Chapter 162: Chapter 162: First day (2)
The car glided away from the manor on silent shocks, windows tinted against the early-morning glare. Inside it smelled faintly of leather, coffee, and Victor. A tray between the seats held two croissants and a thermos, but Elias ignored it for now; the tablet balanced on his knees was heavier than it looked.
He flicked through the files Victor had dumped into his inbox overnight. The first was the project he’d been living with for months, now neatly repackaged with Numen Corp branding and a full budget. Two more folders blinked beneath it: new research proposals, one flagged priority, the other confidential. Victor’s idea of a gentle introduction.
Elias’s eyelids still felt like sandpaper. He scrolled, lips moving soundlessly over the acronyms, and wondered whether it would be physically possible to roll down the window and tumble out onto the verge without breaking every bone in his body. Anything to get back to the warm bed and his forgotten mug of coffee.
Victor, perfectly composed in his burgundy suit, sat across from him with a mug in one hand, watching. The glow from the tablet lit the sharp angles of Elias’s face, his open collar, and the way his fingers still trembled a little around the stylus. Victor’s mouth curved, a look of quiet satisfaction and something softer flickering there.
"You’re reading already," he said.
"I’m awake enough to regret my life choices," Elias muttered, scrolling to the next page. "That’s not the same thing."
Victor chuckled, unbothered. "You’ll wake up once you start arguing with my engineers."
"I’d rather nap," Elias said flatly, rubbing his temple. "Or die."
"Neither is on today’s agenda," Victor murmured, leaning back in his seat with his coffee. "But you being here is."
Elias glanced up from the tablet, deadpan. "You really don’t believe in easing people in, do you?"
Victor’s crimson eyes glinted over the rim of his mug. "Not you," he said simply. "You’re mine. You can handle it."
Elias huffed, dragging a croissant onto his lap as if it were a shield. "God help me," he muttered. Then looked up at the god in front of him. "Or maybe don’t."
—
The city rose up around them, glass towers catching the pale morning light. By the time the car slid into Numen Corp’s private underground entrance, Elias had polished off one croissant and half a coffee and was still scrolling through the files with the slow, grim patience of a condemned man.
Victor set his mug aside and straightened his cuffs, the shift from private to public effortless. "We’re here," he said, as though Elias couldn’t feel the car slowing.
The door opened to a polished corridor lined with muted security cameras and brushed steel. Ashwin and Robert fell in immediately behind them, two shadows in dark suits, earpieces glowing faint blue. Elias gave them a sidelong look as he stepped out, tablet tucked under one arm.
"Do I want to know why you need two walking fortresses for a trip to your own building?" he asked, his voice low enough that only Victor could hear. "Pretty sure you could break everyone here in half before they blink."
Victor didn’t slow his stride, one hand at the small of Elias’s back as they crossed the private elevator lobby. "They’re for the building," he murmured. "Not for me."
Elias’s brows went up. "That makes zero sense."
"It makes perfect sense," Victor said, eyes forward. "I’m strong enough to kill anyone. They’re strong enough to make sure I don’t have to. And being attacked here..." his smile turned thin, "is a perfect excuse for things to get... altered. No fate touched, no questions asked. You understand."
Elias tightened his grip on the tablet. "I was joking," he muttered. "You didn’t have to make it sound like a marketing pitch for divine retribution."
Victor’s hand brushed the back of his neck, briefly but grounding. "You’ll get used to it," he said softly.
The elevator opened on a lobby that looked more like a hotel atrium than a corporate floor. Polished marble gleamed underfoot, and a double-height ceiling soared above a bank of glass. Warm light spilled over sculptural planters, dark wood reception desks, and a silent waterfall that ran down one wall. The company’s logo glinted like cut steel above it all.
Every head turned when Victor stepped out.
Keyboards kept clacking, phones kept ringing, but the hush was unmistakable. Six months ago they’d whispered that the youngest heir of the Numen family might never walk again; two months ago they’d whispered he’d turned up at a board dinner under his own power. Now he was striding across the lobby in a burgundy suit, a pale-clad man at his side, thumb idly brushing the back of that man’s neck as though the whole building belonged to them.
So that was the mate, then. The one from the rumors.
Elias felt the weight of the stares without looking directly at anyone. The marble floor underfoot was too slick, the ceilings too high, and the smell of coffee and expensive carpet too clean. A god’s corporate throne room, he thought again, tightening his grip on the tablet. And I’m the prop.
At the reception desk, Connor was leaning one elbow on the counter, charming the receptionist with the kind of smile that always looked like both a joke and a dare. He glanced up at the sound of the elevator and his expression shifted, amusement first, then the glint of someone seeing a story unfold in real time.
"Well, well," he drawled, straightening as Victor and Elias approached. "You weren’t kidding about ’bring your mate to work day.’"
Elias blinked at him, half-recognition surfacing through the fog of caffeine. "Connor, what a delight to see you here," he said flatly.
Connor’s smile sharpened, delighted at the lack of enthusiasm. "Still a morning person, I see," he said, flicking an invisible speck of dust from his cuff. "You know, most people would be star-struck walking in here for the first time. You look like you’re about to throw yourself out a window."
"That’s because I am," Elias replied, shifting the tablet under his arm. "Victor forgot to mention the part where this job comes with an audience."
Connor gave an exaggerated sigh and spread his hands. "You’re ruining my narrative. I’ve been telling the staff all week that you’re a mysterious genius flown in to save us."
Victor cut across him without breaking stride, one hand still at the small of Elias’s back. "Enough, Connor. My schedule’s already late."
"Fine, fine," Connor said, falling into step behind them, still smirking. "But you can’t blame me for wanting to greet Elias on his first day."
"Spare me," Elias muttered, already veering toward Victor’s office. It was only his second time in the suite, but the memory of the first had been vivid enough to stick. He felt his flair for drama kicking in as he braced himself for another round in the god’s den.