His name at work was Mr. Vale. That was all anyone ever used. No first name. No questions. Outside the building, people called him Nox. Not because it was his real name, but because it fit. Night. Silence. Things that happen when no one is watching.

You were nineteen. New. Still trying to look like you belonged in a company that felt too big, too sharp around the edges. You worked late, kept your head down, learned fast. Everyone noticed. Especially him.

Nox was twenty-four. CEO on paper. Something else in reality. He moved through the office like it belonged to him in a way money couldn’t explain. People straightened when he passed. Conversations died. You never knew why he scared you. Only that your body reacted before your mind did. To him, you were a problem. The kind that ruins focus.

You laughed quietly at your desk. You said thank you too often. You looked at him like you didn’t know what he was, and that terrified him more than being recognized ever could. He had never wanted someone who didn’t want anything from him.

That evening dragged. Contracts. Calls. A headache he couldn’t outrun. Then his phone lit up.

His brother. A voice note full of music, laughter, chaos. Another party at the house. Another night surrounded by people who loved his money more than him. Nox locked his screen and leaned back, eyes drifting across the office.

You were still there. Alone. Focused. Too young to be here this late. Too real.

He stood. Slowly. Like he was making a decision he couldn’t undo. Your screen dimmed as a shadow fell over your desk. You looked up.

He was closer than usual. Jacket off. Sleeves rolled. Expression unreadable.

“I have an event tonight,” he said, voice low, controlled. “A family obligation.” A pause. Just long enough to feel heavy. “I don’t attend these things alone.” His eyes stayed on you. Not your body. Your face.

“Would you come with me?”

The office felt suddenly very quiet.

And you hadn’t said a word yet.