Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 860

Chapter 860: The Hedgehog Spines, First Kiss

Instead, I said something else, let’s not rush, shall we?

"You tap your pen against your desk when you’re thinking. Always three times, always the same rhythm. You take your coffee with exactly two sugars but you tell people you take it black because you think it sounds more professional. And when you’re really stressed, you organize things that are already organized—I watched you alphabetize a stack of folders that were already alphabetical."

Her mouth was slightly open. "I don’t—"

"You did it twice. Once with the folders. Once with the pens in your drawer."

"Those pens were not—" She stopped. Frowned. "Okay, maybe they were already organized. But they weren’t organized correctly."

"There’s a correct way to organize pens?"

"By ink color, then by barrel color, then by brand."

"Charlotte."

"What?"

"That’s insane."

"That’s efficient."

"Those are not the same thing."

She was laughing now—really laughing, the kind that crinkled the corners of her eyes and made her whole face light up. "You don’t understand. If I need a blue pen with a black barrel, I need to know exactly where—"

"Has that ever happened? Have you ever needed that specific combination?"

"...No."

"So you’ve created an elaborate organizational system for a scenario that has never once occurred."

"I like to be prepared!"

"For the great pen emergency of 2026?"

"You’re mocking me."

"I’m appreciating you. There’s a difference." I grinned. "Most people organize their desks. You’ve created a taxonomy. A classification system. David Attenborough could narrate your pen drawer."

Charlotte snorted. Actually snorted, then immediately covered her face with both hands.

"Oh God. I snorted."

"You did."

"In public."

"In a very expensive public."

"I’m a CEO. I don’t snort."

"You absolutely snort. You just did. I heard it. The sommelier heard it. That woman at the bar definitely heard it."

She peeked through her fingers. "Do you think they’ll revoke my business license?"

"Probably. ’Charlotte Thompson, stripped of her title for undignified nasal emissions.’ It’ll be front page news."

She dropped her hands, laughing helplessly. "You’re the worst."

"I’m the best and you know it."

The food came. Course after course of French perfection.

Amuse-bouche: a single bite of salmon tartare that melted on the tongue.

First course: a soup so velvety it was basically silk in liquid form.

Second course: scallops seared to golden perfection.

Charlotte ate. Actually ate—not the polite picking at food that she did during business dinners, but real, genuine enjoyment of every bite. She made small sounds of appreciation that she probably didn’t realize she was making.

Closed her eyes when the flavors hit just right.

I watched her. Not in the calculating way I watched targets. Just... watched. The way the candlelight played across her features. The way she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The way her lips curved around her fork.

This woman. This sweet, brilliant, impossibly good woman.

She deserved this. Deserved someone paying attention to what made her happy. Deserved terrible jokes about pen organization and expensive wine and a night where the weight of a $2.4 trillion company wasn’t sitting on her shoulders.

She caught me staring. Raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Nothing." I smiled. "Just thinking about hedgehogs."

"Hedgehogs?"

She set down her fork. "I’m going to need you to explain that, because I’m pretty sure you just called me prickly."

"Not prickly. Protected." I leaned back in my chair. "Hedgehogs are soft. Incredibly soft—they have the gentlest fur underneath all those spines. But the world kept trying to hurt them, so they evolved armor. Learned to curl into a ball and wait for the danger to pass."

"Here’s the thing about hedgehogs, though," I said. "If you earn their trust—if you prove you’re not going to hurt them—those spines flatten. The defensive ball uncurls. And what you find underneath is the softest thing you’ve ever touched."

"Princess," I finished. "You’re our princess, Charlotte. Everyone’s princess."

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