My Baby Daddy Isn’t Human

The office had begun to wind down with employees prepared to leave for the day. Elion stepped out of his office, his polished black shoes making a faint clicking sound against the tiled floor.

As he approached the elevator, Kade caught up to him, then leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed. The younger man raised an eyebrow, his expression one of faint curiosity mixed with mischief. "So," Kade began, his voice light but laced with meaning, "are you going to meet him tonight?"

Elion stopped, his eyes narrowing slightly. He didn't ask how Kade knew; it wasn't worth the effort. Instead, he gave a nod. "Yes."

Kade grinned. "Good luck, then. You might need it."

Elion's lips twitched into something resembling a smile, but it was gone just as quickly. He didn't respond, merely stepping into the elevator as the doors slid open with a soft chime. Kade watched him go, his grin fading into a thoughtful expression before he turned and walked away.

Elion drove in silence, the smooth purr of his car engine the only sound accompanying him. The city lights blurred past, their glow reflecting on the sleek black hood of his car. His hands gripped the steering wheel with measured force, his knuckles pale against the dark leather.

When he arrived at the restaurant, a valet approached immediately, bowing slightly as Elion stepped out. The building was nothing short of extravagant, its entrance framed by polished marble pillars and a red carpet that stretched toward the revolving glass doors.

Inside, the atmosphere was refined and intimate. A hostess greeted Elion with a polite smile, her voice soft as she spoke. "Good evening, sir. Do you have a reservation?"

"Jerome Quinnell," he replied smoothly, his tone calm but commanding.

The hostess nodded and gestured for him to follow. "Right this way, sir."

Elion followed her through the restaurant, his sharp eyes scanning his surroundings as they passed. The clinking of silverware and low murmurs of conversation filled the air, but he paid them no mind.

The VVIP room was tucked away at the far end, its door flanked by two attentive waitstaff. The hostess opened the door for him, revealing an elegantly decorated space. A single round table sat in the center, draped in pristine white linen and set with the finest china. Seated at the table was a man with salt-and-pepper hair and a neatly trimmed beard, dressed in a tailored suit that hinted at both wealth and power.

The man looked up as Elion entered, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Exactly 6:30 p.m.," he said, glancing at the gold watch on his wrist. "You're as punctual as ever, Elion."

Elion's expression remained neutral, though there was a distinct coldness in his eyes. "What do you want, Jerome?" he asked sharply, his voice low and even.

Jerome leaned back in his chair, he stayed calm even though Elion was clearly cold toward him. "Shouldn't we order first? This restaurant has an excellent selection of alcohol."

"I didn't come here to drink with you," Elion replied. "I came to hear what you wanted to talk about."

Jerome's smile widened, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Very well," he said smoothly, gesturing for the waiter to leave the room. Once they were alone, he folded his hands on the table, his gaze steady as he looked at Elion.

"As the opening, I thought we might discuss the... incident from the other day," Jerome began, but Elion cut him off with a sharp look.

"If that's why you called me here, you're wasting your time. Simmons already came to me about it, and we've resolved everything."

"Ah," Jerome said, raising a hand as if to placate him. "But no, that's not really why I invited you. This is about a new topic—something far more interesting."

Elion's brow furrowed slightly, but he didn't respond, waiting for the man to continue.

Jerome leaned forward slightly, his smile taking on a sly edge. "I couldn't help but notice you're living under the same roof as a certain woman... Miss More, I believe?"

Elion's jaw tightened, though his expression remained composed. "I don't see how that's any of your concern."

Jerome chuckled softly, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Of course, it's not. But it does make one wonder—are you two... involved?"

Elion's gaze turned icy, and his tone was firm. "I don't believe I need to answer that."

"Ah, but surely there's something," Jerome pressed. "If not, how else would you explain sharing the same roof? Just friend? I don't think so."

Elion's expression didn't falter. "I don't believe I need to disclose my private life to you."

Jerome raised his hands in mock surrender, a small smile on his lips. "I mean no harm, Elion. I only bring it up because I care. It's not every day we see you take such an interest in someone."

Elion's lips twitched into a faint, humorless smile. "I wish I could be touched by your concern, but if you've called me here just to interrogate me, I think we're done here."

"Please, Elion. I just want you to remember your place."

Elion pushed himself up from his chair as he shot Jerome with a cold glare. "My place?" Elion's voice was cold as ice. "Perhaps you should remind yourself of yours before daring to lecture me," he said, his voice dropping to a warning tone. "Don't cross the line again, Jerome. None of this is your business."

With that, Elion turned and strode toward the door, his footsteps echoing softly in the quiet room. Jerome's smile faded, replaced by a thoughtful, distant expression as he tracked his steps.

As the door closed behind Elion, Jerome reached for his glass of wine, swirling the deep red liquid before taking a slow sip. "For now," he murmured to himself.

He raised his glass toward the empty seat across from him, clinking it lightly against Elion's untouched glass before setting it down. A faint clink of glass lingered, almost as if emphasizing the thoughts left unsaid.

The wine catching the warm glow of light while he kept his focus on the door with an expression that hard to read,