By five o'clock, Adrian's hands were cramping from organizing files, his back ached from hunching over the conference table, and his head was pounding from trying to decipher Lysander's impossibly neat handwriting in the margins of various reports.
He'd managed to complete about three-quarters of the work assigned to him, which felt like a small miracle considering the mountain of documents he'd been given.
The office had grown quieter as the day wore on, most of the other employees filtering out as the evening approached. Adrian could hear the distant hum of the cleaning crew starting their rounds on the lower floors, but up here in the executive suite, it was just him and the oppressive presence of Lysander Silvermoon.
His boss had barely spoken to him all day, communicating mostly through sharp looks and the occasional barked instruction.
But Adrian had felt those gray eyes on him constantly, tracking his every movement. It was unnerving and thrilling in equal measure, making his skin prickle with awareness every time he caught Lysander staring.
"Mr. Bennett."
Adrian jumped at the sound of his name, nearly dropping the stack of acquisition reports he'd been cross-referencing.
He turned to find Lysander standing behind his desk, jacket discarded and sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms. Even disheveled, he was devastatingly beautiful.
"Yes, sir?"
"How much have you completed?"
Adrian gestured to the neatly organized piles on the conference table, proud of the work he'd accomplished despite the impossible deadline. "About seventy-five percent, sir. The Morrison account is fully organized by fiscal year and cross-referenced with their acquisition reports. I'm currently working on the Henderson files, and after that I have the Blackthorne Industries documents to finish."
Lysander moved closer, close enough that Adrian could smell that woodsy cologne again. His presence was overwhelming, making Adrian's pulse race and his thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind.
"Seventy-five percent," Lysander repeated, his voice dangerously soft. "And what time was I expecting this completed?"
Adrian's stomach dropped. "Five PM, sir."
"And what time is it now, Mr. Bennett?"
Adrian glanced at the clock on the wall, its hands clearly showing three minutes past five. "Five-oh-three, sir."
"Three minutes late." Lysander's silver eyes were cold as winter storms. "I told you I don't tolerate mistakes."
"Sir, I—"
"You what? Have an excuse?" Lysander circled around him slowly. "Let me guess. The work was too much? The deadline unreasonable? Perhaps you're not used to real work, coming from whatever mediocre background produced you?"
Adrian's cheeks burned with humiliation, but he kept his mouth shut. He needed this job. He needed the experience, the connections, the chance to prove himself in a real corporate environment. He couldn't afford to fight back, no matter how much Lysander's words stung.
"Nothing to say for yourself?" Lysander was standing directly in front of him now, close enough that Adrian had to tilt his head back to meet those piercing eyes. "How disappointing. I was expecting at least some fire from someone brave enough to apply here."
"I apologize for not finishing on time, sir," Adrian managed, hating how his voice shook slightly. "It won't happen again."
"Won't it?" Lysander's smile was sharp and cruel. "Tell me, Mr. Bennett, what exactly made you think you were qualified for a position at my company? Your grades are adequate but hardly exceptional. Your work experience consists of coffee shops and retail positions. You have no connections, no family wealth, no particular talents that I can discern."
Adrian felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes, but he blinked them back furiously. He would not cry in front of this man.
"So what is it?" Lysander continued, his voice dropping to a dangerous purr. "What made little Adrian Bennett think he could waltz into my world and succeed?"
"Perhaps," Lysander mused, circling him again, "it's because you're attracted to power. Some people are drawn to it like moths to a flame, even when they know it will burn them."
Adrian's breath caught in his throat. What was he trying to say?
"Tell me, Mr. Bennett," Lysander's voice was silk over steel, "are you into men?"
Adrian's face went white, then bright red in the span of seconds. His mouth opened and closed soundlessly as he struggled to form words, to process what his boss had just asked him.
"I... that's... that's not appropriate, sir," he finally stammered.
"Isn't it?" Lysander's smile was all teeth and no warmth. "I'm simply trying to understand what motivates my employees. If you're looking for a sugar daddy, Mr. Bennett, might I suggest you find some other fae to pursue? Perhaps someone more your... level."
The words hit Adrian like a slap across the face. The implication was clear and devastating, that Adrian was some kind of gold-digger, using his sexuality to try to climb the corporate ladder. That he was pathetic and desperate and obvious in his supposed attraction to his boss.
Adrian's hands were shaking now, his entire body trembling with a mixture of humiliation and rage that threatened to consume him. For a moment, he stood there frozen, taking the abuse like he'd learned to do in foster care, like he'd done his entire life when faced with people who had power over him.
But something inside him snapped.
"How dare you," he whispered, his voice barely audible but carrying the force of a hurricane.
Lysander's eyebrows rose in apparent surprise. "Excuse me?"
"How dare you," Adrian repeated, louder this time, his brown eyes blazing with a fury that transformed his gentle features into something fierce and beautiful. "You don't know anything about me. You don't know where I came from or what I've been through or why I'm here."
He took a step closer to Lysander, no longer caring about the consequences. The fear was still there, but it was overwhelmed by a righteous anger that burned away his usual timidity.
"I'm here because I earned it. Because I worked two jobs to put myself through college, because I studied harder than anyone else in my class, because I've never been handed anything in my entire life and I'm not about to start now."
His voice was shaking with emotion, but he didn't stop.
"And yes, I am into men, since you seem so interested in my personal life. But I would rather die alone than throw myself at someone who treats people like garbage just because he can. You may be powerful, Mr. Silvermoon, but that doesn't give you the right to humiliate me for your own entertainment."
Adrian was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he stared up at Lysander with defiant eyes. He'd never spoken to anyone like that before, never stood up for himself so completely. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.
"I quit," Adrian said, his voice steady now. "I'll clean out my desk and be gone within the hour."
He turned on his heel and walked toward the door, his spine straight and his chin raised despite the tears he could feel threatening to spill over. His internship was over before it had really begun, his dreams of proving himself crushed under the heel of one cruel, beautiful man.
He was almost to the door when Lysander's voice stopped him cold.
"Wait."