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"The human witnessed abilities beyond what she should have. I've arranged a meeting to discuss the situation and maintain protocol."

"See that you do." Pyke's gravelly tone leaves no room for argument. "Our intel suggests the Grolgath are planning something major along the Pacific coast. We can't afford any risks right now."

"Understood. I'll contain this." My jaw tightens as I cut the transmission.

Contain it. Such a clinical term for the delicate situation with Tyler. Just the thought of her sends an unexpected fluttering through my core. I push it aside, focusing on the matter at hand. Assessing risks, formulating contingencies - this I can handle with the tactical precision drilled into me since birth.

And yet...a persistent voice whispers that this is more than a mere risk to be neutralized. Tyler isn't some nameless human to be manipulated then discarded. She's...different. Special, in a way I can't quite define.

I shake my head, disgusted with myself. I'm letting this tiny female cloud my judgment. Ridiculous for a warrior of my stature. I'll meet with her as planned, lay out the facts, and ensure her silence through whatever means necessary. Then I can refocus on my mission without these irritating distractions.

Yes, that's the logical path forward. Simple, efficient, effective. So why does the thought of wielding such cold utilitarianism against Tyler's warmth fill me with a strange sense of disquiet?

I tap my compad, connecting to the Golden Odyssey's bridge.

"Captain Soanzo."

"Yes, Mr. Ramone?"

"Have the yacht ready to sail by eight-thirty tonight."

"Of course, sir. Should I have the helicopter fueled as well?"

"Absolutely. I have an important business meeting this evening."

A pause stretches over the line. I can picture Soanzo's weathered face breaking into that knowing smirk he wears whenever he thinks he's figured something out.

"Would this business meeting happen to involve another celebrity? Perhaps that new pop star who's been making headlines?"

My jaw clenches. The old salt knows me too well - or thinks he does. True, my reputation for entertaining the rich and famous aboard the Golden Odyssey is well earned. But Tyler...

She's different. No designer clothes or practiced smile. Just genuine warmth and that spark of curiosity in those blue eyes.

"Just have everything ready, Captain."

"As you wish, sir." The amusement in his voice makes me want to growl.

I end the call before I say something I'll regret. Soanzo may be right about my intentions having nothing to do with business, but he's wrong about everything else.

I tap my compad, connecting to my tailor’s shop on the 87th floor. The holographic projection of Marco, my personal tailor, flickers to life. He’s a wiry man with a perpetually harried expression, but his hands are steady as they adjust the lapel of a suit jacket.

“Marco, I need options. Now.”

“Mr. Ramone,” he says, his voice a mix of exasperation and deference. “You’re not giving me much time. What’s the occasion?”

“A date,” I say, the word feeling foreign on my tongue. “Something... understated but striking. And don’t bring me anything black. I’m not attending a funeral.”

Marco raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment. “I’ll be up in ten minutes.”

True to his word, Marco arrives with a rack of suits, each one more luxurious than the last. He wheels them into my office, the fabrics catching the light in a way that makes them shimmer like liquid.

“Alright,” he says, clapping his hands. “Let’s start with this one.” He pulls out a deep navy suit with a subtle pinstripe. “Classic, timeless, and it brings out your eyes.”

I shake my head. “Too corporate. Next.”

He sighs and moves to the next option—a charcoal gray suit with a velvet lapel. “This one’s got a bit of edge. Perfect for a billionaire with a reputation.”

“Too... predictable,” I say, dismissing it with a wave of my hand.