Chapter 32

‎It was already lunch break on Claire’s end. Feeling the stirrings of hunger and the need for a brief escape from her desk, she rose from her chair, smoothed her skirt, and stepped out of her office. Her destination was Edward’s office, just a few step adjacent to her office. She needed to let him know she was heading downstairs to the cafeteria for lunch, it was standard protocol, even if unnecessary.

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‎She knocked lightly on his door, her knuckles making soft contact with the polished wood.

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‎"Come in," came Edward’s voice, cold and detached, from within.

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‎Claire opened the door and stepped inside, closing it quietly behind her. The room was bathed in the low hum of fluorescent lighting, the only sound the steady clacking of keys as Edward typed away at his computer. He didn’t glance up.

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‎She walked across the office, her heels clicking softly against the floor, and stopped in front of his desk. He still hadn’t acknowledged her presence.

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‎"Sir, I'm going for my lunch break," she said clearly, standing patiently, waiting for a response.

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‎Nothing.

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‎Edward kept typing, eyes locked on his screen, as if she hadn’t spoken at all. The deliberate ignorance stung more than she expected. A flicker of irritation flashed through her, he was doing it on purpose. She could feel it.

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‎Her fists clenched subtly at her sides, and for a split second, she imagined marching right over to his chair and giving him a hot slap. Anything to snap him out of that cold, calculated silence.

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‎After what felt like an eternity, though it was probably no more than thirty seconds, he finally paused, fingers stilling on the keyboard. Slowly, he looked up, his expression unreadable.

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‎"I've ordered something for us to eat," he said, his voice calm and devoid of expression, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Claire blinked in confusion, clearly puzzled by his casual tone. Without another word, he rose from his chair and crossed the room with measured steps, heading toward where Claire stood near the desk.

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‎She froze as he approached, his intense gaze locked on her. There was a flicker of something in his eyes, desire, maybe?

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‎For a brief second, he seemed on the verge of leaning in, of closing the space between them entirely. The urge to kiss her was strong, he could feel it, but he restrained himself. Not yet.

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‎"I'm... I'm not used to eating with anyone," Claire stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. She faltered mid-sentence, unsure how to explain the fluttering in her chest or the sudden fog in her mind. The way he moved toward her, like a predator closing in on its prey, made her heart thud wildly against her ribs. It was maddening, the way her body betrayed her whenever he was near.

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‎"When I say something, Claire," he said, his tone low and cold, "don't you dare disobey me."

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‎The air between them shifted, thick with tension. His presence was overpowering, a silent storm wrapped in tailored suits and chilling command. She shivered involuntarily, her body responding to the sheer dominance he exuded. Noticing her reaction, he eased slightly, his expression softening just enough to keep her from retreating.

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‎Claire stood frozen, intimidated by the dark aura surrounding him. Since joining the company, he had never spoken to her in such a commanding way. For a while, she'd allowed herself to forget just how dangerous he could be—how easily he could make her feel like a frightened little bird in a lion's den.

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‎Edward reached out, his hand brushing against hers. Her skin was warm—soft and small in his palm. Without a word, he led her gently toward the couch opposite his desk. Claire followed, almost automatically, like an obedient schoolgirl under a spell.

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‎"Sit," he instructed, his voice brooking no argument as they reached the sleek, three-seater leather couch where a small coffee table stood in front.

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‎Claire sat down, her brows drawing together in a faint frown. She didn’t like being ordered around, especially not like this, but she reminded herself that she was in the Devil’s office. And if there was one thing she had learned, it was knowing when to speak, and when to keep silent.

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‎A firm knock echoed through the office door, cutting through the silence.

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‎“Come in,” Edward said without looking up, already certain of who it was. His voice was calm but carried an edge of authority that filled the room. He cast a brief glance at Claire, who was sitting beside him on the couch. She hadn’t flinched or protested, just sat there quietly, her posture rigid but composed. The corners of Edward’s lips twitched slightly in amusement. Was it his aura that intimidated her so much? His mood was far from good today, and maybe the weight of it was pressing down on her too. Thoughts of his grandfather and his latest attempt at arranging a blind date irritated him more than he cared to admit.

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‎“Good afternoon, sir,” Anthonio greeted politely as he entered the room, carefully carrying a food box. Without waiting for a reply, he approached the small table in front of them and began setting the dishes down.

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‎“You can leave,” Edward said coolly, watching him arrange the plates with quick efficiency.

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‎“Yes, sir,” Anthonio replied with a nod before turning to leave, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

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‎The silence settled once again, only now accompanied by the aroma of freshly prepared food. Edward glanced sideways at Claire, who hadn’t moved. She was staring at the food like it was some sort of trap.

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‎“Should I feed you?” he asked suddenly, a teasing note in his voice. Despite his usual aloofness, something about her stiff discomfort made it difficult for him to maintain a cold façade.

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‎She didn’t answer. Her eyes remained fixed on the food, expression unreadable, as though it might suddenly come to life and attack her. Her silence only encouraged him.

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‎“Well, since you clearly want me to feed you, I suppose I don’t mind,” he continued playfully, reaching for the spoon in front of her.

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‎But just as his fingers brushed the handle, she shot forward, her hand darting out to stop him.

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‎“I’ll eat,” she said quickly, almost in a panic, pulling the container closer to herself. With hurried movements, she opened the lid and began eating without making eye contact.

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‎Her mind was racing. The idea of letting this man, this cold, unpredictable demon, feed her was absurd. What if he did something reckless? What if he shoved the spoon down her throat just to prove a point? She swallowed hard, forcing herself to focus on the food, determined to finish quickly and return to the relative safety of her office.

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