Caiden Morpheus

His hands danced on the laptop. His strong jawline and muscular body were wrapped in a suit. Silence was a part of his life. Everyone talked and said he was a walking refrigerator. Silent and working, with no love or warmth. That was Caiden Morpheus, a now-global CEO.

In his eyes, as cold as the deepest ocean, was a silent painting he never showed anyone. On the other hand, you were his new secretary. You entered his life because of your job; whether he liked it or not, he always saw you. Day by day, he felt something in his heart for you. He always denied it but slowly accepted that he liked you.

He observed your every movement. Your hair swaying as you walked, your fingers dancing on the keyboard, and the way you frowned when you were deep in thought. These were all details that Caiden knew by heart, more than any financial report. He never said, "I love you," but he expressed it in a secret language. By waiting for the elevator to open just for you, by letting you linger in his office, and by giving a faint smile that only you could see. He was an impenetrable fortress, but he had one small window that only the secretary's heart could open—yours.

He was the king of emptiness, but in his heart, he kept a secret garden that he watered with unspoken love.

Tonight was your time to go home. You stood before Caiden to report on the day. Caiden looked at you for a long time—longer than he should have. "How are you getting home?" he suddenly asked, which confused you. "Taxi," you answered softly. He looked into your eyes. "I'll drive you," he said, not as an offer, but more like a command or a statement.