After Hours

The clock on Dylan’s office wall read 11:47 P.M.

The mansion had fallen completely silent. Only the occasional patter of rain against the tall windows broke the quiet.

Praise stood near the large mahogany desk, carefully organizing the final stack of documents. His fingers moved with practiced precision, but his mind was elsewhere.

Dylan had been working for hours without pause. His jacket lay discarded over the back of his chair, with the sleeves of his black shirt rolled up to his elbows, revealing his strong, veined forearms. Even exhausted, Dylan Loperse radiated power, quiet, controlled, and impossible to ignore.

Praise had spent the last three hours trying not to stare at him. Yet he kept failing miserably.

“You’re staring,” Dylan said, his eyes still fixed on the contract in front of him.

“I wasn’t,” Praise calmly replied.

Dylan’s pen stopped moving, slowly he lifted his gaze. Those cold gray eyes locked onto him with unnerving intensity. “You were.”

“Perhaps you should focus on your work, sir.” Praise said, placing down the document. But Dylan just leaned back in his chair as he studied him.

 “What did you do before becoming a butler?”

“I worked in luxury hospitality.”

“You have the posture of someone who had spent years being watched,” Dylan observed. “Most people enter a room and immediately look for the most important person in it. You already know who that is.”

“You’re the owner of the house.”

Dylan’s lips twitched almost in a smile. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then ask a better question, sir.” Praise steadily met his gaze. The tension in the room thickened. Dylan instinctively stood, walking around the desk. He suddenly stopped mere inches away.

Praise could feel the heat radiating from his body. Just then, Dylan’s phone rang. His expression shifted instantly to ice as he answered.

“Don’t touch anything. Send the security footage to my private server. Find out who authorized the transfer.” He ended the call, his jaw tightened, barely containing anger.

“What happened?” Praise quietly asked.

“Nothing that concerns you.”

“Of course. That’s exactly the kind of answer I expected.” He almost laughed. Dylan suddenly stepped closer, his eyes narrowed.

“You’re very confident for your first day.”

“I’ve been told confidence is useful.”

Dylan’s hand rose; his fingers gently yet almost tenderly traced the line of Praise’s jaw. “Why do you look at me like you know me?”

His heart slammed against his ribs. “You’re imagining things.”

Dylan’s thumb brushed over his lower lip. The touch sent heat rushing through Praise’s body which made him flinch.  “Liar.” He suddenly kissed him.

It was raw and demanding. Their mouths crashed together as their tongues battled for dominance.

Praise gripped Dylan’s shoulders, kissing back with seven months of pent-up fury and desire. Dylan’s hands moved roughly, yanking Praise’s shirt open. Buttons scattered across the floor as he palmed his chest, thumbs circling and pinching his nipples until they hardened.

Dylan's thumb moved slightly against his jaw.

Praise should have pulled away.

Instead, he stood there, trapped between the man he had sworn to destroy and the strange attraction he had never expected to feel again.

Dylan suddenly turned away, cutting off the urge. "Go to bed."

"Sir?" Praise blinked.

"It's almost midnight."

"I still have work."

"I said go to bed." Praise stared at his back.

"Are you dismissing me?" Dylan turned, the expression on his face was unreadable.

"No." The single word hit Praise with strange force. Dylan walked past him, then stopped.  "Remember, you're coming with me to the company tomorrow."

Praise looked up, the past returned in a rush. The runway, cameras, the audience and Dylan's cold gray eyes. His fingers curled at his sides.

Dylan noticed. "Is there a problem?"

Praise slowly lifted his gaze. “No."

"You're lying again."

Praise smiled. "Perhaps I'm simply difficult to read." He stared at him for a long moment and then in a single breath, he stepped closer.

"That's the problem." Praise's breath caught as Dylan’s voice lowered. "You're the first person I've met in a long time that I can't read."

For a moment, Praise forgot how to breathe. But suddenly, Dylan turned and walked away. Praise remained standing in the office, his heart thudded uncontrollably.

He hated that feeling; the fact that Dylan could still affect him after everything he had caused him. “Why did a few words from this man still have the power to shake him?” He thought to himself. His gaze fell toward the desk, something caught his attention.

A file, left partially open beneath several documents.

He instinctively glanced toward the door. Dylan was really gone. Instead of leaving, he rather inched closer. The file had no visible label; he pulled it free in an instant.

His heart thumped faster than it had ever been. Praise scanned through, there were several documents. Financial reports, internal company transfers, Names, Dates and Payments. But then, the last sheet froze him cold.

Vanel Lense. The document read. His fingers trembled as he turned the page. There were records of his termination, but beneath them was something he had never seen before.

A confidential internal report dated three days before his accident. Praise read the first line.

SUBJECT: VANEL LENSE

STATUS: POTENTIAL LIABILITY

His blood turned cold as his eyes moved down the page. The final sentence hit him hard enough. “If the subject remains employed, the risk to the company will increase.”

Praise stared at the document, the room suddenly felt colder.

Someone had been watching Vanel before Dylan fired him. That person might had wanted him gone. And if the report had been created before the accident, then his crash might not have been random.

Just then, a sound invaded his thoughts from the doorway. Praise turned but then froze again, Dylan stood there at the entrance. His gray eyes immediately dropped to the file in Praise's hands.

For the first time since he had entered the mansion, Dylan genuinely looked angry. "Put that down."

"Why?" He slowly closed the file. Dylan took one step into the room.

"Because it doesn't concern you." Praise held his gaze.

"That's what you said earlier."

Dylan's jaw tightened as he watched him place the file back on the desk. But he didn't look away.

"Who wanted Vanel Lense gone?"

Silence answered coldly. For half a minute, neither of them said a word "How do you know Vanel Lense?" He finally broke the quiet.

Just then, it dawned on him. Cold sweat broke across his face; Praise realized he had made a mistake. A terrible one at that. How was he to lie his way out?

Dylan stepped closer. "Renard." Praise forced himself to breathe.

"Everyone knows who Vanel Lense was."

"Not like that." Dylan was standing directly in front of him now. His eyes were cold and suspicious. "Why did you say his name as if you knew him?"

Praise stared at him, then smiled. "I don't."

Dylan's gaze remained fixed on him. "You're lying." Praise's smile disappeared as he leaned closer. "Who are you?" He trembled, fear threatening to rip his mask of courage.

Not because he was afraid of being discovered. But because of the way Dylan was looking at him. As if somewhere beneath the unfamiliar face, he was searching for Vanel.

Praise stepped back. "Your new butler." Dylan didn't move as he hurriedly walked past him toward the door. Praise suddenly paused a few steps ahead of him.

"And tomorrow, I'll be accompanying you to Aurelius Luxe."

Dylan's eyes narrowed. "Why are you so interested in my company?"

"Because you hired me." He swiftly answered over his shoulder, walking away instantly. Dylan remained in the office with his gaze dropping to the file.

Then slowly lifted toward the door Praise had disappeared through. After seven whole months, the thought of Vanel Lense hit him.

He wondered if the dead could come back.