Damian's POV
I was seated in my executive chair before 9 p.m., engaging my mind in a thrilling game of guessing. Which directors would complete their work easily? Which ones would narrowly escape my trap? And which unlucky souls would fall into my devil’s torture ditch?

Surprisingly, each director arrived one after the other to submit their work. The last person managed to submit a second before the clock struck 9 p.m.

My eyes widened in amazement as I observed them—their eyes heavy with dark bags, skin pale as if petrified, movements sluggish and unsteady. They looked like they’d just walked off the set of a zombie apocalypse movie.

"Emma, count the files again," I commanded, wanting to confirm they were all accounted for.

"Twenty, sir," she replied.

I nodded. "So everyone submitted," I muttered to myself, wondering if they had been driven by fear of losing their jobs or sheer terror of me.

A thought crossed my mind. Perhaps they had rushed through their work, producing mediocre results just to avoid punishment. If I meticulously reviewed these files, I might find someone deserving of discipline.

A devious smile crept onto my face as I picked up the first file. "Hmm... interesting," I murmured, grinning as I read the opening lines.

***

After thoroughly reviewing all the files, I summoned my directors for a meeting.

"Let’s begin," I said, watching as everyone fixed their eyes on me. Their faces were puffed up like overblown balloons, desperate to release their pent-up tension. The atmosphere was so dense, it felt like it could be sliced with a knife.

Clearing my throat, I began, "I scrutinized your files, and..." I paused dramatically, taking in their terrified expressions—some looked as if their souls were about to leave their bodies. "...I’m impressed. I knew it wasn’t a mistake that I picked this team," I said smugly.

They exhaled deeply in unison, some clutching their chests in relief.

A mischievous smirk tugged at my lips. It was amusing how quickly they felt safe when I wasn’t finished talking. "Nevertheless, you’ll all be punished," I said casually.

Their eyes widened in shock, their faces pale as if they’d seen a real-life dinosaur.

Lacing my fingers, I leaned forward with a smile. "Relax. It’s a mild punishment. Rather than resting for the remainder of the week, you’ll continue working on the next project while I take a four-day break," I explained.

The thought of waking up without an alarm, free from buzzing deadlines and endless projects, felt amazing. Spending time with Bentley... perhaps he’d finally decide on the job he wanted. Eating three square meals of his cooking... I was already planning my mini staycation in my mind.

A break would be nice.

***

"What?" I gasped, jolting awake. "I’m going to be late," I murmured, rubbing my forehead. Then I remembered yesterday’s events and chuckled.

I grabbed my first phone from the bedside table and checked the time. My dilated eyes narrowed in disappointment. "Still woke up at 7 a.m.," I grumbled.

I had expected this. My brain was too conditioned to my usual schedule. But I wondered if Bentley was awake. The tantalizing aroma of breakfast burritos wafted through the air, and my mouth watered as I imagined how they’d taste.

"Breakfast time," I muttered, getting out of bed. After a quick shower, I dressed in casual clothes and took the elevator downstairs.

Bentley emerged from the kitchen, his eyes widening in surprise. "Oh! Damian, I was about to wake you up, but..." He trailed off, glancing at my attire. "Aren’t you going to work today?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.

"No, I’ll resume next week. I’m on break," I smirked.

"On break, huh? How was yesterday? Did you get to punish some people?" he asked curiously.

A sly grin spread across my face. "Indeed, everyone got their punishment," I said, nodding in satisfaction.

"Everyone?" Bentley’s lips parted slightly. "So no director completed their work?" he asked, his brows furrowing in confusion.

"Not quite; they all did great work... but I punished them anyway," I said with a chuckle.

"T-That’s kinda cruel, don’t you think?" Bentley muttered, shifting away from me.

"Relax. It’s nothing extreme—just a mild punishment," I reassured him.

Bentley exhaled in relief. "Well, that’s good to know," he said, walking back to the kitchen. "Hungry?"

"You just read my mind," I replied, following him.

Bentley handed me a plate. "Dig in," he said with a smile, watching me expectantly.

I took a bite of the perfectly wrapped burrito. Each mouthful was a delightful combination of berries, soft eggs, and melted cheese—a creamy burst of deliciousness. It was the perfect way to start the day.

"This is good... so good," I said, taking another bite.

"Thank you. Your reviews mean so much to me," Bentley said, smiling brightly.

He watched me from the corner of his eye as we ate. It was obvious he wanted to say something, so I spoke first. "Is there something you want to tell me? You’ve been staring noticeably."

Bentley flushed in embarrassment. "Oh! Sorry. Was it that obvious?" he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yes, it was," I replied.

"Well... I was offered a job yesterday," he announced.

"What? Where? That’s great news!" I said, studying his skeptical expression. "Do you like the job?"

Bentley sighed. "I don’t know yet. I love the warm, welcoming environment, but... I don’t think I’ll be able to buy a house anytime soon if I take it," he explained, bowing his head.

A short silence hovered in the air, heavy with uncertainty, as though waiting for reassurance.

I met Bentley’s gaze. "Look, if you love the job, then go for it. I’ll give you all the time you need to get a new place... but for now, my home is yours," I said, watching his brown eyes widen and a faint blush creep onto his cheeks.

Author's note:
Sometimes I wish I could taste Bentley's cooking too. Sighs

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