Chapter 12
The door clicked shut behind him.
And there he was—Sebastian Cross. The handsome devil himself, leaning back in his leather chair, phone pressed to his ear, a streak of sunlight catching on his bleached hair. He didn't even look startled at the interruption; in fact, the corners of his mouth curved upward, like he had been expecting this moment.
"Why don't we talk later," Sebastian murmured into the receiver, eyes locked directly on Kairen. Then, without waiting for a reply, he ended the call and set the phone aside with lazy precision.
Kairen froze just a step inside the office. His files pressed stiffly against his thighs, hands clammy. He kept his eyes lowered at first, but the weight of that gaze was unbearable. Slowly, cautiously, he looked up.
And caught it.
That wicked, knowing smile.
Something inside Kairen snapped. In his mind, he lunged for the vase on the desk, lifted it with both hands, and smashed it down on Sebastian's head. Porcelain shattered, flowers scattered, and Sebastian crumpled to the ground, clutching his skull, his smug face finally stripped of power. He was begging now—"Kairen, please, forgive me."
The fantasy was so vivid that Kairen's breath hitched. His grip on the file trembled.
"Are you just going to stand there all day?"
Sebastian's voice shattered the illusion like glass. Kairen blinked hard, jolted back into the present. The vase sat untouched, pristine, beside Sebastian's elbow. The man himself lounged there, alive, grinning, far too pleased with himself.
Kairen straightened his back, swallowed, and forced the words out.
"Good morning, boss."
Sebastian smirked, slow and deliberate, as though tasting the words on his tongue. He leaned back further in his chair, hazel eyes gleaming with a kind of private satisfaction.
And in that moment, Kairen knew Sebastian was enjoying this game far too much.
Kairen steadied his files against his lap, eyes lowered, chest rising too fast. He could feel Sebastian's stare like a knife dragging slowly over his skin.
"Boss—" he started, voice trembling but polite.
Sebastian lifted a hand, cutting him off. His smile was sharp, almost playful. "Not boss. Say 'sir.' Next time, properly."
Kairen swallowed, corrected himself under his breath. "Yes… sir." The word tasted like rust in his mouth.
Sebastian leaned back in his chair, satisfied, lips curling as though he'd already won something. "Now," he drawled, "tell me—why did my little nu nu run away yesterday? Like a scared dog. After seeing his longtime friend."
The words sank like poison. Kairen blinked once, his throat tightening. In his mind, the scene shifted—he saw himself hurling the files at Sebastian's smug face, screaming, "Motherfucker, I am not your friend, you idiotic, egotistic bastard—"
A sharp crack pulled him back to reality. Sebastian's palm slammed against the desk, rattling the pen tray. "Answer me." His voice boomed like a whip.
Kairen staggered back a step, knees nearly buckling. The files trembled in his grip. "I—I'm sorry, sir," he stammered. "I wasn't feeling well. I was sick."
The shift was immediate—Sebastian's rage cooled, replaced by a sly smile. He tilted his head, studying him like prey. "Sick? No. You ran because you're still the same miserable, wretched little faggot you always were. Too weak to hustle like men. And now… now you've found yourself a job for women, and you can't resist, right?"
The insult carved through him. Kairen clutched the files so tightly the edges bent. His chest shook with the effort to hold back tears, to keep breathing. His eyes burned, but he forced himself not to let a single drop fall.
Sebastian leaned forward, voice low, taunting. "Right?"
Kairen's lips parted, trembling. He swallowed hard, his voice breaking. "R-right."
That single word seemed to please him more than any apology could. Sebastian leaned back, lounging in his chair, victory glittering in his hazel eyes. Still weak. Still mine to toy with.
"Good," he murmured. "Then at least put on a smiling face for me."
Kairen's insides writhed. He gathered every shred of strength left in his body, every scrap of dignity, and forced his lips upward into a broken imitation of a smile. It felt grotesque, unnatural—but he did it.
Sebastian's grin widened, satisfied. "Better."
The silence stretched, suffocating, until Sebastian flicked his hand toward the desk. His voice turned casual, dismissive, as though nothing had happened. "Now. Read me today's schedule."
Kairen's smile faltered. His heart was screaming. His hands shook as he opened the file, preparing to serve the man who had just reminded him exactly what kind of hell he'd walked into
Kairen's eyes burned, raw at the edges, the tears pressing hard behind his lashes. He bit them back, throat tight, chest trembling with the effort to stand still. He held the files against him like a shield, like something that could keep him from collapsing right there on the polished marble.
Sebastian saw it. He savored it. That flicker of red in Kairen's eyes, that brittleness at the corners of his mouth. It was exactly what he wanted—to make him feel small, to remind him of his existence, to reduce him to nothing but this fragile, shaking thing in front of him.
A flicker of memory cut through Sebastian's head—the sneer of a girl he once thought he owned, the way she said she liked Kairen better, how she'd walked away. All because of this boy, standing in front of him now, still weak. Still too pretty for his own good. Still begging for ruin without saying a word.
Kairen cleared his throat, voice a whisper about to break. "Sir, your schedule—"
Sebastian lifted a hand, cutting through the moment. His lips curved.
"You know what? I'm not interested in schedules today. I'm feeling… slow." His gaze sharpened, almost a smirk. "Like you."
Kairen nodded, stiff, swallowing the insult like it was medicine. "What would you like me to do, sir?"
Sebastian's hands came together in a mocking clap, sharp and echoing in the room.
"There we go. If you were like this back then—submissive, obedient, not always trying to fight back—things would've been smooth."
His eyes roamed Kairen's face, landing where faint scars once lived. "Oh," Sebastian murmured, cruel delight sparking in his hazel eyes, "your scars have cleared. Almost a shame."
Kairen gripped the files tighter, knuckles pale, every word scraping him open.
Sebastian leaned back, finally delivering his verdict. "I want coffee."
Not because he needed it. But because watching Kairen fetch it for him would taste far better than caffeine ever could.
Kairen nodded faintly, clutching his files against his chest, and began toward the coffee dispenser tucked in the corner of the office. His footsteps were measured, quiet, like someone trying not to disturb a predator. But before he could take more than a few steps, Sebastian's voice cut through the silence.
"No."
The word froze Kairen mid-step. He turned just slightly, brows knitting, only to see Sebastian already rising from behind the desk. His tall frame moved with deliberate ease, his hazel eyes sharp with that wicked glint that made Kairen's stomach twist.
"The one up here?" Sebastian gestured lazily toward the office machine. "Terrible. Too hot."
Kairen's lips parted, and before he could stop himself, the words slipped out—just shy of rude.
"What would you like me to do then… sir?"
The correction came too late. The flash in Sebastian's eyes was instant, like a spark landing in dry grass. He stepped closer, voice lowering.
"The coffee I want is downstairs. Floor zero-zero-one."
For a moment Kairen just stared, files pressed tight to his side. Four hundred and fifty-six floors below. The absurdity made his chest burn, but he swallowed it down. His gaze flickered sideways, resentment threatening to spill, but Sebastian was already smiling.
"That's where I want it from," he repeated, tone as smooth as silk, as if daring Kairen to argue.
Kairen turned toward the door, resigning himself, but before his hand could reach the handle, Sebastian was already there. He moved fast, deliberately close, his body pressing the air out of the space between them. Kairen froze, the nearness stealing his breath. Then Sebastian leaned casually against the doorframe, fingers curling around the knob.
"I'm a nice boss," he murmured, his smirk brushing against Kairen's ear as he swung the door open. "I help you open the door."
Kairen stepped out stiffly, the hairs at the back of his neck rising, his thoughts burning. This bastard wants coffee—why is he following me then?
As though plucking the thought straight from his skull, Sebastian's voice slid in, amused.
"I'm not following you. Oh, and don't even think of poisoning me, even if you wanted to."
Kairen's jaw tightened. He made a face to himself, a silent grimace, before walking faster, pressing the elevator button with force.
But again—Sebastian was there. His hand slammed against the wall just beside the button, blocking him like a shadow.
"This," Sebastian said smoothly, "is exactly why I'm following you."
Kairen turned, eyes flashing in disbelief, their gazes locking in heated silence.
"Where then," he asked, voice edged though quiet, "do you want me to go?"
Sebastian's lips curved into a cruel smile. He gestured with one elegant hand toward the stairwell door.
"Three flights." A pause. His eyes glittered. "Or, rather… four hundred and fifty-six."
The words nearly broke him. Kairen's chest constricted, fury and disbelief colliding, but he forced it down, swallowing it like fire. He nodded, robotic, and turned toward the stairs.
"The elevator makes coffee cold quickly," Sebastian added idly behind him, his contradiction hanging in the air like mockery.
Kairen gripped the railing, beginning the long descent. His body moved mechanically, but inside, everything screamed. A single tear slipped loose, warm against his cheek, and he wiped it away furiously before anyone could see.
Upstairs, Sebastian leaned casually against the elevator beam, one ankle crossed over the other, arms folded as though this were all a leisurely game. His voice called down after him, light but sharp as a blade.
"Don't be late."
To be continued...