Grayson stared at the holographic display hovering above his desk, the quarterly projections blurring into meaningless numbers. His mind had wandered three times in the past ten minutes. This would’ve been impossible a month ago.

"Sir." Bryan Stewart called out as he stood in the doorway.

He had that smile plastered across his face again.

"I’ll need to step outside by midday." Bryan Stewart said, informing him.

Grayson’s fingers stopped and asked, "Why?"

"The company needs to take responsibility for Hope’s situation." Bryan Stewart crossed his arms, leaning against the desk with ease.

"A formal visit is required. Plus, I need clarification on some of the files he sent over. The encryption he used on some of them—" He shook his head. "—I can’t figure out half of what he did. It’s great to have a young one smart enough to clear the backlogs."

The mention of Neville’s name made Grayson pay attention to him.

He straightened in his chair and announced. "I’ll go personally."

Bryan Stewart’s eyebrow twitched upward.

"Sir? That’s not necessary. I can handle—"

"Food."

The single word hung in the air between them.

Bryan Stewart’s eyes widened, then it lit up, "Wait—are you sure he would cook? If so, can I come too? I’ve been missing—"

"You’re filling in for me."

"But sir—"

Grayson let his gaze drift toward Bryan Stewart. The unspoken threat about month-end bonuses didn’t even need to be voiced out.

Bryan Stewart’s shoulders slumped. He grumbled something unintelligible under his breath, but Grayson had already returned his attention to the screen, effectively dismissing him.

The door closed with a soft hiss.

...

The next thing he knew, he was already in front of the door of dorm number 4410.

Grayson straightened his collar as his hand hovered over the door chime.

This was a ridiculous situation. But there was nothing wrong with his boss visiting an employee. Just—

The door slid open before he realized what he had done.

Neville stood there, blinking his beautiful ocean-blue eyes at him. Grayson felt his reasoning evaporate like water on hot steel.

This omega really had no awareness. No matter how much he gave a hint, he never realized what was wrong. But this was another level of a frustrating situation.

Neville stood there wearing a white t-shirt that clung to his skin.

A part of it was darkened with liquid stains and sweat across his chest and shoulders. Some of the doted wet fabric even mapped the lean lines of his torso, revealing a body that didn’t match his usual weak but competent image.

His arms were also bare, seemingly smooth to touch with enough muscle definition to suggest that he wasn’t that weak. It was also glistening with sweat.

And his shorts. Those damned shorts barely reached mid-thigh, exposing pale legs that had been distracting his eyes.

Neville’s hazel-brown hair stuck up at odd angles, damp at the temples. His nerd glasses sat slightly askew on his nose. Behind them, those ocean-blue eyes widened in shock, continuing to blink in disbelief.

"M-Mr. Maxwell?" His voice was pitched higher than usual.

Grayson’s jaw tightened.

This omega hadn’t even checked the intercom. Again. Just opened the door and there were no people who would happily take advantage of someone in such a tempting state.

"Do you always answer the door like this?" The words came out sharper than intended.

Neville continued to blink at him. Then mechanically glanced down at himself, then back up. Pink crept across his cheeks.

But Grayson knew that Neville clearly didn’t get the point. After all, Neville was more concerned about his ’dirty’ appearance rather than his choice of clothing.

"I—I was doing something. The—"

Neville gestured vaguely behind him, but he was also trying to hide something behind him as he used his body to hinder him from peering inside.

"Why did Sir come here in the middle of the day?"

Good question. He had prepared an answer for that.

"Since we were at fault yesterday, I figured I should check on you." He said, sounding professional and detached. "Your recovery status needs to be verified, and there are some questions about the files you submitted."

"That’s not necessary, sir. But as you can see, I’m already looking great."

He spread his arms slightly, offering himself up for inspection as his hand gripped the edge of the door frame. Every line of his body language screamed polite dismissal.

Grayson’s eyes traveled down Neville’s frame in a slow, thorough examination as Neville wanted.

"I wonder," he said, stopping the urge to cover Neville there and then away from possible prying eyes.

Neville hurriedly asked, "I sent detailed notes with the files with the normal company encryption. Was there something unclear? If you had a private encrypted communication line, I can—"

"It requires in-person clarification."

Seemingly wracking his brain, Neville offered. "I can get you my robot’s findings if you’re not sure."

"Not necessary," he replied as if to say that he wouldn’t go away without coming inside your house.

"Yes, that’s why I—" Neville seemed a little nervous under his stare and stuttered a little. "I’m sure Sir Stewart could—"

"Stewart sent me."

Neville’s expression clearly said, ’Why would a mere chief secretary send a CEO? Does that make sense?’

But Grayson didn’t care. As long as his intentions were clearly conveyed, it didn’t matter.

Neville’s lips pressed into a thin line. His knuckles whitened against the doorframe. "Mr. Maxwell, I appreciate the concern, but I’m fine. Really. You don’t need to—"

"Are you sure you want to continue here?" he asked.

Grayson finally had Neville distracted.

As a final blow, he leaned on him and whispered, "I already saw everything there."

Technically, that wasn’t a lie. He really had seen the unique items around Neville’s house. Therefore, it was useless to hide it from him. Damn, he really smelled nice and slightly...milky?

Neville’s entire body froze, and he exclaimed, "When?!"

No matter how many times he saw it, it was really fun to watch his reactions.

Grayson raised an eyebrow and vaguely replied, "Last time."

Finally, Grayson managed to lead the absent-minded Neville happily inside the room.

"Have you eaten?" he asked.

The question seemed to catch Neville off guard, and he asked absentmindedly, "What?" 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

"Lunch. Have you?"

"I... was about to..."

Is he eating late again? What was he doing? Grayson thought, displeased.

He showed it by tilting his head slightly, letting silence do the heavy lifting. A negotiation tactic that had served him well over the years. People rushed to fill quiet spaces, often saying more than they intended.

Neville’s expression became colorful, which amused Grayson to no end. Unfortunately, his fun was cut as Neville finally resigned to his fate.

"I suppose it would be rude to turn away my boss," Neville murmured to himself, but he heard it. Then he said in a slightly squeaky and awkward tone, "Want some tea?"

Grayson draped one arm along the back of the couch and tilted his head against the cushion.

He thought he really looked good, even though his glasses couldn’t hide his beauty.

Grayson licked the bottom of his lips and said, "...A meal too."

Victory shouldn’t have tasted so sweet, but it was.

Neville adjusted his glasses and slipped into his professional mode. "Please wait a moment. I’ll get something fixed."

While he was looking around, Neville began rambling absentmindedly, "I didn’t expect a company, so please don’t expect anything fancy."

"I’m not picky," Grayson replied.

"That’s a lie," Neville murmured to himself as he pulled ingredients from a small refrigeration unit. "He sent back his lunch three times to the heater last week because the temperature wasn’t right. It ended up all soggy and unpalatable."

Grayson blinked and thought, He noticed that?

Neville didn’t look at him and focused on arranging items on the counter. "Sit anywhere. This’ll take about twenty minutes."

The only seating options were a small sofa and a single chair at a round table barely large enough for two. Grayson chose to remain on the sofa and positioned himself where he could watch Neville work.

Grayson thought as he looked at Neville, until when would he carelessly dress like that? Can’t he change clothes? It’s also drenched. Wouldn’t he be sick like this?

Neville moved with grace, hands steady as he prepped ingredients. The wet t-shirt gradually dried, though it still clung in places that drew Grayson’s attention.

Neville seemed to have the habit of adjusting his sleeves. After moving around, adjusting his shirt, he ended up revealing a little more of his chest area as he bowed down a little to work. His pink nipples were showing in the open.

Grayson forced himself to look away.

Then his gaze dropped to the table. Something dark peeked out from beneath it. It seemed to be a leather-bound item with deliberately worn edges. Without thinking, he reached down and pulled it out.

It looked like a book. An old-fashioned-looking one, the kind of thing you would find in a museum.

He opened it carefully.