Voren had stayed away on purpose. After that morning in the outlands, the way she had put her sunglasses back on and thanked him like he was a business associate who had held a door open for her, Voren had made a decision. Give her space. Let her breathe. Don’t be the thing that makes her uncomfortable.
And he had kept to it for days.
But he missed her, told himself that was the only reason he was here was because of the proposal. Five hundred billion deal was a good enough reason to be let into her office.
When her secretary informed him that Seraphine was in her office with Corvine, something dropped in his chest that he didn’t have a clean name for. Heavy and uninvited and completely unreasonable. He stood outside the door for maybe three seconds, then pushed it open without knocking.
He already knew what he was going to find and there it was. Seraphine’s arms around Corvine’s shoulders, her head slightly down, and Corvine’s arm around her like it had been there a thousand times before and expected to be there a thousand more.
Voren stood in the doorway and felt something move through him that had no business being there. This wasn’t the first time. It wasn’t even the second. And she wasn’t his.
Voren had no claim, no standing, no rational reason for the way looking at them together felt like something pressing directly on a bruise.
He set the proposal on the edge of her desk. Didn’t look at her face. His voice came out flat and clipped.
"Let’s talk." His eyes moved to Corvine. "Your office."
Seraphine pulled back from Corvine and turned away, reaching up to clear her face. Voren kept his eyes off her deliberately.
"You can look through that while I’m gone." He nodded once toward the document. "I’ll be back."
He walked out first, his whole presence carrying that particular cold energy that lowered the temperature of whatever room he was in.
Corvine glanced at Seraphine once, a look that said several things without saying any of them out loud and followed, the door clicked shut behind them.
Corvine’s office was tidy in the specific way of someone who preferred order but wasn’t rigid about it, everything in its place but lived in. Voren didn’t sit. He turned around the moment he heard the latch catch and looked at Corvine straight on.
"I’ve asked you this before." His voice was controlled, even, and underneath the evenness was something that wasn’t quiet. "But I’m asking again. What exactly is going on between you and Seraphine? Because the closeness... it’s too much."
Corvine looked at him for a long moment.
Then he laughed. The short, quiet one that carried genuine disbelief in it, the kind that came out when something was so ironic it bypassed irritation entirely.

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