Becoming Lailah: Married to my Twin Sister's Billionaire Husband-Chapter 87: The Human Buffer

FOR A MOMENT, silence stretched between them, heavy but charged. She could see the effort it had taken him to temper his nature, to leash the side of himself that would rather feed on fear than offer patience. And the knowledge that he had done it—for her—made something twist deep inside her chest.

But she also knew this was only the beginning.

Grayson turned his gaze on her, that familiar mixture of exasperation and reluctant fascination darkening his expression. "Satisfied?"

Mailah tilted her chin. "Not quite. That was just one. You’ve got an entire day ahead of you."

His jaw flexed, a warning, but she pressed on, refusing to give him the opening to dismiss her. "So here’s what’s going to happen. I’m sitting in. Every meeting. Consider me your... human buffer."

His brows arched. "My what?"

"You heard me," she said, sliding into one of the guest chairs with disarming ease. "You lash out, I step in. Simple."

The sound he made was more growl than laugh. "This isn’t kindergarten, Mailah. I don’t need a chaperone."

She crossed her legs, her expression sweet but her eyes sparking with defiance. "Good thing I’m not asking permission."

For a long moment, he stared at her, as if torn between throwing her out or dragging her closer. Then, with a sharp exhale, he yanked his tie tighter and straightened his jacket. "Fine. But don’t complain when you regret it."

She smiled faintly, already knowing she wouldn’t.

The first meeting began ten minutes later.

A cluster of senior managers filed into the glass-walled conference room, their voices hushed, their eyes flitting nervously toward the imposing figure at the head of the table.

Grayson’s mere presence seemed to shrink the space, his broad shoulders framed by the skyline beyond the windows, his expression a storm barely held in check.

Mailah slipped in beside him, her notebook open but blank, watching like a hawk.

It didn’t take long for trouble to stir.

One of the managers stumbled through a presentation, stuttering over missed numbers.

Grayson’s eyes narrowed.

His voice cut low and sharp. "You expect me to believe this projection? Do you think incompetence is excusable if you wear it with enough nerves?"

The man blanched. The others shifted uncomfortably.

And then—

Clatter.

Mailah dropped her pen.

On purpose.

The metallic sound bounced across the table, drawing every eye. She bent slowly to pick it up, deliberately knocking her water bottle in the process.

It rolled dramatically toward Grayson’s immaculate suit.

He caught it one-handed before it could spill, his jaw tightening as he turned to her. "Really."

She blinked innocently. "Sorry. Clumsy me."

But the man across the table looked a little less like he might faint, and Grayson—though simmering—didn’t snap further.

He returned the bottle with a low grunt, his voice clipped but less lethal as he gestured for the manager to continue.

Mailah leaned back in her chair, victorious.

Grayson’s hand brushed against hers under the table in what seemed like an accident. But when she glanced down, his fingers deliberately curled around hers for a brief, punishing squeeze.

Not enough for anyone else to notice, but enough to make her breath catch.

The message was clear: You’re insufferable.

But the flicker in his eyes whispered something else: Don’t stop.

The second meeting was worse.

By then, Mailah could see the cracks in his restraint. His voice was sharper, his shoulders tense, the demon beneath his skin seemed to be prowling restlessly.

She leaned toward him during the presentation, whispering, "You’re squeezing the poor man with your glare. Ease up."

He didn’t turn his head. "You do realize I could glare you into silence, too?"

"You wouldn’t dare," she murmured back, her lips curving.

His gaze slid sideways to her, and for a moment, his control wavered—not from rage this time, but from something hotter, more dangerous.

And that was when she struck.

Before his temper could snap, she pulled something from her bag and shoved it into his hand.

He glanced down.

A stress ball. Bright yellow. Shaped like a smiling cat.

The look on his face was priceless.

"You’re kidding," he muttered.

Mailah leaned back, smirking. "Squeeze that instead of someone’s soul."

For a heartbeat, she thought he might actually throw it across the room.

But then, with a low sound of irritation, he clenched it in his fist. Hard.

The manager stuttered through his proposal while their terrifying CEO sat crushing a neon cat in his palm.

Mailah bit back a laugh. The absurdity was too much.

When the meeting ended, Grayson shoved the toy back at her. "Never again."

But there was a faint flush on his cheeks, and she could have sworn the corners of his mouth twitched as if resisting a smile.

By the time the afternoon hit, Mailah knew he was close to breaking. His voice had deepened, his movements sharper, the demon in him straining like a chained beast.

She caught him before the next meeting, planting herself in front of him with her arms crossed.

"You need a break."

"I don’t take breaks."

"Well, you do now." She grabbed his arm and tugged, ignoring the sheer wall of muscle and resistance. "Lunch. You’re coming with me."

"Mailah—" His tone was low, dangerous.

"Grayson." She met his eyes, refusing to flinch. "Do you want to lose control in front of the board? Because that’s what’s going to happen if you don’t eat something that isn’t fear."

His jaw worked. For a long second, she thought he’d refuse outright. Then, with a muttered curse, he let her pull him down the hall.

The sight was enough to send whispers rippling through the staff.

Their CEO, dragged out of the building by his wife at his side, looking more human than anyone had ever seen him.

They ended up at a quiet café two blocks away, the hum of normalcy around them almost surreal.

Mailah ordered for both of them, ignoring his scowl, and when the food arrived, she watched him pick at it like it was foreign.

"Eat," she ordered.

"This is unnecessary."

"I know you’re starving."

Slowly, grudgingly, he took a bite.

And another.

By the third, his shoulders loosened, the tension in his jaw easing ever so slightly.

Mailah leaned her chin on her hand, smiling softly. "See? Not so bad."

His gaze flicked to hers, sharp and searching, and for a moment, the world outside that café blurred.

His demon side had quieted, if only briefly, leaving just the man in front of her. The one who, despite himself, was trying.

And because she couldn’t resist, she tilted her head, studying him with mischief. "I’ve got an idea for the next meetings."

His fork paused midair. "That sentence terrifies me."

She grinned. "One compliment. Just one. To someone in the room."

His eyes narrowed as if she’d just asked him to swallow broken glass. "A compliment?"

"Yes. You know—’nice work,’ ’good initiative,’ something that won’t make them think you’re about to fire them on the spot."

He set his fork down with exaggerated care. "Mailah, I’m a demon. Do you honestly think I can... compliment someone without choking on the words?"

"You’ve got a strong jaw," she teased, "I’m sure you’ll manage."

He leaned back, folding his arms, his eyes glinting. "You’re enjoying this far too much."

She shrugged, playful but firm. "It’s either that, or you terrify the entire board into early retirement. I’m giving you a challenge."

He studied her for a long, tense moment, as if weighing whether to indulge her or dismiss the notion entirely.

Finally, with a dark, reluctant chuckle, he muttered, "You’ll regret this."

Her heart skipped at the sound. "No," she said, smiling. "I really don’t think I will."

Back at the office, the final meeting of the day loomed—a presentation with the full executive board.

Mailah sat beside him once more, acutely aware of the storm brewing beneath his calm exterior. This was the ultimate test.

As the discussion grew heated, Grayson’s tone darkened.

His flaring temper threatened in his eyes again, his voice slicing through the room like a blade.

Mailah nudged him sharply under the table.

His hand twitched. His gaze flicked to her.

She mouthed, Compliment.

He narrowed his eyes in disbelief.

She raised her brows, daring him.

And then, in a voice that sounded like it was dragged out of him with claws, he said, "Your... initiative is commendable. I expect the others to match your standard."

The entire room went still.

The executive who’d just presented blinked in stunned silence.

Mailah bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. She slid him a proud smile.

Grayson’s jaw flexed as if he wanted to strangle her and kiss her in the same breath.

The meeting concluded with more restraint than she thought possible, and when they finally exited, Grayson leaned close, his breath warm against her ear.

"You are going to pay for this," he murmured.

Her pulse leapt, but she only smirked. "Worth it."

He growled low in his throat, the sound curling heat down her spine.

And yet, beneath the menace, there was something unspoken, undeniable.

Because for all his threats and reluctance, he had done it.

He had tried—for her.

And that, more than anything, made her fall just a little harder.