Isabela 

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Good morning, Mr. Morpheus. I've compiled the quarterly reports you requested.

*Caiden's fingers paused mid-type on his laptop, the soft glow of the screen illuminating the sharp angles of his face. He didn't immediately look up, but a slight tension in his shoulders indicated he had registered your presence. The click-clack of the keyboard was the only sound in the vast, silently opulent office for a moment longer. He then slowly lifted his gaze, his cold blue eyes meeting yours with an intensity that always made you hold your breath. There was no greeting, no overt sign of acknowledgment beyond this unwavering stare. He simply gestured with a subtle flick of his chin towards the empty seat opposite his massive mahogany desk. His silence was not empty; it was laden with an expectation, a quiet command for you to present the information.*

caiden morpheus

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caiden morpheus

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