Evil MC's NTR Harem - Chapter 613

Chapter 613: Chapter 613 Pen
Eventually, Jade exhaled softly and gave a small nod. “Okay,” she said, her tone calm, composed.

There was no smile, no hint of playfulness in her voice — just a businesslike acceptance. Still, that was a victory in itself.

She wasn’t pushing him away. She was keeping him close, if only just enough to remind him that she wasn’t someone to underestimate.

“I figured you’d see the value in that,” Thomas said, lips curving into a self-assured grin.

Jade turned away from him without answering and picked up the office phone. She pressed a button, waited a beat, and then spoke.

“Call Brandon up. I’m going to need his services today.”

Thomas tilted his head slightly, intrigued by the name. Brandon?

She hung up and sat back, meeting his eyes with a faint, unreadable smile.

“Bringing backup?” he asked casually, his curiosity piqued.

“Let’s just say,” Jade replied, her voice cool as glass, “I prefer not to drink alone with men who bring billion-dollar deals and hidden intentions.”

Thomas chuckled under his breath. “Fair enough. I admire a woman who stays ten steps ahead.”

“I’m always ten steps ahead, Thomas,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. “You’d be wise to remember that.”

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Her secretary peeked in. “Mr. Brandon is on his way up.”

“Thank you,” Jade said, then glanced at Thomas again. “Shall we head to the lounge?”

Thomas rose from his seat and adjusted his cufflinks. “Lead the way.”

As they walked out of the office, Jade’s heels clicked with sharp precision across the polished floor, echoing through the quiet hallway.

Thomas followed beside her, one hand in his pocket, the other gently adjusting his tie. The deal had been made, the money was on the table — but now came the real negotiation.

And neither of them was planning to lose.

Naturally, the walk to the lounge wasn’t silent.

Thomas, ever persistent, filled the air with his smooth, measured charm.

His words danced between flirtation and wit, never overtly aggressive but always suggestive — each sentence carefully crafted to poke at Jade’s composure.

He complimented her laugh, her business acumen, even her stride, all under the guise of harmless conversation. But both of them knew better.

Jade didn’t fall for it. Not outwardly. Her responses were clipped, professional, peppered with just enough amusement to keep things civil.

She didn’t scold him or call out his intentions — that would’ve meant acknowledging them. Instead, she let his words slide past her like water off polished marble.

Still, Thomas wasn’t discouraged. He wasn’t the type to give up after one failed pass — especially not when he could still feel the tension in the air.

It was faint, but there. A spark buried beneath her cool exterior, smothered by years of discipline and pride, but not fully extinguished. He’d seen it before.

He could read it in the way she paused a heartbeat too long after a compliment, or how her eyes occasionally flicked toward his mouth when she thought he wasn’t looking.

She was still affected. Just like all the others. She just didn’t want to admit it.

They reached the exclusive executive lounge on the upper floor — a hidden gem within the building known only to a few.

The moment the glass doors slid open, the atmosphere shifted.

The soft, rich sound of jazz music floated through the air, and warm, ambient lighting cast a golden sheen across the plush leather seating and polished mahogany finishes.

It was the kind of place where deals were whispered over aged scotch, not hammered out in boardrooms.

Behind the marble-topped bar stood a quiet, middle-aged bartender in a crisp white shirt and black vest, polishing glasses with practiced rhythm. He glanced up and gave them a nod of acknowledgment — friendly but reserved.

This lounge rarely saw traffic. It belonged to Jade’s company, and since most of her employees were young women more focused on climbing the corporate ladder than sipping cocktails, the space was often empty.

Still, the bartender was content. The pay was generous, the hours were easy, and the company — when it did arrive — was interesting.

Thomas surveyed the room approvingly. “Now this,” he said, “is a proper setting for a celebration.”

Jade simply nodded, leading him to one of the private rooms tucked away near the back.

It was intimate but not too small — dimly lit, with velvet-lined walls, a low table, and two curved leather armchairs placed just close enough to invite conversation, but not quite close enough for comfort.

A beautiful hostess entered shortly after with menus in hand.

She greeted them with a soft smile and waited patiently as they placed their orders — whiskey neat for Thomas, and a gin and tonic for Jade. Once she was gone, a brief silence settled between them.

Then the door creaked open again.

But it wasn’t the hostess returning.

A hulking figure stepped through the doorway, immediately altering the entire energy of the room.

He was massive — well over six feet, with shoulders like boulders and a chest that stretched the seams of his dark, custom-fitted suit.

His face was hard, expressionless, with eyes that scanned the room in a slow, calculated sweep.

Brandon.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t smile. He simply nodded once at Jade, then positioned himself in the corner of the room, arms crossed over his broad chest. Like a statue — or a warning.

The temperature seemed to rise with his presence, or maybe it was just the sudden pressure of being in the same room as someone who looked like he could snap a man in half with his bare hands.

Thomas raised his eyebrows, slowly turning to Jade. “So this is Brandon?”

Jade sipped her drink without looking back. “My insurance policy.”

Thomas let out a low chuckle. “Remind me never to miss a payment.”

Brandon didn’t move. Didn’t blink. He just watched, impassive and silent — a human monolith whose only job was to be there and make his presence known.

Thomas wasn’t intimidated, exactly, but he respected the move. It was smart.

A woman in Jade’s position couldn’t afford to let her guard down, especially with someone like him in the room.

Thomas had heard plenty about Ross Oakley’s infamous bodyguards — they supposedly numbered in the hundreds, a small army hidden in plain sight.

At first glance, Brandon looked like just another one of them. Another overpaid, overbuilt watchdog trained to follow orders and throw punches when needed.

But then Thomas took a longer look.

There was something different about this one — something subtle, yet unmistakable.

He’d seen it before, countless times during his missions overseas. It was in the posture, the stillness, the eyes.

“This man has seen blood,” Thomas realized, narrowing his gaze.

Brandon wasn’t just muscle. He was a killer — the kind who didn’t flinch, didn’t hesitate, and didn’t lose sleep over a broken neck.

His eyes weren’t just cold — they were dead. Void of emotion. Void of hesitation. The kind of eyes that had stared down the barrel of a gun more times than Thomas could count.

And right now, those eyes were locked on him.

Brandon was looking at him like he wasn’t even a threat — just another corpse waiting to happen. A dead fish, ready to be gutted and fried.

Thomas held his gaze a moment longer, then leaned back slowly and took another sip of his drink.

So this wasn’t just another dog.

This one had teeth.