Devilish secretary - Chapter 220

Chapter 220: Chapter 220 Asher
Alexander sat frozen, eyes locked on the boy in front of him.

The boy looked barely eighteen…youthful, sharp, and unshakably handsome. His soft black hair curled slightly at the ends, falling just above his piercing blue eyes. His brows were perfectly shaped, adding to the mystery behind the black mask he wore.

He was dressed in a black shirt tucked into fitted pants, a long dark coat flowing behind him as he moved with an effortless grace. There was something elegant and yet dangerous in the way he carried himself. Almost… familiar.

Alexander’s gaze narrowed the moment the boy sat down across the table and slowly removed his mask.

And that’s when his breath caught in his throat.

That jawline. Those light pink lips. The bone structure.

He looked…no…he almost felt like Lilith.

Not completely. Not enough to be mistaken as her twin, but there was something in the shape of his face… the curve of his cheekbones… the way his eyes held fire behind ice.

“You’re…?” Alexander asked, his voice low, guarded.

The boy blinked at him, his accent thick, his words awkward.

“Asher,” he said. “I… nice to meet you.”

He held out a gloved hand, and Alexander shook it slowly, studying his expression.

“Sebastian.”

For a moment, there was silence as their hands lingered..analyzing, comparing, searching.

And then, Asher frowned. He tilted his head slightly, looking Alexander up and down…not rudely, but curiously. As if trying to figure something out.

Alexander, used to being the one who did the observing, felt oddly exposed.

Why is he staring like that…?

Asher’s brows knit closer together. “You look… different than I thought,” he muttered.

Alexander raised an eyebrow. “Than you thought?”

Asher just nodded, his lips pressing into a line.

He wasn’t threatening. But there was something wild, ancient, and clever behind those sea-blue eyes.

And for the first time in a long time… Alexander felt the unsettling feeling that he was being studied.

Asher kept frowning, his sharp eyes scanning Alexander’s face like he was trying to solve a very difficult math problem. He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table, then opened his mouth to speak.

“I… I look you. Very look.”

Alexander blinked. “…What?”

“I mean—I see you. No—wait.” Asher’s expression twisted with frustration. “You… you are not ugly.”

Alexander raised one brow, confused and slightly amused. “Thank you…?”

Asher shook his head quickly, waving his hand. “No no. I mean—you look… okay. But… I thought more big? More strong? But you…” He pointed at Alexander’s chest and made a tiny shape with his hands, like squeezing a marshmallow.

Alexander stared.

Asher squinted again. “You… not look evil. You look like… soft bread.”

Alexander choked. “Soft… what?”

“Soft bread,” Asher repeated seriously, as if that explained everything. “Outside cold. Inside maybe butter.”

Alexander let out a low laugh despite himself. “Are you calling me a croissant?”

Asher looked proud. “Yes! Exactly. Croshant.”

Alexander covered his mouth to hide a grin. He didn’t know who this boy really was… but this might be the first time someone insulted and complimented him in the same sentence.

Asher blinked, realizing something. “Oh. Did I say wrong?”

“You said everything wrong,” Alexander said, chuckling. “But somehow… I understood.”

Asher smiled sheepishly. “English… hard. But I try. You… okay croshant.”

Alexander leaned back, still smiling. “You’re weird.”

Asher tilted his head expressionlessly. “I know.”

Asher sat quietly, his piercing blue eyes fixed on Alexander. His posture was still, but his mind seemed to be spinning behind those calm features.

Alexander leaned forward slightly, gaze sharp. “So, you wanted to meet me today? After I’ve asked you many times before and you always vanished…why now?”

The boy didn’t react at first. But then, after a pause, he nodded and replied in his low, awkward English…

“Wanted to meet… face in face.”

Alexander raised a brow, lips twitching with amusement.

“You mean face to face, genius.”

Asher shrugged without care, clearly not bothered by small errors.

Just then, Alexander’s phone rang. He glanced down at the screen…Lilith.

He lifted a finger to signal wait and picked up the call in front of Asher, not seeing any need for secrecy.

The moment the call connected, her voice exploded through the speaker:

“No, why the heck did you bring back Sir Sparkleton here too???”

Asher’s head snapped up at the name on the screen..Lilith. His expression tensed, and his fingers twitched slightly on the table.

Alexander sighed, not the least bit sorry. “Lili… he’ll take care of you. And besides, he’s not easy to dispose of. Technically speaking, he’s high-level electronic waste.”

There was a pause on the other end.

“I knew you’d say that! You just enjoy watching me suffer, don’t you?!” she snapped, though there was a familiar warmth in her tone that revealed she wasn’t really angry.

Alexander smirked. “Well, maybe I just don’t like the idea of you being free from him…” he paused, voice dipping lower, “…or from me.”

Asher’s jaw tightened.

Alexander saw it. He noticed everything.

“Lilith, I’ll call you back.” His voice softened a bit, then he ended the call and put his phone aside.

“You know her…” Alexander asked casually, though his sharp gaze tracked every flicker of change across Asher’s face…his tense jaw, the slight change in his eyes, the pause that lasted a beat too long.

Asher’s lips parted, then shut again. “No…” he said stiffly, almost like the word hurt coming out. Then, without meeting Alexander’s eyes, he stood from the chair. “We met… I go. I have journey.”

His English was broken, but his stride was smooth and confident as he turned and walked away without waiting for a response.

Alexander didn’t stop him.

He just sat there in the quiet café, one leg crossed over the other, fingers resting on his knee, eyes unreadable as he watched the boy disappear around the corner.

The soft clink of a spoon on porcelain was the only sound in the space now.

But Alexander’s mind wasn’t quiet.

His brows lowered slightly, lips tight.

That face. That energy. That voice.

It lingered in his head like a whisper.

He didn’t have proof. Not yet.

But deep in his chest, a guess began to form.

A quiet suspicion that refused to go away.

“Who are you really, Asher…” he muttered to himself, voice low.

And more importantly—

What is your connection to my Lilith?