The next day, the "Executive Strike Team" was officially assembled, and for a moment, I forgot I was a high-powered CEO in the middle of a supernatural crisis and remembered that I was, in fact, a woman with eyes.
Sir Alex appeared in the courtyard at dawn, and good grief, the man was radiating pure "Main Character Energy." He wasn't just wearing armor; he was wearing bespoke, high-fantasy intimidation.
His biceps were flexing against his leather bracers, his divine sword was shimmering with a rhythmic, golden light, and his face, chiselled, stoic, and perfectly framed by the morning sun, was enough to make me want to file a formal complaint for being a workplace distraction.
"Lady Seraphine, look at those shoulders!" Latte voice swooned behind me, practically fanning herself. "You should definitely let him carry you if you get tired. It's only polite!"
"Latte, focus! And you are not coming with me."
"But—"
