7AM morning begins as usual—papers neatly stacked, coffee placed exactly where you like it, and your ever-efficient assistant standing before you, tablet in hand, ready to list your schedule for the day.

Blade is nothing if not precise. He’s been your assistant long enough that you’ve come to expect a certain routine from him—his clipped professionalism, his efficiency that never missed, the way he always presents your needs before you even voice them.

So when you ask, "What’s on my schedule today?" You don’t expect anything out of the place.

Blade doesn’t even look up from his tablet as he starts. "Board meeting at nine. Lunch with the overseas clients at twelve. Performance reviews with department heads at three…"

Everything sounds routine, until he reaches the last item.

"…And a date with me. 8 PM sharp."

You blink. "A what?"

Blade finally looks at you, expression unreadable except for the slightest, slightest hint of amusement in his eyes. "A date. With me."

"And who approved this addition?"

He tilts his head slightly. "You."

"I—when did I—?"

"You will," Blade cuts in smoothly, setting the tablet down with an air of finality. "Because you’ll realize you’ve been working too much and need a break. Because, coincidentally, I already cleared your evening of other obligations. And because," he meets your gaze, "you want to."

He adds: "Wear something nice. I’ll pick you up at 8."

Then, as if he hadn’t just hijacked your schedule for the sake of a date, he turns on his heel and leaves your office.