Corvine looked like he had already given up trying to understand any of it.
"He also brought you a dress," he added, sounding tired already. "And judging from the look on his face, I donāt think he plans on leaving until you let him in."
Seraphineās jaw dropped completely but it didnāt take long for her to pull herself together, the initial shock fading fast as her mind snapped back into focus, her instincts kicking in the way they always did when things started slipping out of her control.
"Wait a second," she said, lifting a hand slightly as if she could pause everything around her. "Iām already dressed. Just tell him that."
Her tone carried confidence, a quiet finality, like the decision had already been made.
But before Corvine could even respond, another voice cut in, firm, controlled, leaving no room for argument. "Iāll handle it."
Seraphine turned immediately, her body reacted before her thoughts could catch up, tension creeping into her shoulders the moment her eyes landed on him.
"Voren," she said, her voice tightening just a little, "you canāt just walk into my room like this."
But he didnāt respond right away.
He studied her a piece of art, his gaze moving over her outfit, her posture, every detail, like he was silently picking it apart piece by piece.
That alone made something uneasy settle in her chest. "Wrong outfit," he said after a moment, his tone flat, analytical. "Wrong accessories."
Then, as if she wasnāt enough to critique, his attention wandered.
His eyes moved across the room, taking in the massive monitors, the layered tech setup, the cables, the glowing interfaces, everything that turned the space into something closer to a command center than a bedroom.
"Is this a room," he muttered, almost to himself, "or a server?"
Corvine let out a small laugh from the side, clearly entertained. "She works here most of the time," he explained. "Soon itāll be half here, half her office."
Voren gave a small nod, like that confirmed something he had already suspected.
Seraphine didnāt fit into any simple category.
There was nothing traditionally soft about her choices, nothing predictable, or easy to define, and for a brief second, something thoughtful passed through his expression, like he was recalibrating whatever image he had built of her before.
Then he moved.
He set down the items he had brought, pulling them out one by one, and Seraphine found herself watching him despite her irritation, noticing things she hadnāt paid attention to before.
He looked different from the last time she saw him, more put together.
Calm in a way that felt controlled rather than distant, dressed in semi-formal clothes that fit him well enough to make the whole look feel intentional without trying too hard.
There was something that made him harder to ignore. "Youāre wearing this," he said, tossing a dress toward her without warning. "Iāll handle the devices after."
Seraphine caught it on instinct, her fingers tightening around the fabric as she glanced down at it, quickly taking in the cut, the material, the obvious intent behind it.
Then she looked back up at him and tossed it right back. "Not happening," she said flatly. "I like what Iām wearing. Itās comfortable, andā"
"Elegant," Voren cut in smoothly, finishing her sentence without hesitation.
Then his expression hardened. "Santiago doesnāt care about elegance," he continued, his voice steady but firm. "Youāre not going in there to impress him with taste. You need access. And for that, you use what gets his attention."
Seraphineās jaw tightened. "You want me to what, exactly?" she asked, her voice sharpening despite her effort to stay composed.
"I want you to play the part that works," he replied without flinching. "If that means leaning into something you donāt like, then thatās what it takes."
There was a brief pause before he added, more quietly but with unmistakable weight, "You came up with this whole plan."
That landed harder than anything else he had said. "Sexy is the assignment," he went on, his tone leaving no space for negotiation. "You wear that dress, or this deal ends right here."
Seraphineās teeth pressed together, tension building in her chest as frustration flared, sharp and immediate.
There it was again.
That presence.
That quiet dominance in his voice, the kind that didnāt need to be loud to be felt, pressing against her instincts, pushing her toward resistance even as logic told her he wasnāt entirely wrong.
For a second, she wanted to argue, to push back. To refuse just because he expected her to comply.
But then reality settled in. She asked for his help. "Iāll go change," she said finally, the words tight but controlled.
She grabbed the dress and turned, walking toward the washroom without another glance, the door closing behind her with a soft click that felt louder than it should have.
Silence settled in the room for a moment, Corvine exhaled, shaking his head slightly. "I actually liked what she was wearing," he admitted. "Why make her change?"
Voren didnāt look at him right away. "Thatās exactly the problem," he said after a moment. "You like it."
Corvine frowned slightly. "And?"
"Youāre not the target," Voren replied, his tone matter-of-fact. "Santiago has a pattern. Women are his weakness, but only when they fit what he wants to see. If she walks in dressed for him, it throws him off, makes him careless."
Understanding slowly settled across Corvineās mind. "You couldāve just explained it like that to her."
Voren shrugged lightly, like it didnāt matter either way. "She still wouldāve hated it."
Corvine let out a quiet breath. "You know she didnāt exactly have a choice, right? Santiago basically turned this place into a nightmare just to force her into agreeing to that date."
For a brief moment, something flickered in Vorenās eyes, quick, and gone just as fast.
"Doesnāt change what needs to be done," he said.
Before Corvine could respond, the sound of the washroom door creaking open pulled both their attention at once.
Seraphine stepped out, and for a second, neither of them spoke.
The dress fit her like it had been made with her in mind, the midnight-colored fabric hugging her figure in a way that felt almost intentional, catching the light with every movement, subtle but impossible to ignore.
The slit along her thigh revealed just enough to draw attention without giving everything away, while the neckline framed her collarbones and the curve of her shoulders, making it hard to look anywhere else.
"You... you look..." Corvine started, but the words failed him halfway through, his brain clearly struggling to catch up with what he was seeing.
He blinked, then turned to Voren, still trying to process it. "How did you even know her size?"
The question hung in the air, and suddenly, the room didnāt feel as simple as it had a moment ago.