by the soft glow of scattered garden lights. Finally, we pulled up in front of a wood-colored mansion, standing tall and quiet against the night.

Victor stepped out first, opening the door for me as I exited. Without a word, Tyler drove the car away to park it.

I lifted my gaze to the wood-paneled doors just as they opened.

"Welcome, sir," a woman greeted me as she stepped out. Middle-aged but undeniably graceful, her presence was striking.

I looked at her briefly before walking inside.

"Where is my grandfather?" I inquired as she followed behind me.

"He is resting in his room. He just took his medicine and needed to lie down for a while," she explained.

A pause.

"I would have made proper arrangements had you informed me of this visit," she added—then suddenly froze, realizing the mistake in her words.

I kept walking, offering no reaction, but Victor gave her a clear, measured look before following me.

She understood immediately. She had overstepped. Adrian Voss does not report to anyone. Certainly not to his employees.

"I will be in the study," I said before ascending the stairs and stepping into the familiar room.

Victor followed. "Would you like to freshen up first, sir?"

"I'll just be here."

Dismissing him with a glance, I sank onto the sofa, leaned back, and closed my eyes.

"Thank you, sir."

A voice—soft, almost a whisper—echoed in my ears. My eyes flew open.

But I didn't move. I didn't react.

It had been like this since that day.

The words rang in my head. His face, his body—they filled my nights.

Sleep had become distant, replaced by something else.

A need.

A need for him.

I could still feel his skin beneath my fingers, see his hazy dark eyes as he woke from sleep, hear those three words, feel his breath against my—

I exhaled slowly, fingers flexing against my thigh.

It was all I could think about.

That was why I had accelerated the plan. I had intended to take my time, to be patient, to let things unfold naturally. But patience was a luxury I no longer had.

Instead, I had invited her to my home.

Here, I would weave a web so intricate, so seamless, that she would walk into it willingly. She and her son would belong to me before she even realized it.

I shifted, adjusting my pants as I closed my eyes again.

Soon. Soon enough.

A knock on the door.

"Sir, he's awake now," Victor announced.

"He should be in the garden?" I asked, already rising as I opened the door.

Without waiting for his reply, I walked down the stairs and through the back door, stepping into the sprawling gardens behind the mansion.

He stood there, staring at a tree, his posture relaxed yet contemplative.

"Greetings, Grandfather," I said as I approached.

"How have you been?" he asked without looking at me.

"I'm fine," I replied.

"So, the news of my hospital visit reached you." His tone was nonchalant, but I could hear the quiet amusement beneath it.

I simply hummed in response.

"I suppose Adrian Voss really is ever-present, as they say," he mused, finally turning to face me. His warm gray eyes held the same question they had for the past few years.

"So… are you here to finally relieve me of my worries?" he asked.

There were deep lines on his face, his gray hair combed back with precision. But instead of making him look frail or aged, they only made him seem wiser—steadier.

"Maybe you should've focused more on your health," I remarked.

"What can I do, son?" He exhaled as he stepped forward, walking toward the center of the garden, where roses bloomed in a sea of red.

"Obsession runs in our blood," he added simply.

For the first time, I felt the full weight of his words.

"Well, you can rest easy now," I replied.

"Really?" His brow lifted.

"Have I ever lied to you?" I countered, reaching out to touch a rose, feeling the delicate softness of its petals beneath my fingertips. Something about the sensation felt… reminiscent.

"Careful. Roses hold the sharpest thorns," he warned, watching me closely, as if studying my expression for any sign of deception.

"All the flowers in this garden are bred to be thornless and poison-free," I said as I plucked a rose and brought it to my nose.

I met his gaze. Unwavering. Absolute.

"I don't make mistakes, Grandfather."

A pause.

Then, he smiled—a genuine one, reflected in the warmth of his gray eyes.

"Yes, yes," he murmured, as if he had already known what I would say.

But the next words that left his lips made me sigh.

"Just get married already, and I can die happy."

"Your statement does a disservice to the entire Voss Health Department I built," I responded, tucking the rose into my pocket. "I own the best hospitals in the country. I can keep you alive and healthy for a long time."

"Well, who knows when our time will come?" he shrugged.

Then, with an amused glint in his eye, he asked, "So, when are you bringing her home?"

I let out a slow breath, ignoring the way my thoughts drifted to he- him.

"I'm not getting married tomorrow. I'll bring her when the time is right."

I looked up as I saw the caretaker approaching us.

"Sir, dinner is ready," she said with a bow.

I dismissed her with a nod, and she left.

"How is Vera serving you?" I asked.

My grandfather glanced at her retreating figure. "She does her work well."

I studied his face. "No, I do not sleep with her," he said, chuckling at my unspoken question. "I'm simply not interested in physical pleasure at this point in my life."

I smirked. "Well, keeping one's bed warm never hurt anyone."

He shook his head. "I like it cold."

With that, he turned and walked toward the house.

I followed, and as we stepped inside, Victor—who had been waiting patiently—fell in step behind me.