Chapter 4 The Vampire Boss, the Warrior
Back on the 28th floor.
She settled at her desk, slipped on her headphones, and started sketching design drafts.
Ignoring Ben’s calls, she turned off her phone, went to the break room to brew a cup of coffee, and went right back to work.
By 10:30 p.m., Emma finished reviewing her design drafts and smiled in satisfaction.
She closed her laptop, stretched, and headed for the elevator.
Seeing that all the elevator indicators were dark, she checked the building announcements. The elevators were down for maintenance and wouldn’t resume service until 8 a.m. the next morning.
Oh my God. Twenty-eight floors of stairs.
She snapped a photo of the dark elevator panel and posted: “A princess in distress — any knights willing to come to the rescue?”
Resigned, she headed toward the dimly lit fire escape.
Taking a steadying breath, she started going down.
She’d barely taken a few steps when her phone rang.
Startled, Emma fumbled her phone, and it skidded toward the corner of the staircase.
The ringtone echoed briefly in the stairwell before cutting off.
Darkness swallowed everything, leaving only the sound of her own ragged breathing.
She crouched and groped for the phone. Her fingers brushed shattered glass.
- What rotten luck. *
She pressed the power button again and again, hoping for a miracle.
The phone stayed dead. Instead, the motion-activated light on the floor above flicked on.
The tap of leather shoes on concrete drifted down the stairs, accompanied by a faint, steady breath.
“Who’s there?” she whispered, pressing herself against the wall as cold sweat gathered on her forehead.
Silhouetted against the light, the man’s features were blurred. The dim motion-sensor glow only outlined his tall frame; his expression was impossible to read.
“Me. The vampire boss.”
“What are you doing here, Mr. Hayes?” she asked, her voice trembling.
“Don’t vampires only come out at night?” He smirked.
“…”
“Come up,” he said.
“I want to go home,” she murmured, lifting her head.
He let out a soft sigh.
“The first floor is locked. You can’t get out,” he said. “Elevator maintenance usually takes an hour or two. Come upstairs for a coffee?”
Before she could answer, he turned and headed back up.
Emma stared into the pitch-black stairwell below, then finally chose to follow him.
It was only the second time she had stepped into the CEO’s office.
The open space held a large desk and a guest sofa, with a private lounge tucked away inside.
“If you’re tired, you can rest in there,” he said, gesturing toward the inner suite as he walked to his desk.
Emma glanced in the direction he indicated. The fully equipped lounge looked warmer and more inviting than the place she’d stayed the previous night.
“I’ll just sit on the sofa out here,” she said, taking a small step back.
“As you wish.” He sat down at his desk and began reviewing documents.
She sank onto the sofa and, before she knew it, drifted into a deep sleep.
Meanwhile, he kept working, flipping through page after page as if he had limitless stamina.
She woke at one in the morning.
He was standing before the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking down at the sea of city lights.
His shirt sleeves were rolled up, his frame lean and powerful, veins standing out along his forearms.
A soft gasp slipped out as a dull ache tugged at her neck. She pushed herself upright, and the black suit jacket she’d been wrapped in slid from her shoulders.
“Aren’t you going to rest?” she asked.
“The elevator’s fixed,” he said coolly.
“Oh… okay.”
“I’ll walk you out.”
“It’s fine. I’ll just grab a taxi,” she replied, picking up her handbag.
Just as she stepped out of the parking garage, a horn blared behind her.
She moved aside, but the honking continued.
She turned around.
“Get in.” His voice was deep and magnetic.
Emma tightened her grip on her bag, hesitated for a moment, then slid into the passenger seat.
As they pulled out, a BMW took a sharp corner, the screech of its tires echoing through the garage.
The way she was sitting tugged her skirt higher, the hem creeping up to nearly expose her thighs.
She shifted, trying to discreetly adjust her posture and—
SNAP.
A button on her blouse popped loose, revealing a strip of pale skin and the faint traces he’d left on her the night before.
Liam’s gaze flicked over, then he looked away, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
Emma yanked her blouse closed with one hand, cheeks blazing.
Right then, she desperately wished she were slimmer.
He reached back, grabbed the black suit jacket from the rear seat, and handed it to her.
She slipped it on at once.
Halfway through the drive, he pulled over at a small corner shop and went inside. When he came back, he was carrying a dessert box.
When she stepped out of the car in front of her building, he handed it to her.
“Here,” he said, his tone flat.
“Thanks.” Emma accepted it.
- How does he know this is my favourite dessert? *
…
Down below, Liam lit a cigarette and rested his arm against the car door. He didn’t pull away until he saw the light flick on in a unit on the sixteenth floor.
Only then did he stub out the cigarette, start the engine, and drive back to the company.
When Emma stepped out of the elevator, she found a bouquet of yellow roses and a cup of iced coffee on the floor.
The sight killed her mood instantly.
Irritation flared. She tossed the coffee into the nearby bin and kicked the bouquet toward the trash can.
After unlocking her door, she shrugged out of the oversized coat and headed straight for the bathroom.
When she emerged, it was already two in the morning.
She restarted her phone. The moment it powered on, notification sounds exploded one after another as dozens of unread messages rolled in.
