“Is everything okay?” I asked hesitantly, glancing up at him.
He didn’t answer right away. Just kept watching me.
Something about him felt… off.
I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.
He lifted his spoon, dipping it into the soup. Not an ordinary spoon, of course—real silver, carved into a perfect circle.
“Now that you’ve graduated, what’s your plan?”
“I start my job in two weeks’ time.”
He swallowed his soup, but his eyes stayed wide. Like the idea of me having a job was somehow shocking.
Did he think I was lazy?
I focused on my bowl, letting the silence stretch.
“Where?” he demanded.
“BLM Tech.”
His spoon paused mid-air.
“You got into BLM Technologies?” he asked, incredulous.
“Yes. Would you like to see the offer letter?”
“The international company?”
My eyes flicked up to meet his. His tone was bordering on insulting.
“Do you have a problem with my new position of employment?”
“You’ve just come out of university. You have no experience,” he said with a shrug, like it was obvious.
“Actually, I’ve been consulting with them on a neural interface project through one of my professors,” I said evenly. “She introduced me, and the rest was history.”
His face went still. Blank. Like I’d just started speaking in code.
I almost laughed—but something about the way he stared at me, all coiled tension and calculation, made me hold it back.
“They must’ve offered you a good salary,” he said finally.
“It’s generous,” I replied with a shrug. “And I get to work from home.”
“Is that right?” he drawled, lips curling—half-smirk, half-snarl.
I didn’t answer. My chicken soup was getting cold, and frankly, his questioning was getting old.
He’d never given a damn before—so why start now?
The soup was still warm. We both ate in silence, and I made a conscious effort not to slurp. Voss was all about prim and proper, I remembered that much.
I tilted the bowl slightly to catch the last few spoonfuls.
“Would you like some more?” he asked.
