Page 83 of The Secretary Volume II

I already know.

The city slips past in softened glass and curated blur.I sit back and let it.Let the night roll over me like it’s part of the ritual.

New badge.New office.

Dinner with the boss.

Maybe I’m not supposed to enjoy the idea of that part.

But I do.I am.

The house appears like it’s been waiting.Sleek.Sharp.Sprawling.

The kind of place with no number on the front, no neighbors in sight, too many shadows with manners, and gates that open before we reach them.

By the time the car stops, the front door is already cracked open.

Ellis is standing there waiting.

Not smiling.

Not impatient.

Just waiting, like this was always going to happen.

I step out, smooth my skirt.

Black, low back, sleeves.

Something that says I thought about this, but not for too long.

He doesn’t smile.Doesn’t say anything.Just watches.

The door stays open just long enough for me to hesitate—half a breath, maybe less.Then I follow him in.

Inside the lights are low.

There’s music—something instrumental, something designed to make you thinkthis is tastefulwhile your brain softens.

The staff is invisible but felt.A motion in the periphery.

Ellis shows me the dining room.Two place settings.Two glasses.

The table’s already set with the kind of confidence that assumes I’ll eat.

“Sit,” he says.So I do.

He pours the wine himself.“I assume you know why you’re here.”

“I was told dinner.”

Ellis smiles faintly.“You’ve been distracted.”

“I’ve been shuffled around every five seconds.I had oral surgery.And someone died.”

“Yes.”He lifts his glass.“That was unfortunate.”

I say nothing.Glance at the wine I won’t touch.Try to think of something to say.

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