Chapter 90: Chapter 90: The Company Dinner 1

“IT LOOKS LIKE,” he said, his voice rough with something that might have been hope, “you’re going to have to help me stay human a little longer.”

His words lay between them like an unbuilt bridge, daring them to cross, burdened with truths that touched far more than the present dilemma.

Mailah’s hands tightened on his shoulders, her fingers finding the tension knotted there and working at it with unconscious gentleness. “Shouldn’t we have plan? Because if you’re thinking of doing something heroically stupid—”

“I have contingencies,” Grayson interrupted, surprising himself with how steady his voice sounded. “Kieran may think he holds all the cards, but I didn’t survive three centuries by being naive about business partnerships.”

Something shifted in Mailah’s expression, a calculating gleam that reminded him uncomfortably of his own predatory instincts. “Are you going to kill him?”

The question was delivered with such casual matter-of-factness that for a moment Grayson wondered if she was joking.

He blinked once, twice, and then, despite himself, laughter slipped free—rich and incredulous, echoing in the quiet room.

The sound escaped him in a sharp bark of genuine amusement that seemed to surprise them both.

“What?” Mailah demanded, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “It’s a reasonable question under the circumstances.”

“You may be less human than you think,” he said, reaching up to cover her hands with his own. The warmth of her skin against his palms was grounding in a way that seemed almost supernatural itself. “Most people wouldn’t jump straight to murder as a viable solution.”

“Most people don’t have supernatural boyfriends being blackmailed by ancient demons,” she pointed out with characteristic logic.

“Fair point.” His thumb traced circles across her knuckles, a gesture that was becoming as natural as breathing. “But no, I’m not planning to kill Kieran. Aside from the fact that it would be incredibly difficult to accomplish, his death would only create more problems.”

“Then what?”

“I secure my legitimate businesses first,” Grayson explained, his mind already working through the necessary steps. “Transfer key assets to subsidiary companies he can’t touch, establish legal firewalls between his operations and mine. If he chooses to dirty his hands with whatever he’s importing, the contamination won’t spread to everything I’ve built.”

Mailah nodded slowly, and he could see her brilliant mind processing the implications. “That’s… actually quite devious. You’re giving him what he wants while making sure he can’t destroy you in the process.”

“Centuries of experience with untrustworthy partners,” he said dryly. “The key is always maintaining enough separation to survive their inevitable betrayals.”

“And in the meantime?”

“In the meantime, we figure out what he’s really after and why he needs my networks specifically.” Grayson’s expression hardened. “Kieran doesn’t do anything without multiple layers of motivation. This is about more than just convenient shipping routes.”

The weight of the situation seemed to settle over them both, a reminder of how precarious their newfound stability really was.

But instead of the panic he might have expected, Grayson felt something else entirely—a strange sense of partnership, as though having Mailah beside him made even impossible odds seem manageable.

“Well,” Mailah said finally, her voice carrying a determined brightness that he was beginning to recognize as her response to overwhelming challenges, “if we’re going to be dealing with supernatural politics and demonic business ventures, we should probably start with something a bit more manageable.”

“Such as?”

Her smile was both innocent and terrifying. “I booked us a table at Rosario’s for tonight. Company dinner with your employees.”

Grayson’s entire body went rigid, his supernatural energy spiking with alarm that had nothing to do with ancient debts or demonic contracts.

“You did what?”

“Company dinner,” Mailah repeated cheerfully, as though she hadn’t just announced his impending doom. “Team building exercise. I thought it would be good for morale after this week of… behavioral modifications.”

Grayson stared at her in horror. “You want me to have dinner with my employees. In public. As a social activity.”

“That’s generally how company dinners work, yes.”

“Mailah.” His voice carried the same note of barely controlled panic that had been absent even during Kieran’s threats. “I don’t socialize with employees. I terrify them into compliance from behind a desk. There’s a very important distinction. And you’ve seen me eat in public.”

“Which is exactly why this is perfect,” she said, moving around to perch on the edge of his desk with the casual confidence of someone who had just solved world hunger. “If you can survive dinner conversation with the people you’ve been intimidating all week, Kieran’s mind games will seem like child’s play.”

“They’ll expect me to make conversation,” he said, his voice taking on the hollow quality of someone contemplating their own execution. “About their lives. Their interests. Their… families.”

“Of course.”

“I don’t know anything about their families. I’ve spent decades deliberately not learning about their families.”

“Then tonight’s a great opportunity to start.” Mailah’s smile widened with wicked delight. “I’ve already done some preliminary research. Janet in accounting has three cats and a passion for competitive knitting. Marcus in shipping just got engaged and won’t shut up about wedding venues. And Sarah from HR is apparently training for a marathon while going through a messy divorce.”

Grayson felt his eye begin to twitch. “You want me to discuss competitive knitting and messy divorces over pasta.”

“Among other things.”

“With people who currently cross themselves when I walk past their desks.”

“They’ll get over it.”

The casual dismissal of what seemed like an insurmountable social catastrophe would have been infuriating if it weren’t coming from the same woman who had somehow convinced him to water a plant and respond to the word ’cupcake.’

“This is a terrible idea,” he said weakly.

“It’s a brilliant idea,” she corrected, hopping down from the desk to stand between his knees, her hands coming up to frame his face. “Think about it—if you can manage casual dinner conversation with twelve people who are already terrified of you, controlling your demon nature around Kieran will be comparative child’s play.”

Her palms were warm against his cheeks, and he found himself leaning into the touch despite his growing sense of impending doom.

“Besides,” she continued, her voice dropping to a more intimate register, “I’ll be right there with you. If you start to lose control, I’ll just lean over and whisper ’fluffy ducklings’ in your ear.”

The mental image of Mailah whispering about waterfowl in the middle of a business dinner while his employees looked on in confusion was so absurd that he felt some of his panic begin to recede.

“You’re enjoying this,” he accused.

“Immensely,” she admitted without shame. “When was the last time you did something purely for the benefit of other people? Something that didn’t involve intimidation or strategic positioning or maintaining your reputation?”

The question caught him off guard. He opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again as he realized he couldn’t actually remember the last time he’d engaged in genuine altruism.

“That’s what I thought,” Mailah said softly, her thumbs stroking across his cheekbones with devastating gentleness. “You’ve spent so long being the terrifying demon CEO that you’ve forgotten how to just be… Grayson.”

“I’m not sure there’s a distinction anymore,” he admitted, the confession slipping out before he could stop it.

“Then we’ll find out together.”

The simple statement carried the weight of a promise, and looking into her eyes, he could see the absolute conviction there—the unshakeable belief that he was capable of being more than the sum of his darkest impulses.

It was terrifying and intoxicating in equal measure.

“What if I say something wrong?” he asked, voicing the fear that had been growing in his chest. “What if I accidentally reveal something supernatural, or intimidate them so badly they quit en masse?”

“Then we’ll deal with it,” Mailah said firmly. “But that’s not going to happen, because you’re not the same person you were a week ago. You’ve been managing your demon nature all week—this is just another test.”

“A test that involves small talk and breadsticks.”

“The most dangerous kind.”

Despite everything, he found himself smiling at her irreverent humor. The expression felt foreign on his face, but increasingly natural when she was looking at him like he hung the moon.

“You realize this could be a complete disaster,” he warned.

“It could be,” she agreed cheerfully. “Or it could be the first step toward you remembering what it feels like to be part of something larger than fear and intimidation.”

The possibility she was suggesting seemed both impossible and desperately appealing.

For centuries, his interactions with humans had been defined by utility—they were resources to be managed, obstacles to be overcome, or threats to be neutralized.

The idea of genuine connection, of relationships built on something other than supernatural dominance, was alien territory.

But then again, so had been everything else Mailah had introduced into his life.

“What time is dinner?” he asked, surrendering to the inevitable with as much grace as he could muster.

“Seven-thirty. Rosario’s has a private dining room, so we won’t be putting on a show for the entire restaurant.”

“Small mercies.”

“I thought you’d appreciate that.” Her hands slid down from his face to rest against his chest, and he could feel his heartbeat accelerate under her palms. “Although I have to warn you—I may have told them it was a celebration dinner.”

Grayson’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Celebrating what, exactly?”

“Your successful completion of anger management training.”

The announcement doused him like ice water. “You told them what?”

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