[BL] Transmigrated as the Villain CEO's Mermaid Secretary

Grayson entered the assembly hall like a force of nature wrapped in a bespoke suit. His black hair was styled neatly. Though Neville noticed immediately that something was different about it—longer, perhaps?

His silver eyes also seemed to be more—lively?

Grayson’s gaze swept across the assembled crowd, lingering briefly on the board members. Director Cox’s smile tightened almost imperceptibly. Director Hannel suddenly found something fascinating about the floor.

Then those silver eyes landed on Neville.

Then Grayson was crossing the room toward him, and Neville had to remind himself to breathe.

He inclined his head respectfully as Grayson approached. "Mr. Maxwell. Everything is prepared as requested."

"Good work." Grayson’s voice was smooth and deep.

Up close, Neville confirmed his suspicion—his hair was definitely longer and slightly wavy at the edge.

"Any issues I should be aware of?" Grayson asked, snapping him back to the present.

"None so far." Neville hesitated, then stepped closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Though I understand there’s been some... concern regarding Mr. Goelet’s absence."

Grayson’s expression didn’t change, but Neville caught the slight tightening around his jaw. "I’m aware. It’s being handled."

"Of course." Neville didn’t push further.

Whatever "handled" meant when it came from Grayson, he trusted it would be thorough—probably involving Julius and the Hidden Guards.

[Ooh, I love it when he gets all mysterious and commanding! 10/10, would watch him ’handle’ things again.]

Neville mentally flicked Shelly away like an annoying notification.

He didn’t need an additional distraction commentary; he had work to do.

Grayson turned to address his entourage, voice dropping to a murmur that Neville couldn’t quite catch. The executives nodded, their expressions serious, and began dispersing toward their designated positions.

Bryan caught Neville’s eye and gave him the slightest nod.

It seemed to be a preventive shot, Neville realized, watching their movements. Grayson was preparing them for whatever was about to happen in this meeting. But was it something he already knew, or was there something more lurking beneath the surface?

Either way, they wouldn’t expect what would happen later.

Neville thought this with a degree of anticipation. His hand brushed against the small device hidden in his pocket.

If things went the way he suspected they might, someone was going to have a very bad day.

And that someone was not going to be him.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

The next hour passed in a blur of arrivals and greetings—more board members filtered in, followed by external partners and collaboration stakeholders.

Neville navigated the crowd like a fish through water. He smiled at the right moments, said the right things, and all the while maintained constant awareness of Grayson’s position in the room.

From his vantage point near the entrance, Neville observed a conversation unfolding between Grayson and Director Cox. He couldn’t hear the specifics from this distance, but the tension was visibly thickening based on both men’s postures.

Director Hannel hovered at the side, his expression that of a man caught between two forces he couldn’t get in between and desperately wishing he was anywhere else. He might prefer facing down a Zerg swarm on the front lines than being in this particular confrontation.

Grayson, by contrast, looked like a predator toying with its prey. That slight smile on his lips, the lazy tilt of his head. It was the expression of someone who already knew how this game would end and was simply enjoying the journey.

But something was different about Grayson today, Neville thought again, frowning slightly. Apart from the hair, there was the energy around him. He looked livelier than before.

"Hope."

He turned to find Iris at his elbow.

"Yes?"

Before Iris could say anything, a ripple of attention spread through the assembly hall, and heads turned toward the main entrance.

Unlike when the others entered, or they were hush-hush, this time the conversations just increased in volume. But it was not enough to be deafening like those at concerts.

Neville followed the collective gaze and felt his stomach perform an uncomfortable flip.

George Hewitt had arrived.

The CEO and Chairman of HW Corporation entered the hall with ease. His silver-streaked hair was swept back from a face that wore age like a badge of honor, sporting his dark suit. The aura around him had the weight of decades spent accumulating power and the absolute certainty that came with knowing how to use it.

For a moment, Neville found himself almost impressed.

But then he remembered the secrets this man was hiding. His body count, his choice of women, and their tragic endings. The disgust that rose in Neville’s throat was immediate and visceral, though none of it showed on his face.

Behind George, walking with considerably more enthusiasm but equal poise, was Keaton Hewitt.

The eldest young master of HW Corporation was looking around the assembly hall. His eyes scanned the crowd with purpose, and when they found what they were searching for, they lit up with undisguised delight.

Neville felt the weight of that gaze. Their eyes met halfway across the room, and Keaton’s smile bloomed like a flower opening to the sun, extremely pleased.

[Oh my! This is like watching a drama unfold in real time! Should I get popcorn? I feel like I should be eating popcorn!]

’Focus, Shelly.’

[I AM focused! Focused on the DRAMA!]

Neville smoothed his expression as George and Keaton approached. Iris stepped forward to greet them.

"Mr. Hewitt, young master Hewitt—welcome to Maxwell Corporation. We’re honored by your presence at today’s meeting."

George inclined his head.

"The honor is ours. Maxwell Corporation has always been a worthy partner in advancing the interests of the Imperial Star." His eyes swept over Neville briefly, assessing and dismissing in the same glance. "We’re not late, are we?"

"Of course not, sir," Neville responded, keeping his tone respectfully blank.

George nodded once and swept past them toward the cluster of board members where Director Cox was already positioning himself to intercept.

Iris followed, duty-bound to attend to this ’important’ guest regardless of personal feelings.

Which left Neville standing alone.

Well, not entirely alone.

Keaton approached him without any of the restraint his father had displayed. His stride was confident, unhurried. In his hands—

Neville blinked.

It was a bouquet.

Not just any bouquet, either. This was an extravagant arrangement of real alien flowers. The kind of bouquet that costs a small fortune and requires connections to acquire.

"For you," Keaton said, "Congrats."

His most charming smile firmly in place as he presented the flowers to Neville with a slight bow. "I heard that you’re going to be the star of this event. Quite the achievement."

Neville stared at the bouquet as it might bite him. Several nearby attendees had turned to watch, their expressions ranging from curiosity to poorly concealed speculation.

A gift this extravagant, this public—it only means one thing.

But Neville highly doubted that it was given to him with the same meaning. After all, Keaton expressed his intention to hire him before.

"Eldest Young Master Hewitt," he managed to say, swallowing the annoyance inside him since they were in public. "This is... unexpected. And unnecessary."

"Just call me Keaton." The smile on his face didn’t waver. "And I disagree. Excellence deserves recognition. You’ve been working tirelessly for this event, haven’t you?"

[Is he... is he worried about you? That’s either really sweet or really creepy.] Shelly muttered with uncertainty.

’Not now, Shelly.’

"I appreciate the gesture, but I’m simply doing my job," Neville said neutrally, accepting the bouquet because refusing it in public would cause an even bigger scene. The flowers were surprisingly light, though their fragrance was almost overwhelming for his mermaid senses.

"And that’s exactly what makes you remarkable." Keaton leaned in slightly, lowering his voice to something approaching intimate. "Most people do the minimum required. You exceed expectations as naturally as breathing. It’s... refreshing."

What the fck do you even know about me?

Then, Neville felt his danger senses were prickling. Not because Keaton seemed threatening—quite the opposite.

Dealing with enemies was straightforward. Dealing with someone who seemed to have genuine feelings?

That would just complicate things.

"I’m sure there are many people who could exceed these expectations," Neville said, taking a careful step back under the guise of adjusting his hold on the bouquet. "Eldest Young Master Keaton. I don’t mean to be rude, but I have things to attend to. Perhaps we could continue this conversation at a more appropriate time?"

"Of course," Keaton said as he gave a knowing smile.

He reached into his suit jacket and produced a small card, which was made with a gold plate and had a QR code etched on it.

"My private contact information. For when you find yourself with a free moment. They’re rare, I know. But I’d like to think I’m worth making time for."

The card joined the bouquet in Neville’s hands.

Before he could say anything further, Grayson magically appeared behind Keaton and grabbed him by the collar.

"Your seat," Grayson said, eyes glinting at Keaton, "is over there."