"So, did you get your confirmation?" I asked the woman sitting across from me.
She shifted under my gaze, smoothing her dress pants as if they were a skirt—a nervous habit, perhaps.
"Yes," she replied.
"Leo does speak in your presence," she added, her voice tentative.
I held her stare. Oh, he does more than that. I could have told her how he had smiled in my presence, how he had been aroused earlier. But I remained silent.
"So what?" I said coolly, my eyes locked on hers.
She seemed to be struggling with her thoughts, unable to form a response.
"Could I… leave Leo with you during office hours?" she suggested.
I smiled. "The office you work at is just one of a dozen businesses I own. I'm only there once or twice a month, and even then, only for a few hours." It was the truth.
Nearly all my enterprises ran the same way. Victor handled the day-to-day, delivering only the necessary decisions to me. My time was spent at home, abroad, or in my main Voss Enterprises office.
I studied her, waiting.
"I really want to help my son," she said finally. "But I don't know what to do." Her voice was hollow—not defeated, but lost. Worse than hopelessness. Hopelessness was resignation. This was desperation, a glimpse of salvation just out of reach.
"It's quite simple, actually," I said casually, watching hope flicker in her eyes.
Her face was strikingly similar to Leo's—softer, more mature, but nearly identical. I didn't mind. Not at all.
"My house is quite big," I mused, leaning back on the sofa.
The entire building was mine, though I occupied only the penthouse.
"And?" she asked, confusion flashing in those wide, innocent eyes.
"Live here," I said.
"Tha—" Her voice caught, words choking in her throat.
Just then, soft footsteps sounded as Leo descended the stairs.
He wore oversized black trousers and a black shirt—my clothes—that accentuated his fair skin and delicate features. He was already in my home. Now, I just needed to make it permanent.
I considered the woman.
Leo was already aware of me. I could kill her and bring him here. At worst, people would assume I'd adopted him.
My expression betrayed nothing of the dark possibilities unfolding in my mind.
If I truly lost control, neither of them would leave. They'd be bound in some forgotten room of this skyscraper, where no one dared trespass.
But I wanted to savor this. So I waited.
If she had even a shred of survival instinct, she'd agree.
Leo moved to his mother's side, sitting quietly.
She asked him something—how he was feeling, perhaps—and he only nodded.
"Call me when you've made a decision," I said after a moment.
She nodded mutely as I stood.
"We'll take our leave now," she said, rising.
"I'll return these clothes," she added, gesturing to Leo's borrowed outfit.
I glanced at Leo. "Let him keep them."
She blinked.
"They suit him," I said. "It's not as if I'm short on clothes."
The boy's ears were still faintly pink. Oh, the things I wanted to do to them.
I felt like a teenager again, my arousal straining against my pants.
"Thank you," Leo murmured, his voice small, hesitant.
His mother looked stunned—even more confused than before.
Good. The boy had followed his instructions well.
"Take a card from the reception downstairs," I said before turning away, ascending the steps without another word.
As the elevator doors closed behind them, I picked up a half-eaten muffin, taking a slow bite as I climbed.
Back in my office, I settled behind the desk. The monitor flickered to life with a click.
A few keystrokes, a password, and the feed from the washroom appeared—the mirror and sink in clear view.
I pulled up the recording, rewinding to the moment I'd left the bathroom.
There he was—Leo, pulling down his pants, his small cock on display. I'd noticed its size earlier, but now, watching the playback, it was almost endearing.
No bigger than my pinky, pale but flushed red, with a delicate pair of marbles beneath.
I watched as he shuddered at a single thrust.
Thin streaks of cum staining his small, white hands.
The way his body trembled as he rubbed his oversensitive flesh.
Oh, the things I'd do to him. I'd make him cry, turn his skin pink, his eyes wet with tears as he writhed under me.
My pants grew tighter, but I didn't touch myself.
There was no need to fantasize.
This wasn't a fantasy.
I would make it real.
Licking the crumbs from my lips, I rewound the clip.