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

"I’m sorry, could you repeat that?"

"From today onward, you’ll be promoted to my personal secretary."

Neville felt his jaw actually drop. He quickly snapped it shut, but the damage was done.

"Mr. Maxwell." He struggled to keep his voice consistent. "The entire company will oppose this."

This wasn’t an exaggeration.

He had been working at Maxwell Corporation for barely past a year, and the secretarial department alone was full of people who had been there for five, ten, even fifteen years.

Bryan Stewart himself had served as Grayson’s aide-de-camp during his military days before transitioning to his current position as Chief Secretary. The political backlash from such a sudden promotion would be massive.

"Let them oppose." Grayson’s expression didn’t change. "I’ll announce that you performed exceptionally during the recent crisis and proved yourself worthy of the position. Your handling of the HW Corporation situation, the company corruption, and the Black Ocean Project presentation—there’s more than enough evidence of your capabilities."

Neville stared at him. "Isn’t that... cheating?"

The corner of Grayson’s mouth twitched.

Was that—was that a smile?

"Consider it a thank you." Grayson’s voice dropped, and it had a slightly soft undertone to it.

"And a bribe for keeping my secrets." He continued cheekily, "Please take care of me from here on out."

Oh no.

Neville absolutely could not afford to be moved by this. But the offer itself—a personal secretary position meant unlimited access to Grayson.

He could monitor Grayson’s condition, have an opportunity to be beside him at least every day, accumulate favorability points, and experiment with different interactions.

And he wouldn’t need to get too... intimate and desperate about it.

The word lingered in his mind, bringing with it flashes of memories during those forgotten moments.

Neville shook his head a little.

None of it mattered now. He was just torturing himself by thinking about it.

A professional relationship, close proximity without the complication of romance—he could work with it.

"I accept." The words left his mouth before he could think it over again.

Grayson nodded, something like satisfaction flickering in eyes. "Good. We’ll make the announcement tomorrow."

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

The next few days taught Neville exactly what it meant to be CEO Grayson Maxwell’s personal secretary.

In short: corporate slavery with extra steps.

His workstation was relocated inside Grayson’s office, the infamous "Bryan’s second desk" that sat in the corner like a permanent fixture.

It was a sleek console with holographic displays and direct access to the Maxwell Central System. It was positioned strategically so that Neville could see both the door and Grayson’s desk at all times.

Bryan, on the other hand, retained complete control of the workstation just outside, managing the broader operations of the secretarial department and the company.

The arrangement meant that Neville spent every working hour in the same room as Grayson.

Every. Single. Hour.

"The H contract needs your signature by the end of business today." Neville set a stack of holographic displays on Grayson’s desk. "Director Williams is requesting a meeting about the Phase 2 budget allocations. Chief McCartney needs approvals for the press release regarding the Black Ocean Project. You also have an unknown call scheduled at 1400 hours."

"That one can wait until 1500." Grayson didn’t look up from his current holographic display; his fingers hadn’t stopped working by the second. "Push back Williams meeting to tomorrow. Tell McCartney she can proceed with the original draft."

"Understood." Neville’s fingers flew across his light brain, updating the schedule.

This was his life now.

An endless cycle of meetings, documents, and the constant, oppressive awareness of Grayson’s presence merely meters away.

He was so close that Neville could smell Grayson’s fresh water pheromones. It was a subtle leak, but it was still a leak.

It was infuriatingly pleasant that he couldn’t help but take a few deliberate sniffs. But he constantly reminded himself not to breathe too deeply, so as not make it too obvious.

The opposition to his promotion came, as expected, when it was announced.

Director Sanchez made pointed comments during a private meeting with Grayson.

Director Mille questioned whether someone of Neville’s tenure could truly handle the responsibilities.

Even Chief Saini, who was usually neutral in office politics, raised an eyebrow when the announcement was made.

Their arguments all circled the same point: Neville hadn’t been working at Maxwell Corporation long enough to warrant such a rapid promotion.

Grayson shut them down with his characteristic bluntness.

"Hope is serving as my personal secretary," he said, his tone spoke of his authority. "He tends to my schedule and immediate needs—nothing more. This is not a promotion to department head, nor does it give him authority over secretarial operations. Bryan remains Chief Secretary. If you take issue with how I choose to structure my personal support staff, you’re welcome to submit a formal complaint to HR."

But no one submitted a complaint.

Because they knew, like everyone, that his capabilities had already been demonstrated and proven to the whole company.

The Black Ocean Project presentation alone had showcased his strategic thinking and technical knowledge. His handling of the recent corporate crisis had earned grudging respect from even his critics.

Managing Director Cox’s schemes, coordinating with multiple departments, keeping things under wraps while half of the executive board was under investigation, was enough testament to that.

Their objections were exactly what he had predicted: tantrums against rapid promotion, not genuine concerns about competence.

Still, knowing that didn’t make the whispered conversations in hallways any easier to ignore. It didn’t make the sidelong glances from his colleagues any less irritating.

Neville threw himself into the work instead.

The black hell hole had prepared him for exactly this kind of challenge. Every skill he had acquired there, every piece of knowledge the system had force-fed into his brain, could now be applied to serving Grayson Maxwell.

He memorized the CEO’s preferences within days—documents organized by priority and then by sender importance. Meetings were never scheduled back-to-back; Grayson required a minimum fifteen-minute buffer to reset between discussions.

He learned to read the subtle changes in Grayson’s expression, to anticipate needs before they were voiced, to smooth over potential conflicts before they erupted.

It was a masterful performance.

And he absolutely hated every second of it.