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"Someone has to make sure you eat something besides sugar and caffeine," she countered, eyeing my energy drink. "Real food occasionally won't kill you."

"Debatable," I muttered, but the corner of my mouth twitched.

Ana circled the office, appraising the screens and modern design. "It suits you," she said finally.

"We're still on for tonight?" she asked, glancing at her watch. "I have to run. Meeting with the hospital board in twenty minutes."

"Wouldn't miss it," I assured her, surprised by how much I meant it. "Eight o'clock at the children's hospital fundraiser, right?"

She nodded. "I've already told everyone my brother will be there."

She hugged Vincent goodbye, then hesitated before giving me a quick, slightly awkward embrace. Progress. Small steps toward normal, whatever that meant for us.

As she left, I found myself staring at the plant she'd brought and smiled. It was a peace lily. Very on brand for Ana.

"She's recovering well,” Vincent observed .

"Better than I would have predicted," I admitted. "Must be genetics."

"Must be," Vincent agreed, his eyes returning to me. "Now, where were we before we were so politely interrupted?"

Something in his touch, casual yet possessive, sent heat pooling low in my belly. I rounded the desk, closing the distance between us.

"I've been thinking about this moment for days," I admitted, backing him against the desk's edge. "Since they first told me this office would be mine."

"Have you?" Vincent's voice dropped lower, his pupils expanding as I moved into his space. "And what exactly were you thinking?"

I placed my hands on the desk on either side of him, caging him with my body. "I was thinking about christening my new domain properly." I leaned in, my mouth a breath away from his. "I need to make this space mine. Erase all traces of him."

Vincent understood immediately. His hands came up to frame my face, his expression softening. "Then let's replace those memories with new ones."

His mouth crashed against mine, hungry and demanding. I pushed against him, backing him toward the desk. His hands slid up my chest, finding the loose knot of my tie.

"Lock the door," he gasped between kisses.

I reached behind him without breaking contact, pressing the button that secured all entrances to the office. The subtle click released something in Vincent. His movements grew bolder, more demanding.

"I've been thinking about this too," he admitted, his voice rough with desire. "You, in this office. In charge."

I smiled against his neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. "You like me in power, doc? "

"I like you claiming what's yours," he corrected, fingers tangling in my hair.

I spun him around suddenly, pressing him face-down over the desk. His surprised gasp turned into a moan as I molded myself against his back, rubbing my rapidly hardening cock against him.

"Hands on the far edge of the desk, Dr. Matthews," I instructed. "Don't let go, no matter what."

Vincent complied immediately, stretching his arms forward to grip the opposite edge of the desk. The position displayed him beautifully, vulnerable yet willing. I pressed my palm against the small of his back while my other hand worked his belt open.

"What happens if I let go?" he asked, the challenge in his voice unmistakable.

I leaned down, my lips brushing his ear. "Then I stop. And I don't think either of us wants that."

His knuckles whitened on the desk edge. "Noted."

I took my time undressing him, peeling away layers until his pants and underwear pooled around his ankles. My hands explored the newly exposed skin, appreciating the contrast of his bare skin against the sleek, modern desk.

"Beautiful," I murmured, pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck. "Mine."

Vincent's breathing quickened, his body responding to my touch, my words. "Yes."

I retrieved a small bottle of lubricant from the top drawer. Vincent's surprised laugh turned into a moan as I prepared him thoroughly, my fingers working him open. "You came prepared." He gasped as I curled my fingers inside him, finding that spot that made him arch beautifully .

"I always plan ahead." I scissored my fingers, stretching him carefully. "It's why I'm so good at my job."

His laugh transformed into another moan as I added a third finger. "And which job would that be? Director or—oh god—or assassin?"

"Both," I replied, withdrawing my fingers to unfasten my own pants. "But right now, I'm focused on a much more important position."

I moved behind him, my cock nudging against tight muscle.

His breath hitched, suspended between anticipation and surrender.

I pushed forward, the pressure building until that exquisite moment when resistance crumbled and his body swallowed me inch by inch, heat wrapping around metal and flesh alike.

Vincent's cry ricocheted off glass and steel as I filled him completely.

His spine arched, muscles trembling beneath my palms. His fingers maintained their death grip on the desk edge, knuckles white against the pristine surface.

I paused, giving him time to adjust, my hands gripping his hips firmly enough to leave marks.

"Remember," I murmured, dropping a kiss between his shoulder blades, "don't let go."

I started moving, establishing a rhythm that made the desk creak slightly beneath us. Each thrust pushed Vincent forward, testing his grip on the edge. He responded beautifully, pushing back against me, taking me deeper.

"Fuck, Luka," he gasped, his composure crumbling with each stroke. "Harder."

I obliged, increasing my pace, my hands leaving bruises on his hips. The position gave me perfect leverage to hit that spot inside him with every thrust. His moans grew louder, less controlled, his usual professional demeanor obliterated by pleasure .

"That's it," I encouraged, one hand sliding up his back to tangle in his hair. "Let me hear you."

Just as Vincent's cries reached a crescendo, the phone on my desk rang, its shrill tone cutting through our private symphony. Vincent froze beneath me, his head turning slightly.

"Ignore it," he pleaded.

I glanced at the display. It was an internal line from the security division. Something that couldn't wait.

"Can't," I replied, reaching for the phone without breaking my rhythm inside him. "Important."

Vincent stiffened as I answered mid-thrust, eyes growing enormous. Almost comical.

"Director Aleksandar," I answered, my voice remarkably steady despite the exquisite heat gripping my cock.

Vincent bit my palm in retaliation, his body clenching around me. I stifled a groan, tightening my grip on his hip in warning.

"Sir, the security protocols for the Eastern District need your authorization," came the voice on the other end, completely unaware of what their director was currently doing. "The previous systems are being decommissioned, and we need approval to activate the new ones."

I thrust particularly deep, watching Vincent's mouth stretch in a silent cry under my restraining palm. "Approved," I replied calmly. "Implement immediately."

"Yes, sir. And regarding the personnel transfers?"

I picked up my pace, driving into Vincent with renewed vigor while continuing the conversation. His muffled moans vibrated against my palm as he struggled to stay quiet, his body trembling with the effort .

"Proceed as planned," I instructed, watching Vincent's fingers turn white where they gripped the desk. "Send the final reports to my inbox."

"Will do, sir. Thank you."

I hung up without further pleasantries, removing my hand from Vincent's mouth. He immediately gasped for air, a string of creative curses falling from his lips.

"You—absolute—bastard," he panted, each word punctuated by a thrust. "I can't believe you just—"

"Multitasking," I replied, leaning over to bite his shoulder gently. "I'm very good at it."

His laugh turned into a desperate moan as I shifted angles, hitting that perfect spot inside him. "Clearly."

I reached around to take his cock in my hand, stroking in time with my thrusts. "I think you liked it," I whispered against his ear. "Being fucked while I conducted business. My dirty little secret right under their noses."

His full-body shudder told me I was right. Vincent—proper, ethical Dr. Matthews—had an exhibitionist streak he was only beginning to explore.

"Close," he warned, his voice wrecked.

"Not yet," I commanded, slowing my pace to a torturous crawl. "Not until I say so."

He whimpered, frustrated but obedient. I continued the slow, deliberate pace, dragging the metal bars of my piercings against his sensitive nerves with each controlled movement. The desk beneath us no longer felt like furniture—it was an altar where we consecrated my new reign .

When I finally increased my pace again, we were both on the edge, control fraying with each thrust. Vincent's moans had turned desperate, needy, the professional therapist completely undone.

"Now," I finally granted, my hand working his cock faster. "Come for me."

Vincent shattered beautifully, his release spilling over my hand as his body clenched rhythmically around me. The sight of him coming undone on my desk pushed me over the edge. I buried myself deep, my own orgasm crashing through me in waves as I marked him from the inside.

For several moments, we remained frozen in place, both catching our breath. I pressed my forehead between his shoulder blades, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

"Still holding the desk?" I asked, my voice rough.

Vincent laughed weakly. "Haven't let go once."

"Good boy," I murmured, pressing a kiss to his spine before carefully withdrawing. I helped him stand, turning him to face me. His face was flushed, hair disheveled, lips swollen from biting back moans. Such a beautiful mess.

I kissed him deeply, tenderly, a contrast to our frantic fucking moments before. "You okay?"

He nodded, hands coming up to frame my face. "More than okay. Though I may never look at your desk the same way again."

"That's the idea." I tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. "Every time I sit here, I'll remember this."

We cleaned up with tissues from my desk drawer, straightening our clothes. Vincent fixed his tie while I reluctantly adjusted my own.

"Remind me why we're wearing these torture devices again?" I asked, tugging at my collar .

"Ana's fundraiser tonight," Vincent replied, smoothing his jacket. "Eight o'clock."

I nodded, remembering my promise. "Right. Children's hospital."

Vincent moved around the desk, examining the multiple monitors with interest. "This setup is impressive. Very you."

"Functional," I agreed, watching him explore my domain. "Efficient."

I bent to retrieve something that had fallen during our fucking, a pen that had rolled beneath the desk. As I straightened, something caught my eye. A small black object, no larger than a button, nestled against one of the desk supports.

"What's this?" I muttered, examining the device.

A surveillance bug, expensive and sophisticated, designed to blend with the desk's black surface.

"Someone's been listening," I said, crushing the device between my fingers. The delicate electronics crumbled, rendered useless.

Vincent's eyes widened. "To... everything?"

"Probably." I examined the crushed remains, lowering my voice. "This isn't standard Pantheon surveillance. External. Professional grade."

"Zeus?" Vincent whispered, the name carrying new weight since Rhadamanthys's warning.

I gave him a warning look. Walls have ears, even when you think you've found them all. I continued my search. My hand unconsciously moved to my pocket, fingers brushing against the coin hidden there.

I swept the office methodically, muscle memory from a hundred searches guiding me.

Two more bugs surfaced—one nestled in the light fixture, another clinging beneath my chair like a technological tick.

I crushed each between my fingers, relishing the snap of delicate circuitry.

Forty-eight confirmed kills, and now electronic eavesdroppers made forty-nine through fifty-one.

"They're watching already," Vincent observed, his expression grim. "Your first day as director."

"Good," I replied, dropping the crushed components into the trash. "Let them watch. Let them listen. It changes nothing."

Vincent studied me, concern evident in his eyes. "You're a target now."

"I've always been a target." I moved to him, taking his hands in mine. "The difference is now I have something worth fighting for."

He squeezed my hands, a small smile breaking through his concern. "We still have a few hours before Ana's fundraiser," he noted, glancing at his watch. "What's next on the director's agenda?"

I considered the crushed bugs, the coin in my pocket, the reforms waiting to be implemented. Challenges and dangers in every direction. But for now...

"Ordering some goddamn Trolli gummy worms," I declared, reaching for the phone. "Can't run an assassination organization without proper sugar intake."

Vincent stepped behind me, arms circling my waist, chin resting on my shoulder as I placed the order. "You know, I was thinking about that day you showed up at my door covered in blood."

I laughed. “I thought for sure you’d never trust me. Especially after I lied to you about my name and everything.”

His lips brushed my neck. "But look at us now. You're sitting in his chair. Your sister remembers who she is. You've broken every chain he ever put on you."

I turned in his arms, facing him. "Not without help. "

"No," he agreed, his eyes holding mine. "But you made the choice. That first day in my office when you decided not to kill me. Every step since then. Those were your choices, Luka."

My throat tightened. I cupped his face in my hands, struck again by this miracle—that after everything, after all the blood and violence, I'd somehow found this. Found him.

"I love you," I said simply, the words still new enough to feel strange on my tongue.

"I love you too," he replied. "Even if you are the most dangerous director in Pantheon history."

"Especially because," I corrected, kissing him lightly.

"So," Vincent said, "did you choose your official designation yet? Every director needs their Greek deity name, right?"

I nodded. "Ares. God of war." I shrugged at his knowing smile. "Seemed fitting. Direct. No bullshit. Just war and bloodshed when necessary."

"Perfect for you," Vincent agreed. "Though I half expected you to choose Hermes, just to annoy everyone with your unpredictability."

"Considered it," I admitted. "But Ares felt right. Besides, the old guard expects me to be bloodthirsty. Might as well lean into it."

Tomorrow would bring challenges. Resistance to my reforms. More surveillance. Perhaps even direct threats from whoever had bugged my office. But for now, I had this—my space, my Vincent, my sister returning to herself, and the freedom to choose my own path for the first time in twenty-six years.

Let them come. I was ready.