The Game Begins

Fernando’s POV

I leaned back in my chair, swirling the deep red wine in my glass as my maid, Emilia, carefully lifted another forkful of food to my lips.

I parted them just slightly, letting her slip the tender piece of meat inside. I chewed slowly, savoring the flavors.

It was a good meal—perfectly cooked and seasoned just right.

Yet, the presence of the man standing before me was ruining my appetite.

“Boss, I swear I don’t know how it happened,” Marlo stammered, shifting nervously from foot to foot.

His voice grated on my nerves, filled with desperation, regret, and the kind of blind devotion that bored me.

I raised a hand, stopping Emilia from feeding me the next bite. My sharp gaze lifted to Marlo, and he visibly flinched.

I sighed.

“Marlo.”

“Yes, Boss?”

I set my glass down with deliberate slowness.

“Are you aware that I despise incompetence?”

“Yes, Boss.” He bowed his head.

“And yet,” I continued, my tone smooth but sharp as a blade, “here you are, in my dining room, telling me that you’ve lost something important.”

Marlo swallowed.

“I—I didn’t lose it, Boss. I must have left it in my room.”

I cocked my head.

“Then retrieve it.”

His face turned red.

“That’s the thing, Boss. I looked everywhere. It’s gone.”

My fingers tapped rhythmically against the polished wooden table.

My irritation was growing, but something about this situation piqued my interest.

“Gone,” I echoed. “So someone took it?”

Marlo hesitated, then nodded.

“That’s what I think, Boss.”

A slow smile curled my lips.

“And tell me, Marlo… who was the last person in your room?”

He fidgeted, hesitating before answering.

“Michael, Boss.”

Ah.

I leaned forward slightly, folding my hands together, intrigued.

Michael.

The quiet, unassuming new recruit I had barely noticed until last night, when I caught him sneaking out of Marlo’s room like a guilty lover.

I had seen the way he froze when he met my gaze, the terror flashing through his eyes. I had felt his discomfort when I whispered into his ear, warning him never to overstep again.

And yet, here we were.

I hummed in amusement, my fingers drumming once against the table.

“So, Michael,” I mused, tasting the name on my tongue. “Does our newest recruit have a delicious dark side?”

Marlo stiffened.

“Boss, Michael is—”

I silenced him with a look.

“Don’t bore me with your defenses, Marlo. If the tag was last seen in your room, and Michael was the last person in there, then I have questions.”

As if on cue, the grand doors to the dining hall opened, and two of my men stepped inside, dragging a man with them.

My smile widened.

Michael.

A big sack covered his head, his hands bound behind his back.

He wasn’t struggling, which told me he was conscious. Good.

Excitement coursed through me as I gestured lazily with my hand.

“Remove it.”

One of my men brought the bag off, and for a single moment, I was caught off guard.

Michael’s eyes—burning, filled with pure hatred—locked onto mine with an intensity that sent a thrilling chill down my spine.

Ah.

It was gone in a flash, replaced by a polite, controlled expression, but I had seen it.

Interesting.

Michael blinked once, then licked his lips.

“Boss,” he said smoothly, his voice betraying no emotion. “What’s going on?”

I leaned back, pretending to consider him.

“That’s what I’d like to know, Michael.”

His jaw tensed slightly, but he remained composed.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

I gestured toward Marlo without looking at him.

“It appears my dear Marlo has lost something very important to me.”

Michael tilted his head, feigning confusion.

“Lost something?” he asked.

“Yes.” I leaned forward, my elbows resting on the table. “A tag. One that not only grants access to my very exclusive party tomorrow but also important rooms of my mansion.”

Michael’s expression didn’t change. If he was nervous, he hid it well.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Boss. But I don’t see what that has to do with me" he replied.

I smiled.

“Marlo says you were the last person in his room before it went missing and we both know that's true” I waited to see what expression would appear on his face.

A flicker of something passed through his eyes, but it was gone too fast for me to catch.

“I was in his room, yes. But only to ask him about work, like i said before” he replied.

I rolled my eyes. It seems he was still going to stick to his stupid excuse.

“Work,” I repeated, amused. “Not to, let’s say… indulge in more personal activities?”

Michael’s lips thinned.

“No, Boss.”

Liar.

I studied him, my amusement deepening.

He was good—very good at maintaining his composure. But I had been doing this for too long.

I knew when someone was hiding something.

I turned back to Marlo, who was still standing stiffly, awaiting my judgment. I sighed.

“Marlo, Marlo, Marlo. Do you know what I hate more than incompetence?” I asked.

Marlo swallowed.

“Lies, Boss?”

I grinned.

“Exactly.”

Michael remained still as I turned my attention back to him.

“Tell me, Michael.” I tapped a finger against the table. “Are you a liar?”

His eyes met mine, calm and unreadable.

“No, Boss.”

I held his gaze for a long, silent moment. Then, finally, I let out a low chuckle.

“Well,” I said, leaning back again, “I suppose we’ll find out.”

Michael remained silent, waiting.

I tapped my chin, pretending to think.

“Marlo’s carelessness is unfortunate. He should be punished for losing something so important.”

Marlo stiffened.

“Boss, please—”

I waved a hand, silencing him.

“But… I’m feeling generous.” My gaze slid back to Michael, and a delicious idea formed in my mind.

A game.

A test.

I smiled.

“Michael, since you seem to be such a… helpful recruit, I have an offer for you.”

Michael’s expression remained carefully neutral.

“An offer?”

I nodded.

“Come to my party tomorrow.”

Michael blinked.

“I—”

“Not as a guest, of course.” I smirked. “You’ll work as a server boy.”

Michael’s lips parted slightly, as if he hadn’t expected that.

Interesting.

Then, something flashed in his eyes—just for a second.

Excitement?

Ah.

Now that was intriguing.

Michael quickly masked his expression and gave a respectful nod.

“Of course, Boss. I’d be honored.”

I studied him.

“Would you?”

“Yes.”

I let the silence stretch, savoring the moment.

Then, finally, I grinned.

“Good.”

Michael inclined his head.

“Thank you, Boss.”

I watched him carefully, my curiosity growing.

Who are you really, Michael?

What secrets are you hiding?

And more importantly…

Why do I want to find out?

As Michael was escorted out of the dining hall, my smirk widened.

Oh, this was going to be fun.