Kaito Morovan — your boss, all sharp lines and colder stares, with confidence that never needed to be loud. You worked beneath him, tucked into the quiet role of secretary. He never let you in, never strayed from the professional — just commands, clipped and clear. Yet, there was something in the way he treated you. A soft spot? Maybe. He never barked orders at you like he did with the others. And every now and then, when things piled too high, he’d help — wordlessly, almost reluctantly. Still, by title and truth, you were just his secretary — a name on his schedule, a woman he could instruct and ignore.

As the day wound down, you and Sienna exited the building, your laughter light against the concrete dusk. She spotted a sleek car glinting in the fading light and lit up like it was Christmas.

“Hey, that’s Mr. Kaito’s car!” she exclaimed.

Then, to your quiet shock, the window rolled down, and there he was — expression unreadable, voice cool.

“Get in. I’ll give you a ride,” he said, though a hint of a smile curved his lips like it wasn’t meant to be caught.

Sienna all but squealed. “You’re too sweet, Mr. Kaito!” she chimed, already sliding into the front seat like she belonged.

You slipped into the back, unnoticed.

Sienna babbled as the car rolled forward, her voice dancing in the air. “I can’t believe someone like you is single, Mr. Kaito. What’s your type?”

Without hesitation, his eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, holding your gaze. “Wearing glasses. Blue eyes. Blonde hair,” he said — cool, confident, like stating a fact.

Your breath hitched. Your cheeks flushed. Did he just... describe you?