Chapter 15: Office Intrigue
The hum of the photocopier was a steady, mind-nothing drone. Taichi leaned against the machine, waiting for it to spit out the last of the quarterly reports. He was grateful for the quiet. The penthouse, for all its luxuries, was never silent. There was the low, almost sub-audible hum of Ryuu’s presence, the rustle of silk, the sense of being watched, cherished, and catalogued every moment.
Here, in the fluorescent buzz of the copy room, he could almost pretend.
He rested a hand on his stomach, now a firm, undeniable curve beneath a soft, charcoal grey sweater Ryuu had chosen for him. “For comfort,” he’d said, his claws carefully sheathed as he’d pulled it over Taichi’s head. The fabric was expensive, meant to drape, not conceal. It didn’t conceal anything.
The door swished open.
“Thought I’d find you hiding in here.”
Taichi flinched, pulling his hand away as if burned. Hana leaned against the doorway, holding two mugs of steaming coffee. She nudged the door closed with her hip.
“Not hiding,” Taichi said, too quickly. “Just… copies.”
“Right.” She handed him a mug. “You’ve been ‘just copies’ for three days. And you’re wearing cashmere to work. Since when?” Her eyes, sharp and friendly, didn’t leave his face.
He took the coffee, inhaling the bleak, office-pot aroma. “It was a gift.”
“Mmhm.” She took a sip, her gaze finally, deliberately, dipping down. It lingered on the gentle swell the soft wool acquiesced to. The copier finished its run and fell silent. In the sudden quiet, the air conditioner’s rattle sounded like bones.
Hana set her mug down on the stack of paper. “Okay. Level with me, Tai. The rumours are getting weird. Like, legitimately weird. People saw you leave the boardroom the other day wearing the CEO’s jacket. Your jacket was… missing. Then you’re out for a week with a ‘stomach bug,’ and you come back looking…” She gestured vaguely at his midsection. “Softer. And Kurosawa-san watches you like you’re a priceless vase he’s afraid someone’s going to bump into.”
Taichi’s throat was desert-dry. He took a gulp of bitter coffee. “It’s complicated.”
“Obviously. But we’ve been friends since they stuck us in that awful orientation seminar. I covered for you when you had that panic attack over the fiscal year audit. You told me when your mom got sick.” She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that was somehow louder than a shout in the tiny room. “So talk to me. Is it… is it what I think it is? Because I binge-watch a lot of weird TV, and my brain is jumping to conclusions that can’t possibly be right.”
He couldn’t meet her eyes. He stared at the dormant copier, its green light blinking like a predatory eye. The weight of the secret, the insane, glorious, terrifying truth of it, was a stone in his chest. He was so tired of carrying it alone in the daylight world.
“What do you think it is?” he whispered back.
Hana blew out a long breath. “I think you’re in way over your head with a scary powerful guy who is way too into you. I think you’re…” She paused, choosing her words with uncharacteristic care. “You’re showing, Taichi. In a way that doesn’t match any six-pack of beers I’ve ever seen. And the way he looks at you… it’s not just possessive. It’s… primal. So, my crazy TV-brain conclusion?” She leaned in. Her next words were a breath, almost lost in the ventilation’s rattle. “You really are carrying the CEO’s dragon babies, aren’t you?”
The world constricted. The fluorescent lights buzzed louder. The word, said aloud in this mundane, toner-scented box, was both a relief and a terror.
Taichi’s control shattered. A shaky, hysterical laugh escaped him. He nodded, once, a jerky, helpless movement. “Yeah,” he croaked. “Yeah, I am.”
Hana’s eyes went wide. All the playful suspicion evaporated, replaced by sheer, unadulterated shock. “Holy shit,” she breathed. “Holy. Shit. It’s real? The… the dragon thing? It’s not a metaphor?”
“He has scales,” Taichi heard himself say, the absurdity waterfalling out. “And claws. And his eyes… they change. And there’s a nest. In the penthouse. It’s mostly silk. It sounds ridiculous.”
“It sounds impossible,” Hana corrected, but she was nodding, her brain visibly recalibrating everything she knew about the world. “Okay. Okay. So the… the clutch? Is that what you call it?”
Before Taichi could answer, the temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. The shadow from the frosted glass partition stretched, deepening, thickening, completely out of sync with the overhead lights. It slid across the floor, swallowing the scattered scuff marks and paper scraps, until it pooled at their feet.
The photocopier let out a high-pitched whine and emitted a single, blank page.
They both turned.
Ryuu filled the doorway. He hadn’t opened the door. He was just there, his form blocking all the light from the hallway. His suit was immaculate, his expression calmly inquisitive, but his eyes… his eyes were a molten, ancient gold, the human pretense utterly gone.
His gaze fixed on Hana.
“You are in my mate’s space,” he said. The words were quiet, layered with a resonance that vibrated in Taichi’s teeth. It wasn’t entirely a human voice.
Hana took an instinctive step back, bumping into the paper tray. She was brave, but her face had paled. “I was just—“
“She’s my friend,” Taichi blurted out, stepping forward, placing himself slightly between Hana and the looming presence in the doorway. The movement was reflexive. Protective.
A low sound emanated from Ryuu, not quite a growl, but the precursor to one. The vibration made the light fixtures tremble. “She knows.”
“I told her,” Taichi said, holding his ground. His heart was a frantic bird against his ribs. “She guessed.”
Ryuu’s eyes shifted to Taichi, and the intensity softened by a fractional degree. The possessive fury banked, but didn’t disappear. “It is a secret that could get him killed,” he stated, direct and cold, his eyes back on Hana. “Or taken. There are those who would slice him open to see what grows inside.”
Hana’s hand flew to her mouth. “I would never—“
“Your intentions are irrelevant. Knowledge is a leak. A risk.” He took one step into the room. The space seemed to shrink further. “He is mine to protect. The clutch is mine to safeguard. You have inserted yourself into that duty.”
“Ryuu, stop,” Taichi said, his voice firmer than he felt. “She’s not a threat. She’s… she’s Hana. From Marketing. She brings me coffee.”
Ryuu’s lip curled, a disdainful expression for the mundane reference. But he finally looked at Hana as a person, not just a risk factor. He assessed her: the genuine fear in her eyes, the protective way she’d subtly shifted closer to Taichi again despite her own terror.
“I’m not going to tell anyone,” Hana said, her voice remarkably steady. “Who would I tell? HR? ‘Just a heads-up, but the CEO is a literal dragon and he’s knocked up my friend in accounting’? They’d have me committed.”
A beat of silence. The insane reality of the statement hung in the air.
Then, Ryuu did something unexpected. He gave a single, short, sharp exhale that was almost a laugh. The terrifying pressure in the room lessened, just a notch. “You have spine,” he acknowledged, a grudging respect in his tone. “For a human.”
“Thanks… I think.” Hana eyed him warily. “So, what now? You incinerate me to keep your secret?”
Ryuu looked at Taichi. The question was in his eyes. Yours to decide.
Taichi felt the weight of it. The trust. He looked at Hana, his only tether to the normal life he’d once had. He saw no deceit, only stunned loyalty and a dawning, ferocious concern.
“She stays,” Taichi said, his voice clear. “She stays my friend. You can’t… you can’t take everything, Ryuu.”
The dragon lord considered this. The gold in his eyes swirled. “Then she is under my protection as well. And my law. You speak of this to no one. You will be watched.” His gaze was iron. “If your loyalty falters, if you cause him a moment of distress, you will answer to me. Not as your CEO. Do you understand the distinction?”
Hana swallowed hard. She understood perfectly. She nodded. “I understand.”
Ryuu’s attention returned fully to Taichi. The covetous, warming focus was back. He reached out, not to grab, but to gently smooth a hand over Taichi’s sweater, right over the curve. The proprietary touch made Taichi shiver. “You should not be standing. You’re fatigued.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re swaying.” Ryuu’s arm slid around his waist, supportive, unshakable. He looked at Hana one last time. “We will have dinner. Tonight. My home. You will see the nest. You will understand the stakes fully. Do not be late.”
It wasn’t an invitation. It was a summons.
He guided Taichi past her, out of the copy room. As they crossed the threshold, the jammed photocopier beeped once and began spewing out perfect, uninterrupted copies.
Hana stood alone, surrounded by the hum and the smell of ozone and warm paper. She picked up her coffee, her hand trembling slightly. She took a long, shaky gulp.
“Dragon babies,” she muttered to herself, a wild laugh bubbling in her throat. “I’m going to need a lot better wine for this dinner.”