Water glasses sat aligned with mathematical precision along the polished table, untouched and sweating faintly beneath the lights.

Nathan sat at the head naturally.

And the room had already arranged itself around him before the meeting even began.

Stillness clung to him in dangerous ways. The kind that made people lower their voices instinctively without understanding why.

Knight occupied the chair beside him with far less restraint.

He leaned back slightly, one arm stretched lazily along the table’s edge, fingers turning a silver pen between them with effortless rhythm while his attention moved everywhere at once—contracts, body language, exits, pauses, breathing.

Relaxed only in appearance.

And Chen—

He looked like he had wandered into the wrong building entirely.

He sat sideways in his chair wearing an aggressively floral beach shirt half unbuttoned over a white tank top, sunglasses hanging dramatically from his collar despite being indoors, expensive hotel slippers somehow replacing formal shoes.

A bag of chips rested open beside the contract folders while he crunched through them with complete disrespect for acoustics, corporate etiquette, or human dignity.

Nobody had stopped him.

Mostly because Nathan and Knight had already learned years ago that attempting to control Chen only encouraged evolution.

The woman across the table didn’t notice.

She was too busy noticing Nathan.

From the moment the meeting started, her attention kept drifting back toward him with the slow precision of someone identifying the true center of gravity in the room.

Vanessa Hill. Sharp suit. Red nails. Beautiful in the calculated way dangerous people often were.

Beside her, Daniel Cross radiated polished arrogance and expensive cologne, his watch flashing every time he moved his wrist like he believed wealth itself qualified as personality.

“Mr. Viktor,” Vanessa purred smoothly, leaning forward just enough for the movement to become intentional, her voice dipped in honey. “We’re honored you agreed to meet us personally. I’ve heard you don’t waste time on… small opportunities.”

Nathan’s gaze remained lowered to the contract. “We review everything.”

Short. Flat.

Enough.

Knight spoke before silence fully settled, voice smooth as dark liquor. “Your projected margins.”

Vanessa smiled faintly, dismissing the folder with one elegant wave of her fingers. “We’ll get there. Partnerships are built on connection first.”

Chen leaned toward Daniel with a conspiratorial whisper loud enough for the entire table to hear. “Translation: she doesn’t have numbers.”

Daniel’s mouth tightened. “Is he always like this?”

Knight didn’t even glance away from Vanessa. “Unfortunately.”

Chen grinned proudly and stole another chip. “I’m essential.”

Nathan continued reading.

Vanessa shifted forward, elbows on the table, watching him for another moment too long before speaking again, slower this time. “You look different from your reputation.”

Nathan finally lifted his eyes. “What reputation?”

Calm. Direct.

“I expected someone colder.” Her gaze lingered on his face openly now. “Less… human.”

Chen gagged violently into his chips. “Oh no. She used adjectives.”

Knight’s pen clicked once between his fingers. Tiny sound sharp enough to cut through the room.

“Ms. Hill,” he said mildly, “the proposal.”

“I prefer Vanessa,” She insisted without moving an inch. “And I prefer conversations that aren’t rushed.”

Nathan didn’t respond.

Her hand slid across the polished table as she passed the financial reports toward Nathan, though her body angled toward him rather than the paperwork.

Too close already.

Deliberately close.

“Our firm currently controls coastal distribution across three Southeast Asian ports,” she explained, voice smooth with rehearsed confidence while Nathan scanned the pages without expression. “What we’re proposing is a shared logistics channel with Lang Industries operating as primary infrastructure partner.”

Knight took over immediately, his voice dropping into an intimately low register. “Projected growth.”

“Twelve percent in year one,” she smiled, “Eighteen by year three.”

Chen crunched another chip thoughtfully. “Eighteen sounds imaginary.”

Nathan flipped one page calmly. “Your shipping insurance coverage is region-locked.”

Vanessa leaned closer instantly, shoulder brushing his sleeve now. “That’s where your infrastructure advantage comes in.”

Her voice softened another degree, thick with subtle invitation. “Your reach solves our only weakness.”

Chen raised his chip slowly. “That’s what villains say in movies before betrayal.”

Knight steepled his fingers, his eyes locking onto Vanessa’s hand. “Liability transfer?”

“Forty percent,” Daniel answered.

“Too high,” Knight replied mildly.

“Negotiable,” Vanessa replied without breaking eye contact with Nathan once.

Daniel jumped in quickly, trying to recover control of the conversation. “We’re offering efficiency.”

Knight smiled faintly, a cold, dangerous expression entirely devoid of human warmth. “We prioritize stability.”

Vanessa’s fingers drifted near Nathan’s wrist while she spoke again, a polished, deep-red nail lightly grazing the dark fabric of his sleeve. “Efficiency can be arranged. The right alignment makes everything smoother.”

Chen paused mid-chew and pointed a chip at her. “Ma’am, you are entering a danger zone.”

She ignored him completely smiling softly at Nathan. “We can handle complicated situations. Very well.”

Nathan still hadn’t reacted. His Ice calm composure remained absolute.

That seemed to encourage her.

Vanessa crossed one leg slowly beneath the table, her knee drifting deliberately close, pressing lightly against Nathan’s leg.

Knight’s pen clicked again. The sound was quieter this time.

Worse somehow.

Daniel continued speaking about charts, shipping lanes, numbers, timelines.

But Vanessa’s attention kept drifting.

“You travel often?” Vanessa asked Nathan softly, her voice practically a whisper across the small distance.

“For work.”

“Must be exhausting.”

“It’s routine.”

She tilted her head. “You don’t seem like someone who lives alone.”

Chen inhaled an entire chip sideways and started choking immediately. “OH MY GOD.”

Knight reached for the water beside him without looking and shoved it toward Chen automatically before returning his attention to Vanessa. “Irrelevant to logistics.”

She finally glanced toward him briefly, smiling as though indulging an annoying interruption. “I’m building rapport.”

Then her attention slid right back to Nathan.

“We value long-term partnerships,” she continued. “Both professional and… otherwise.”

“Vanessa,” Daniel shifted slightly. “Let’s focus.”

She ignored him too, leaning in further until the scent of her perfume cloyed the space between them. “We can discuss additional arrangements privately if necessary.”

Chen stared at her in disbelief. Then slowly placed the chip bag down like the situation had officially bypassed comedy and entered anthropology.

“Ma’am,” he whispered gently, like explaining gravity to a child. “He is not a buffet.”

Venessa laughed softly. “I’m simply being friendly.”

Knight didn’t. “Stay on topic.”

Still calm.

Still smooth.

But the temperature in the room had changed.

Vanessa either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Her fingers brushed Nathan’s sleeve again, sliding up toward the cuff of his shirt.

The air snapped tighter.

Knight looked at her fully for the first time since the meeting began. “Don’t.”

One word.

Level.

Vanessa tilted her head slightly, thriving on the friction. “I don’t see an issue.”

Chen whispered loudly like a wildlife narrator, “Issue is approaching Mach speed.”

Nathan remained perfectly still beside Knight, eyes lowered once more toward the contract as though none of this interested him enough to interrupt the meeting for.

Which somehow made everything worse.

Venessa leaned even closer, voice dropping into a purr. “Some partnerships function best when there’s… a deeper understanding beyond paperworks.”

Silence spread slowly through the conference suite.

Even Daniel looked uncomfortable.

Knight spoke over the quiet before it could settle. “We don’t mix negotiations with personal offers.”

She didn’t even look at Knight. “I wasn’t speaking to you.”

That landed badly.

Chen physically leaned back in his chair. “OH SHE POKED THE FLAME.”

Knight’s chair shifted across the floor softly—a deliberate, heavy slide that brought him inches closer to Nathan.

His arm stretched lazily across the back of Nathan’s chair afterward with casual familiarity that immediately changed the shape of the room.

Territorial. Casual. Claim.

Vanessa noticed.

Her eyes flicked between them briefly before returning stubbornly to Nathan. “Some men hide behind their team.”

Knight laughed softly—a dangerous, low vibration that carried a wicked, confident edge. “You think I’m hiding?”

She tilted her head. “Then what are you?”

Knight leaned slightly toward Nathan then, his shoulder pressing flush against Nathan’s. His hand lifted automatically toward Nathan’s tie.

The movement looked fluid, unconscious, practiced.

His fingers brushed the silk, slowly tightening and straightening the knot while Nathan continued reading the contract without reacting at all.

“Protective,” Knight answered smoothly, his dark eyes locking onto Vanessa’s.

Vanessa’s gaze sharpened. “Of business?”

Knight’s thumb brushed once against the center of Nathan’s tie before his hand lowered again.

“Of what’s mine.”

Silence pressed hard against the glass walls.

Chen covered his mouth dramatically with both hands. “Peak Romance.”

Nathan turned another page calmly.

Vanessa studied them both now.

Actually studied them.

“You’re not married,” she muttered finally, her voice dropping its playful edge.

Knight answered before Nathan bothered to, a dangerous smirk playing on his lips. “He’s taken.”

She arched a brow. “By?”

The question barely finished leaving her mouth before Knight moved.

Smooth.

Certain.

He leaned in without a shred of hesitation and pressed his mouth against Nathan’s cheek slowly enough to become undeniable, lips lingering heavy and warm against Nathan’s skin, just a second longer than necessary while the entire room seemed to stop breathing around them.

Not rushed.

Not embarrassed.

Possessive. Deliberate. Unmistakable.

The crack of it split straight through the meeting.

Chen vibrated with delight.

Daniel blinked twice like his brain had failed to process what he’d just witnessed.

Nathan didn’t move.

Didn’t pull away.

Didn’t acknowledge it at all beyond the slightest shift of his gaze toward the next page of the contract in front of him.

Knight leaned back into his chair afterward, perfectly composed again, smile easy and infuriatingly calm. “Any more questions?”

Vanessa’s posture changed—subtle, but visible. Her hand withdrew from the table. Her shoulders pulled back half an inch. The confidence remained, but the certainty underneath it cracked.

Nathan finally spoke again like nothing unusual had happened. “Continue the projections.”

Chen pointed a finger at them in absolute triumph. “I TOLD YOU HE DOESN’T LIVE ALONE.”

The words bounced through the conference suite with horrifying clarity.

Daniel exhaled slowly through his nose, patience finally cracking beneath polished professionalism.

“Does he always behave like this during formal negotiations?” His gaze slid toward Chen with open disdain now. “You represent a multinational corporation, not a college dorm.”

Chen paused mid-crunch. The chip stopped halfway to his mouth.

“I can crunch quietly,” he informed him seriously. “It’s an advanced skill. I simply choose not to limit myself artistically.”

Daniel’s attention shifted back toward Nathan and Knight instead, dismissing Chen entirely. “You should reconsider bringing someone like him into strategic meetings. It reflects poorly on your leadership.”

The room cooled.

Something about the atmosphere itself seemed to sharpen around the table, the sunlight beyond the glass suddenly feeling much farther away.

Nathan still hadn’t looked up.

But the silver pen between his fingers stopped moving.

Knight leaned back slowly in his chair, studying Daniel with calm interest now—the kind reserved for structural weaknesses and unfortunate decisions.

“Let me clarify something,” Knight answered, voice even. “You don’t get to assess our leadership based on someone you had failed to understand.”

Daniel straightened slightly beneath the pressure but held his ground anyway, ego refusing survival instinct. “I understand enough. He hasn’t contributed a single professional point since we sat down. He—”

“He doesn’t need to perform for you,” Knight cut through the sentence cleanly, voice still smooth beneath the edge now sharpening underneath it. “He’s not here to impress you.”

Chen blinked between them, visibly confused by the sudden emotional escalation. “Wait, am I being fired or defended? Because I need emotional preparation.”

Nathan finally spoke, calm as winter water. “Ryder is in this room because we choose him to be.”

Daniel gave a restrained smile that failed completely at hiding the condescension beneath it. “Loyalty is admirable. But competence—”

“You’re mistaking noise for incompetence,” Knight cut him off again, leaning forward. The soft thud of his chair echoed louder than it should have. “That mistake usually costs people more than meetings.”

Chen stared at him with visible emotion. “This feels like a documentary about my life.”

Nathan closed the contract folder in front of him with precise finality. “You evaluated him in ten minutes. We’ve run the empire with him.”

Silence followed that.

Heavy.

Daniel hesitated for the first time since the meeting began, confidence faltering beneath the realization that he had stepped into something layered far deeper than corporate hierarchy. “I’m speaking strictly from a professional optics standpoint.”

Knight’s expression didn’t change. “Then your optics are shallow.”

Vanessa shifted beside Daniel, finally understanding the negotiation had begun collapsing around them. “Let’s not derail the discussion over tone—”

“It’s not tone,” Nathan interrupted quietly.

Every eye in the room turned toward him immediately.

“It’s principle.”

Silence settled for half a beat.

Nathan stood.

The meeting was already over; everyone just realized it at different speeds.

“Our partnerships are built on alignment,” Nathan continued while buttoning his suit jacket with calm, economical movements. “Respect is part of that.”

His gaze lifted finally toward Daniel.

Cold. Direct.

“You don’t have it.”

And just like that, the deal died.

Chen reacted instantly by launching himself out of his chair and wrapping both arms around Nathan and Knight from behind like an overexcited child claiming trophies.

“I KNEW IT,” he announced at full volume. “YOU LOVE ME.”

Knight physically staggered half a step from the impact. “You’re heavy.”

Nathan tolerated exactly two seconds of contact before attempting to pry Chen off his shoulders. “You’re loud.”

Chen squeezed tighter, beach shirt crinkling dramatically between expensive suits while his sunglasses nearly fell off his collar. “You see that? Unbreakable bond. Emotional infrastructure. Family-grade attachment.”

Knight muttered under his breath while trying unsuccessfully to remove him, “We should invoice him for that phrase.”

Nathan’s mouth twitched.

Tiny.

Almost invisible.

Still enough to make Chen gasp like he’d witnessed divine revelation.

“HE SMILED,” he whispered theatrically. “WRITE THAT DOWN.”

Across the table Vanessa began gathering her documents stiffly. “We’ll… revisit internally.”

“Don’t,” Knight replied instantly.

No smile this time.

Just Fire wrapped neatly inside human skin.

The silence afterward lingered awkwardly while the trio turned toward the exit together, Chen still hanging half off both of them despite active resistance from everyone involved.

“I would personally like to thank the board,” he announced proudly while stumbling alongside them, “for recognizing my emotional and professional value.”

Knight finally shoved him off near the exit. “Walk like a human being.”

Chen straightened his floral shirt with wounded dignity. “I was going to anyway.”

Nathan didn’t look back once as they left the conference suite.

Behind them, the room remained frozen in the aftermath of something none of the people inside fully understood anymore.

Ahead of them, sunlight spilled across the executive hallway in long strips of gold from the ocean-facing windows as three silhouettes moved in the same direction without needing to coordinate.

Ice in the center.

Fire at his shoulder.

Chaos orbiting both.

Knight glanced sideways toward Nathan, smirk returning. “You okay?”

Nathan adjusted his collar once beneath Knight’s lingering gaze, expression unreadable. “It was efficient.”

Chen gasped dramatically. “That was the most romantic corporate assassination I’ve ever witnessed.”

Knight laughed softly under his breath and leaned briefly against Nathan’s shoulder satisfied as they walked. “Good meeting.”

Nathan nodded once.

Outside the glass walls, Pattaya’s ocean rolled endlessly beneath the afternoon sun, blue water breaking itself against the shore over and over again without exhaustion.

Inside, the trio kept walking.

Ice. Fire. Chaos.

Three disasters moving in the same direction.

And somehow, against all reasonable logic, becoming something stronger every time the world tried to force them apart.

Next Stop in The Road Back to Present: