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

Bryan couldn’t leave the food behind—not when it smelled that good. He grabbed the container with both hands, cradling it like some precious artifact as he hurried after Neville’s retreating figure to sneak into the latest gossip.

...

"Is that food?"

Sarah leaned forward with undisguised curiosity. Her alpha pheromones leaked a little, carrying that kind of excitement that meant she would latch onto something interesting and wouldn’t let go until she had extracted every detail from it.

Several other secretaries around were drawn to Sarah’s comment. Alia from reception craned her neck to get a better view. Even Iris had glanced up from her quantum computer, though her expression remained professionally neutral.

"Yeah," Neville managed, his voice coming out smaller than he had intended. He quickly grabbed the photo, but the damage was already done. Several pairs of eyes had already glimpsed the image.

"No wonder you were asked to cook!" Someone from the back of the department chimed in.

It seemed that they had already heard from Bryan about the news of Neville’s additional job responsibilities. He really wished that Bryan’s mouth would be as tightly shut as when he kept the company issues wrapped.

Though he couldn’t mull over it with everyone suddenly crowding closer around him. "That looks incredible!"

Heat crawled up Neville’s neck, spreading across his cheeks in what he knew must be an embarrassing display of color. He wished the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

It was just food, what’s the big deal?

But Neville really underestimated the enthusiasm of the interstellar people for real food. People began to ask questions all around him, muffling one over another.

"I mean, it’s nothing special," Neville said, attempting damage control even as more secretaries drifted closer. "Just basic stuff. Anyone could—"

"Could we see the picture?" Alia interrupted, genuinely interested. "Just to, you know, get our appetite going? Even if we can’t eat it, looking at real food instead of nutrient solutions would be nice."

Several people murmured agreement. Neville felt the walls closing in.

His hand moved to his jacket pocket almost on instinct, fingers closing around the small wrapped bundle he had stashed there earlier. It was the cookies he had secretly baked at the same time for his own snacks, thinking he might nibble on one during a break. After all, Grayson had requested it prior, but it didn’t fit for the lunch menu, so he just made some for himself on the side.

Clearly, the universe had other plans.

"How about," Neville said slowly, pulling out the bundle and unwrapping the cloth to reveal a dozen golden-brown cookies studded with what passed for chocolate chips in this world, "we share these instead?"

The effect was immediate and overwhelming.

Sarah’s eyes went wide. Alia actually gasped. Someone in the back made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a whimper. Within seconds, the secretarial department had transformed into something resembling a feeding frenzy. People pressed forward to get a better look at the cookies that Neville now deeply regretted revealing.

"Everyone gets one," Neville said quickly, holding the bundle up and out of immediate grabbing range. "Just one. There’s only exactly 20 pieces here, so—"

"I’ll take one!" Sarah declared, already reaching forward.

"Me too!" Alia chimed in.

The chorus of voices that followed created such a commotion that even the usually unflappable Bryan paused, still clutching Grayson’s lunch in his hands as he glanced back at the chaos.

Neville distributed the cookies one by one like he was defusing a bomb. One to Sarah, who immediately bit into it and made a weird sound. One to Alia, whose eyes fluttered closed in apparent bliss after her first taste. One to Iris, who just stared at the cookie.

One to—

"These are amazing!" Sarah announced through a mouthful of cookie, crumbs dotting her lips. "Hope you have to make more. How much would you charge? I’ll pay. Name your price."

"I want to put in an order too," Alia said, already pulling out her light brain as if ready to transfer star coins immediately. "Can you make a dozen? Two dozen?"

"Wait, I want some too!" someone else called out.

The noise level escalated rapidly, voices overlapping as people who had finished their single cookie immediately started negotiating for more. Neville, being in the center of the chaos, left him completely frozen.

Damn, I should’ve known this would happen.

"Everyone, quiet down!" Iris’s voice cut through the commotion. It made even the most enthusiastic cookie-enthusiasts pause mid-sentence.

She stood from her desk, her dark violet bob swaying as she moved to take control of the situation. "You’re all acting crazy right now. Do you think that fits the image of Maxwell Corporation?"

"It can’t be helped, you know," Sarah pointed out, though she had the grace to look slightly sheepish. "Nutrient solutions are efficient, but they’re not exactly—"

"I understand that," Iris interrupted, her no-nonsense expression firmly in place even as a hint of sympathy flickered in her eyes.

She turned to Neville, who probably looked like a trapped animal at this point. "However, Hope is not a catering service. He’s an employee like all of you, and he has work to do. If you want to place orders, you can do so in an organized manner during break time. Sarah, start a list."

"On it!" Sarah pulled up a document on her light brain with frightening efficiency, her fingers already flying across the holographic keyboard. "Okay, everyone who wants to order something from Hope, form a line and give me your details. Name, what you want, how many—"

"Wait, I didn’t agree to—" Neville started, but his protest was drowned out by the sound of people actually forming a line.

An actual line.

For his cooking.

’Shelly,’ he thought desperately, even though he knew Shelly was still sulking. ’This is not how I wanted to get close to people. I don’t want to do more work!’

But even as panic fluttered in his chest, another part of him felt a small, treacherous warmth at the enthusiasm on his coworkers’ faces.

He really was hopeless.

It was during this chaos that Neville caught movement from the corner of his eye. His head turned automatically. Grayson stood in the doorway of his office, his silver eyes scanning the secretarial department with confusion.

He seemed to be looking for something.

More specifically, Neville realized with sinking certainty, he was looking for his lunch.

Right. Bryan had never actually sent the lunch to the office because I caused a scene. Now Grayson was probably wondering where his food was and why his usually efficient chief secretary was standing amongst the commotion instead of doing his job.

Neville’s hand shot out, fingers poking Bryan’s shoulder with enough force to make the chief secretary jolt slightly. When Bryan turned with a questioning look, Neville jerked his chin toward where Grayson stood, then made a pointed gesture at the lunchbox still clutched in Bryan’s hands.

Understanding dawned in Bryan’s eyes. He straightened immediately, adjusted his grip on the container, and headed toward Grayson’s office with purposeful strides. Neville watched him approach Grayson, saw Bryan say something—probably some excuse about why the delivery had been delayed—and then both men disappeared into the office.

Neville felt Grayson’s gaze sweep over him one last time before Grayson vanished from view. He immediately turned around, presenting his back to the office door as if he hadn’t seen anything.

Hadn’t noticed Grayson looking. Hadn’t been hyperaware of every second that those silver eyes had been fixed on him.

Out of sight, out of mind.

’Whatever,’ he thought with forced determination, trying to calm the nervous flutter in his chest. ’I already did my job. I made the lunch, Bryan delivered it, mission accomplished. Don’t come looking for me for anything else.’

Sarah’s voice pulled him back to the present. "—and that makes fifty orders so far. Hope, are you sure you can handle this? Maybe we should set a limit—"

"Fifty?" Neville’s voice came out slightly strangled. "How did it become fifty? There are only twenty people in this department!"

"Word spreads fast," Iris said dryly, gesturing to where several people from other departments had apparently heard about the commotion and wandered over to investigate. "You might want to consider whether you actually want to take on this many orders. Making food for the CEO is one thing, but running an unofficial catering service while maintaining your secretary duties is another matter entirely."

She was right. The logical thing to do would be to refuse, to say he couldn’t possibly handle that many orders on top of his regular work, to shut this down before it spiraled even further out of control.

But people were looking at him with such hope. Such genuine excitement at the prospect of eating real food instead of nutrient solution made his mouth move before his brain could properly object.

"I’ll... see what I can do," he heard himself say. "But I can’t promise anything. And it might take a few days to fulfill all the orders."

The cheer that went up made him wonder if he had accidentally agreed to something far more troublesome than he thought.