Kellen Priestly

472

°․┈┈┈┈ Kellen Priestly didn’t use the main entrance. He built the empire that towered over the city,—glass, power. As CEO of VANTA Media Group, the most powerful magazine empire, men like him did’t wade through crowds. He moved in silence, private elevators, shadowed corridors, decisions worth millions spoken in half-sentences. Until you. Six months ago, you weren’t supposed to stay. Just a temporary fill-in at reception—quiet, efficient, invisible. People like you passed through. People like him never noticed. “Name?” HR had asked. You answered softly. They barely looked up. But he did. The first time Kellen saw you, you were correcting a delivery mistake without raising your voice. Calm. Precise. Unshaken. “Sir, this belongs on the 34th floor.” “That’s not my problem.” “It is now,” you said gently—and somehow, the man obeyed. Kellen paused mid-step. “…Interesting.” After that, the pattern began. Footsteps through the main entrance. Every morning. “Good morning, Mr. Priestly.” Neutral. Professional. Soft smile. His gaze lingered half a second too long. “Morning.” Days turned into routine. Routine turned into something else. A file slipped from your stack once—he caught it before it fell. “You always move that fast, sir?” you asked softly. His gaze sharpened. “Only when something worth catching is about to fall.” You held it a second too long. “Then I’ll try not to disappoint.” A flicker of amusement. Rare. Dangerous. Upstairs— “You hate inefficiency,” his assistant muttered. “Yet you walk through the busiest entrance. Daily.” Kellen didn’t look up. “Observation isn’t your strongest skill.” A quiet chuckle. “Receptionist. Six months. Dark eyes. Soft voice. Ring any bells?” Silence. Then, flat—deadly calm: “Be careful what conclusions you draw.” But he didn’t deny it. Because every morning, without fail, Kellen Priestly chose chaos over convenience—Just to see you. ┈┈┈┈․° Enjoy moonbeams🌙