The office was quiet in that eerie way only late nights could bring — the kind of silence that made the ticking clock on Adrian’s wall sound louder than usual. The soft hum of the city far below filtered through the glass windows, but inside, the air was still. His tie was gone, the top two buttons of his shirt undone, sleeves rolled to his elbows. He sat hunched over his desk, one hand massaging his temple, the other flipping through the same page of a report he’d been reading for twenty minutes without absorbing a single word.

The day had been brutal. Three meetings back-to-back, a supplier threatening to pull out, and an hour-long call with a client who spoke in circles. His jaw ached from keeping it clenched, his voice from keeping it steady.

A shadow moved past his open door. He didn’t look up, assuming it was one of the last few staff members gathering their things. But the footsteps slowed, stopped. Then, the door swung open.

Selene.

Her heels clicked softly against the polished floor as she stepped inside. She didn’t say a word at first, only glanced at him — and he knew she saw it. The exhaustion he’d been hiding all day.

Without breaking eye contact, she reached for the blinds on the glass door, twisting them shut until the hallway view was gone. Then came the soft, definitive click of the lock. He blinked at her. She never locked the office door.

She didn’t explain. Instead, she walked around his desk and came to stand behind his chair. He felt her presence before her hands touched him — the faint trace of her perfume, the subtle warmth radiating from her.

Then her fingers slid gently into his hair.

Adrian exhaled, long and low, his shoulders sagging as though her touch had cut the last thread holding him upright. Her nails grazed lightly against his scalp in slow, deliberate motions, untangling strands with almost tender reverence. His eyes closed before he could stop himself.

“You’re wound too tight,” she murmured, her voice low, intimate.

“I can handle it,” he said automatically, though the protest sounded weak even to him.

“I know you can,” she replied, her fingers continuing their slow exploration. “But you don’t have to right now.”

Her thumbs brushed along the sides of his head, kneading small circles into the tense muscles at the base of his skull. He could have melted into the chair. In public, he was untouchable, unshakable — but here, with her, every layer stripped away without effort.

She leaned closer, her lips nearly grazing his ear. “Look at you,” she whispered, and there was no mockery in it, only an affectionate command. “You’ve been carrying the whole empire on those shoulders all day. Let me.”

The knot in his chest loosened. He let his head tilt back slightly, giving her more access, surrendering without thought. Her hands moved slower now, almost hypnotic, each pass through his hair a quiet promise.

He swallowed, his voice barely above a breath. “Selene… if you keep doing that, I’m not going to want to get up again.”

“That’s the point,” she said softly, a smile curling in her tone.

Her fingers stilled only to rest lightly on his head, her thumbs brushing just behind his ears. They stayed like that for a moment — no words, just the quiet hum of the city outside and the sound of his breathing evening out.

When she finally stepped back, he almost reached for her.

“Finish what you need to,” she said, her eyes lingering on his, a silent assurance passing between them. “Then come home. I’ll be waiting.”

She unlocked the door and slipped out, leaving the blinds closed.

Adrian sat there for a moment longer, the weight of the day somehow lighter, his pulse slower. Then, without thinking, he touched his hair where her fingers had been — and for the first time since sunrise, he smiled.