My jaw drops.
The elevator doors open and a group of men in suits steps out, and I immediately realize they’re his senior managers. Theycame here from other Malden branches. There’s no chance to comment further.
Blue and I enter the conference room.
There’s a massive oval table. Blue takes a seat on one side, and the men settle along the curve.
Luckily, there’s an open spot next to Simon, who is already sitting slightly to the right, against the wall behind Blue, in his usual brown suit, adjusting his glasses from time to time.
I sit down beside him. He gives me a curious look, but aside from a brief ‘good morning’, he says nothing. He’s holding a tablet with notes and a calendar open.
Since my class is about to start, I connect and switch to headphones, though in the corner of my vision I can still see Blue’s small frame, his profile, his delicate fingers moving across the tablet.
And just like that, the meeting begins.
???
The next few days I spend with Blue don’t differ much from the previous one, except that this week there are no more outside meetings. All contractors and clients come directly to his office, which is located behind the first door to the left of the large company logo.
So that’s where I spend my time, listening to how Blue handles people. His approach is extremely efficient and strict, fast, direct, case closed, no dragging things out, maximum results in minimum time.
There are only two breaks, both for meals, which are delivered for Blue and me. We sit down together. The food is excellent, I eat with enthusiasm, and I regularly compliment his father’s kitchen, which Blue acknowledges with a raised brow and a nod, nothing more.
Every evening, around nine, Simon comes in one last time, and they go over the day again, discuss the next one, and put together a plan.
After Simon leaves, Blue and I return to the penthouse alone.
There’s something strangely pleasant about it when all his employees disappear and it’s just me left with him, creating a faint, unfamiliar sense of intimacy. Or maybe I’m just imagining it.
Since our small mathematical challenge, my perception of Blue has shifted.
I see him now as someone truly exceptional, even more worthy of protection. Minds of his caliber don’t appear every day. They’re like rare gems. Sure, my ego took a slight hit when I realized I can’t think on that level of abstraction, but I’m grounded enough to appreciate someone else’s talent without turning bitter or trying to diminish it just to feel better.
When we sit down to dinner and I see him leaning over his plate, still immersed in company matters, emails, voice messages, constantly glancing at his tablet, I suddenly ask,
"Has your life always looked like this? Work from eight in the morning to nine at night, short breaks for meals and swimming, then going back home where… nobody’s waiting?"
Damn. That came out strong. Pretty invasive.
Blue lifts his eyes from a plate of steamed mussels in white wine with garlic and parsley, served in an aromatic broth.
I look into his sapphire irises and sigh. "Sorry, I shouldn’t be talking about this. It’s none of my business, but it comes from my own perspective on life. I’m… very family-oriented, you know? I’ve never been able to imagine a life without someone by my side. I always lived with my brother Marlow or one of my cousins who went to the same college. I trained with my friend Archer or my cousin Veyron. I preferred company over beingalone… that’s when depression would hit me. I need contact with people."
Blue keeps watching me, then says slowly,
"You see… other people can’t fill the emptiness within us, Gabriel. I have my work and my passion, which happen to be the same thing. You could say my work is my life partner, and it has always been enough."
I study him, his dark navy hair, soft, silky strands falling to his shoulders, his face so pale and delicate…
He rarely smiles, and when he does, it’s more of a smirk. Is it really possible to live like that, just work and nothing else?
"I don’t know how you handle it," I murmur. "I suffered when I had no one. Even physical touch has always mattered to me. In a way, I got it through training, through sparring with another person. It’s something that’s always been important to me. Touch."
"People are full of bacteria and viruses. I don’t need to deal with that," Blue says, half ironic, half serious.
I raise my brows slightly. "Right, I remember. I once read that you’re a germaphobe, which is strange considering you know all kinds of medicine. You could cure everything," I add a little sarcastically.
"Perhaps, but why risk it? By the way, the word ‘germaphobe’ has a dismissive tone. People use it to label someone as a freak. Meanwhile, during a single handshake, you can transfer tens of millions of bacteria, especially if someone touched a phone or a doorknob earlier. That’s a scientific fact."