68. The Bottle On His Shelf.

Rose – POV

I stood in front of Damien’s office door for a few seconds before knocking.

My fingers hovered in the air.

I didn’t know why my heart was beating faster than normal.

This was just work.

Just a report.

Nothing more.

Still… something about standing outside his office always made me feel strange. Like I was stepping into a space I didn’t fully belong in.

I knocked.

“Come in,” his voice came through, calm and deep.

I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The office was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that made you aware of every movement you made.

The first thing I noticed, like always, was how large the room was.

Damien’s office didn’t look like a normal office. It felt more like a private study. Dark wood shelves covered the walls. Books were arranged neatly, not just business books but old-looking ones too. Some of them had no titles on the spine.

The windows were tall, letting in enough light, but the curtains were half drawn, keeping the room dim.

Damien sat behind his desk.

He looked up at me.

“Morning, Rose,” he said.

His voice was steady, controlled. Always controlled.

“Good morning, sir,” I replied, walking closer.

I placed the file on his desk.

“This is the report you asked for,” I said.

He nodded and opened it, flipping through the pages.

While he read, I stood there, unsure of what to do with my hands.

That was when my eyes wandered.

I didn’t mean to look around.

It just… happened.

My gaze moved across the shelves.

And then I saw it.

A bottle.

It was placed on one of the shelves behind him, slightly hidden but still visible.

It wasn’t like the other bottles I had seen before.

This one was fancy.

The glass was thick and dark, almost black, but light passed through it just enough to show what was inside.

A deep red liquid.

Not bright red.

Not watery.

Thick.

Dark.

Heavy.

It looked… strange.

I frowned slightly.

Wine?

No.

It didn’t look like wine.

The liquid looked heavier. Almost alive.

I didn’t realize I had stopped breathing until Damien spoke.

“Is something wrong?”

I flinched slightly.

I hadn’t noticed he had stopped reading.

His eyes were on me now.

I realized my mistake immediately.

I was staring.

At the bottle.

“I— I’m sorry,” I said quickly, forcing my eyes away. “I didn’t mean to stare.”

Damien leaned back in his chair slowly.

“Staring in your boss’s office,” he said calmly, “on your first official week.”

My heart dropped.

“I— I wasn’t—”

“You could have lost your job,” he continued, his tone sharp but controlled, “even before properly resuming.. your first day, you resumed late.”

I swallowed hard.

“I’m really sorry,” I said. “I wasn’t trying to be rude.”

Silence filled the room.

I felt small.

Then, unexpectedly, he spoke again.

“You were drunk that night,” he said.

I blinked.

That wasn’t where I thought this conversation was going.

“Yes,” I said slowly. “I was.”

“Very drunk,” he added.

I nodded.

I still felt embarrassed thinking about it.

“That night,” he continued, “you could barely stand.”

I hesitated, then decided to take the chance.

“Sir,” I said carefully, “there’s something I wanted to ask.”

He looked at me.

“How did you know where I live?” I asked.

The moment the words left my mouth, I wished I could take them back.

Damien didn’t answer immediately.

He paused.

Just for a second.

But I noticed.

His eyes darkened slightly.

Then he smiled.

A small, calm smile.

“You told me,” he said.

I frowned.

“I did?”

“Yes,” he replied smoothly. “You were directing me.”

I tried to remember.

My head hurt just thinking about that night.

“I don’t remember doing that,” I admitted.

“You were very persuasive,” he said.

I opened my mouth to say something else, but he raised his hand slightly.

“Enough,” he said, suddenly back in his boss tone.

The shift was immediate.

Cold.

Professional.

“I need you to finalize the second section of the report,” he continued. “And prepare the files for tomorrow’s meeting.”

“Oh,” I said, startled. “Yes, sir.”

He handed the file back to me.

“You can go,” he said.

I took the file, nodded, and turned toward the door.

As I opened it, someone walked in.

She almost bumped into me.

I stepped aside quickly.

She was pale.

Very pale, beautiful.... mysterious.

Her skin looked almost white, like she hadn’t seen the sun in years, dressed in black wear covering all her body except her face and arm.

Her eyes were sharp, cold, and when they landed on me, they filled with something unpleasant.

Disgust.

She looked me up and down like I was something dirty on the floor.

I felt uncomfortable immediately.

She walked past me without a word.

The door began to close.

But it didn’t close fully.

I turned back instinctively and reached to shut it properly.

That was when I heard her voice.

“What do you intend to do with the weird human?”

I froze.

Human?

Why would she call me that?

Before I could hear Damien’s reply, I shut the door completely.

My heart was racing.

I stood there for a moment, confused.

Human?

That was a strange way to put it.

I shook my head.

I was overthinking.

I walked away, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling crawling up my spine.

Damien – POV

The moment Rose walked into my office, I sensed it.

Her presence...her weird fearful presence.

Warm.

Alive.

I had to keep my expression neutral.

She placed the report on my desk, and I opened it, forcing myself to focus on the words instead of the pulse beating softly in her veins.

I could hear it.

Smell it.

She stood there quietly.

Then I noticed her silence stretching longer than normal.

I looked up.

Her eyes were fixed on the bottle.

The blood bottle.

Damn it.

I watched her carefully.

She didn’t know what it was.

But curiosity was dangerous.

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

She flinched.

Good.

She apologized quickly.

I leaned back and reminded her who I was.

Her boss.

Not a friend.

Not a savior.

She needed boundaries.

When I mentioned the night she got drunk, her scent shifted.

Embarrassment.

Confusion.

Then she asked the question I had been expecting.

“How did you know where I live?”

I paused.

Just long enough to think.

Then I lied.

Smoothly.

She didn’t remember that night. That much was clear.

I cut the conversation short before she could dig deeper.

When she left, Elira entered.

Her scent was cold.

Ancient.

She looked displeased.

As always.

She spoke without care.

“What do you intend to do with the weird human?”

I said nothing.

Because the answer was complicated.

Dangerous.

And something even I wasn’t ready to admit yet.

Rose – POV

As I walked back to my desk, I couldn’t stop thinking about that bottle.

Or that woman.

Or the way Damien had looked when I mentioned my house.

Human.

Why say it like that?

I pushed the thought away.

This job was already strange enough.

I didn’t need to make it stranger.

Still… something told me this was only the beginning.