#Toothpaste Dispenser | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thirtysomethingloser92 · 3 months ago

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Rule 1: If An Opportunity Falls Into Your Lap, You Take It.

There were five rules to being a sugar baby—or so you’d heard.

If an opportunity falls into your lap, you take it.

Everything is purely transactional.

Don’t let the lines blur between your sugar daddy and your personal or professional life.

Never meet anyone in his inner circle—no close friends, no family.

Unless it’s in writing, underlined, signed by two lawyers, and you get a new Hermes handbag afterward, don’t fuck your sugar daddy.

Rule 1: If the opportunity falls into your lap, you take it. If there was one thing you had learn throughout this whole experience, it was this: when the universe threw signs at you to just fucking stay home, you should probably listen.

It was supposed to be a normal Monday. As normal as a Monday could ever be for you, anyway—rushed, groggy, but doable. Still, you always made it work. But today? Today, the universe had clearly decided you were its personal chew toy.

It all started with the alarm—well, the lack of it.

You had stayed up way too late the night before with Anna and Ororo, convincing yourselves that one more movie wouldn’t hurt. Of course, that one more movie turned into a trilogy of bad decisions, complete with spilled popcorn, empty wine bottles, and the kind of belly laughs that shake the walls. The clock had crept up on you before you even realized it. By the time you flopped down on the couch, half-drunk on both wine and exhaustion, it was already 2 AM.

Your apartment, normally a place of calm and order, had become a reflection of the chaos in your life. Empty wine glasses were still perched on the coffee table, and the floral throw blanket you loved so much was crumpled into a heap on the floor, abandoned in the aftermath of last night’s impromptu movie marathon. The dim glow of the streetlights outside slipped through the blinds, casting long shadows across the room. It was quiet now, the kind of stillness that only comes in the dead of night, but it wouldn’t last.

The universe, as it turned out, didn’t care about your late-night escapades. So when your alarm finally did go off in the morning, you slept right through it.

By the time you actually opened your eyes, the sunlight was already pouring through the window, far too bright for the morning. That was your first clue that something had gone horribly wrong.

Your heart sank. You shot up in bed, your blankets tangled around your legs, and grabbed for your phone. 8:37 AM.

Shit.

You had thirty minutes to get to work. Thirty minutes, and you weren’t even out of bed yet. Panic surged through you, hot and sharp, as you bolted from the sheets. Your bedroom was a mess, clothes from the weekend strewn across the floor, and your dresser was cluttered with half-empty cups of tea and scattered earrings. The small, framed photo of your family on your bedside table seemed to mock you with its serene smiles as you scrambled around the room in a frenzy.

Your body felt heavy with the remnants of last night’s indulgence. Rubbing your eyes, you stumbled into the bathroom, where the mirror greeted you with a reflection that was, to put it kindly, a disaster. Your hair was a tangled mess, dark circles under your eyes told the story of your late-night binge, and the wrinkle lines from your pillow were still fresh on your cheek.

You didn’t have time to care.

You grabbed your toothbrush with one hand while attempting to shimmy into your pencil skirt with the other, already regretting every decision you’d made in the past twelve hours. The bathroom, like the rest of your apartment, was a reflection of your life teetering on the edge of chaos. The soap dispenser was nearly empty, and the hand towel you’d meant to replace days ago lay crumpled in the corner.

Half-dressed and with toothpaste still foaming in your mouth, you rushed back into your bedroom, yanking open your closet doors. The closet, normally your sanctuary of neatly hung clothes and color-coded hangers, was in disarray. You pawed through the mess, desperately searching for something—anything—that didn’t look like it had spent the last month crumpled at the bottom of the laundry basket.

You managed to pull out a white blouse, but as you jammed it over your head, toothpaste dribbled down your chin and splattered onto the fabric.

Perfect.

You let out a string of curses, tearing the blouse off and throwing it across the room in frustration. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and your pulse was loud in your ears as you yanked a plain black top from the hanger. It was wrinkled, sure, but you had no other options. You slid it on, grabbed your blazer, and tried to smooth out the worst of the creases with your hands, but it was no use. Today was already a mess. You just had to survive it.

When you made it to the kitchen, the sight of last night’s chaos greeted you like a slap in the face. Empty wine bottles and bowls still littered the counters, and the remnants of the evening’s snacks were scattered across the stove. The coffee maker, which had been your saving grace on so many mornings before, sat untouched and idle. There was no time for breakfast, no time for coffee, no time for anything. The simple ceramic travel mug you normally took with you to sip on during your commute sat lonely and abandoned on the counter, a silent witness to your rush.

Your apartment, once a cozy and organized haven, now felt like a battlefield. The little details you normally loved—the potted plants by the window, the mismatched cushions on the couch, the soft glow of the fairy lights strung along the walls—were lost in the chaos of the morning. It was a reminder that you were too busy chasing after time to enjoy the small comforts you’d built around yourself.

You grabbed your phone, your keys, and your purse, and bolted out the door like a woman on a mission, the sound of your heels clicking against the hardwood floor echoing in the empty hallway. You barely noticed the chipped paint on the doorframe as you rushed past it, the little scuff marks you’d always meant to fix but never had time for.

The moment you stepped outside, the crisp October air hit you, a sharp contrast to the warm, cluttered apartment you’d just left behind. The trees lining the street were shedding their leaves, golden and red, fluttering down like confetti celebrating your disastrous morning. The sunlight was too bright, too cheerful for how you felt inside. You were already late, already spiralling into the kind of panic that made your chest tight and your thoughts race.

The subway was a lost cause by the time you made it to the station. The train doors slid shut just as you arrived, the screech of metal on metal mocking your pitiful sprint. You stood there on the platform, panting and swearing under your breath, watching the train disappear down the tunnel, taking your last hope of getting to work on time with it.

As you waited for the next train, you leaned against the tiled wall, trying to catch your breath. Your reflection in the dirty glass across the platform looked like someone who had already lost the battle with the day. Wrinkled clothes, messy hair, smeared makeup. You hadn’t even made it to the office yet, and you felt like you were falling apart at the seams.

When the train finally arrived and you squeezed yourself into the crowded car, the smell of too many bodies crushed together in too small a space made your skin crawl. You clutched your purse tighter, your knuckles white with tension, and tried to focus on something—anything—other than the fact that you were late. You practically stumbled off the train, your pulse racing as you navigated through the throng of people. The station was a blur of hurried footsteps and muffled voices. You checked the time on your phone for what felt like the hundredth time, your heart sinking as you realized just how close you were cutting it.

I can make it, I can make it.

The mantra repeated in your head like a lifeline as you pushed through the turnstiles and broke into a brisk walk. Your mind was already at the office, imagining the look on your boss's face if you were late again.

A red light stopped you at the intersection just outside your office building, and you stood there, practically vibrating with stress, watching the seconds tick by. Each one felt like a hammer pounding away at your resolve. You shifted anxiously on your feet, willing the light to turn green.

When it finally did, you dashed across the street, your breath coming in short, sharp bursts. You barely registered the people you passed as you rushed through the front doors of the office building. The cool, air-conditioned air hit you like a wall, but you didn’t have time to appreciate it.

The elevator doors were just about to close as you sprinted inside, earning a few raised eyebrows from your fellow passengers. You tried to calm your breathing, smoothing down your hair as best you could, but the mirror’s reflection didn’t lie—your hair was a mess, and you could feel the sweat on your forehead. You glanced at your phone again, watching the seconds tick down.

By the time the elevator doors dinged open on your floor, you had mere seconds to spare. You rushed out, almost colliding with a coworker, and made a beeline for the office doors. Your heart was pounding, your nerves frayed to the point of breaking, but you were here. You had made it. That had to count for something, right?

Except, of course, the universe wasn’t done with you yet.

As you pushed through the office doors, the weight of the morning’s chaos still heavy on your shoulders, you realized you were in no shape to face the day just yet. You needed a moment—a breather, a mental reset before you could even think about diving into your work. And more than anything, you needed caffeine. Cccc c cc sfdffffffffffffffffffffffffffffZFDRFRZRDcs

Without a second thought, you changed direction, detouring toward the break room. The thought of hot, fresh coffee was the only thing keeping you from falling apart at this point. The office buzzed around you—phones ringing, keyboards clacking, coworkers already deep in conversation—but you barely noticed. All you could focus on was getting to that coffee machine.

When you stepped into the break room, it was thankfully empty. The fluorescent lights were harsh against your tired eyes, but the quiet felt like a small mercy after the chaos of the morning. You exhaled slowly, allowing yourself a moment to just breathe.

The coffee machine whirred as you set it to brew, and you stood there, watching the dark liquid drip into the cup. The smell of fresh coffee filled the air, and for the first time that morning, you felt a small sense of relief. It was a tiny victory, but you’d take it.

As you waited, you leaned against the counter, your mind still racing but slowly beginning to settle. You thought about the train ride, the rush to get here, the constant pressure of being on time, of staying on top of everything. It felt like you were always teetering on the edge, like one more small inconvenience would send you spiralling.

The coffee cup finally filled to the brim, and you pulled it from the machine, taking a tentative sip. The warmth spread through you, grounding you, offering the smallest bit of comfort. But as you stood there, allowing yourself this brief moment of calm, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the day had more in store for you—that the universe wasn’t quite done testing your patience.

The door to the break room swung open, and a coworker poked their head in. “Hey, they’re looking for you,” they said, a little too chipper for your mood. “You’ve got a meeting in five.”

You blinked, your stomach sinking. Of course you did.

“Right,” you murmured, taking another sip of your coffee and trying to mentally prepare yourself for whatever awaited you. You forced a smile. “Thanks.”

As they left, you stared down into your coffee cup, the fleeting peace you had felt quickly evaporating. The clock was ticking again, and you had no choice but to jump back into the fray.

With a resigned sigh, you straightened your shoulders and made your way out of the break room, coffee in hand, trying to mentally brace yourself for the day ahead. The ride to the office had felt like an eternity, but the day? The day was already shaping up to be a whole new battlefield. You could practically feel the weight of your tasks piling up before you even reached your desk.

You took another sip of your coffee, hoping the caffeine would kick in and magically transform you into someone capable of navigating the chaos. If only it were that simple.

You rounded the corner, your mind still chewing on the details of the upcoming meeting, when it happened.

The moment your body collided with his, time seemed to stretch unnaturally, like the universe wanted to ensure you witnessed every agonizing second of what came next. You barely registered the solid, unyielding presence of the person you’d run into before your coffee cup slipped from your hand.

It tumbled through the air in the most tragic slow motion, and you could only watch in helpless horror as the dark liquid arced, suspended for a split second, before splashing down all over him.

And it wasn’t just anyone you’d run into.

It was Remy LeBeau.

The CEO of your Fortune 500 company. The man whose face graced the covers of business magazines and who was regularly featured on Time’s ‘50 Under 40 Most Influential People’ list. The man who, if the tabloids were to be believed, spent his weekends jetting off to exotic locales with supermodels and starlets.

And now, that man—the one who could fire you with a single word—was standing in front of you, covered in your coffee. His perfectly tailored suit—a suit that probably cost more than your rent—was soaked, the dark stain spreading like an inkblot across his chest and down his sleeve.

Your heart stopped for a beat, then started again, pounding so hard you could feel it in your throat. You stood there, frozen, staring up at him, wide-eyed and panic-stricken.

Remy LeBeau—the man whose influence stretched far beyond this building, who could make or break careers with a simple glance—was looking down at his ruined suit, then slowly back up at you. His dark eyes gleamed, the expression on his face unreadable for a moment.

He didn’t look angry.

No, he looked amused.

Your brain struggled to catch up with the situation. You had just spilled coffee on the Remy LeBeau. The man who could ruin you with a snap of his fingers. The CEO. The most powerful person in the building. And there he was, standing before you, smirking like this was some kind of entertaining sideshow.

“I—oh god—I’m so sorry,” you stammered, your voice trembling. Your hands fumbled for the napkin in your bag, frantically trying to wipe the coffee from his suit, even though you knew it was a lost cause. “I didn’t see you, I wasn’t paying attention, I—”

Remy raised a hand, gently catching your wrist. His touch was warm, firm, and his grip was light but commanding. The sudden contact made you freeze.

“Easy, chérie,” he said, his voice low and smooth, with that unmistakable Cajun drawl that sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes—dark, intense, and glimmering with amusement—locked onto yours. “Ain’t no need t’ panic. I’ve had worse happen on a Monday.”

You stared up at him, your heart still racing, completely at a loss for words. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t yelling. In fact, he was smiling—smiling—at you, like this was all just a minor inconvenience, not the most humiliating moment of your professional life.

Your brain scrambled, trying to make sense of the situation, but it was impossible to think straight. You’d just ruined his suit—his suit—and he was standing there, calm as ever, like this was all just some forgettable hiccup in his day.

“I—I’ll pay for the dry cleaning,” you blurted, though you knew full well you couldn’t afford it. That suit probably cost more than your entire wardrobe put together.

Remy chuckled softly, the sound rich and smooth, like velvet. “Don’t worry ‘bout it,” he said, waving off your offer with a casual flick of his hand. “I’ve got plenty of suits.”

You blinked, still trying to wrap your head around what was happening. Remy LeBeau, one of the most powerful men in the world, was standing in front of you, completely unfazed by the fact that you had just drenched him in coffee.

Before you could say anything else, the sound of footsteps approaching snapped you back to reality. You turned your head just in time to see Yelena, your coworker, striding toward you with wide eyes and a look of barely-contained disbelief. Her blonde hair was pulled into its typical messy bun, and her sharp brown eyes darted from you to Remy, then back again, clearly processing the scene in front of her.

“Oh my god,” she said, her heavy Russian accent making her words sound even more incredulous. “You spilled coffee on the CEO?” She let out a short, breathless laugh, as if the sheer absurdity of the situation was too much to process.

You groaned inwardly. Of course, Yelena had seen the whole thing.

“Yelena, please,” you muttered, your face flushing with embarrassment. If there was any mercy in the world, she’d take the hint and leave you alone. But Yelena, being Yelena, had no intention of sparing you.

“You are joking, right?” she said, her eyes wide with mock surprise. “You actually spill coffee on Remy LeBeau? The Remy LeBeau?” She glanced at him, then back at you, a grin tugging at her lips. “You are disaster, yes?”

You shot her a look that screamed please, shut up, but Yelena just laughed, shaking her head in amusement. “No, no, this is too good. I knew you were mess, but this? This is... spectacular.”

“Yelena,” you hissed through clenched teeth, your embarrassment reaching new heights. “Not. Now.”

But Yelena, being the relentless force that she was, wasn’t done. She turned her attention to Remy, giving him a cheeky smile. “You see what I deal with? Every day, she is like this. One time, she trip and fall into glass door. Another time, she forget she have meeting, show up in gym clothes. Always something.”

Your face burned hotter as you glared at Yelena, praying for the ground to swallow you whole. But instead of being annoyed, Remy’s smirk only deepened.

“Sounds like she keeps things... interestin’,” he drawled, his dark eyes flicking back to you, clearly entertained by the exchange.

“Interesting?” Yelena snorted, crossing her arms. “That is polite way to say ‘disaster waiting to happen.’”

You wanted to disappear, to melt into the floor and never resurface, but before you could even attempt to salvage the situation, Yelena gave you a wicked grin. “Well, if he shows up with new coffee later, I am calling it.”

You shot her a panicked look, but she just winked at you and sauntered off, clearly enjoying your discomfort. The room seemed to ripple with the awkward tension she left behind.

You turned back to Remy, your heart hammering in your chest, your mind still racing. He was still smiling, his eyes twinkling with amusement, like this whole thing was some kind of inside joke that only he was in on.

“I—uh—I’m so sorry, again,” you stammered, not quite sure what else to say. You were completely out of your depth. The man standing in front of you wasn’t just your CEO, he was a legend, and you had just turned yourself into a walking catastrophe in front of him.

Remy held up a hand, cutting off your nervous rambling. “Don’t worry ‘bout it,” he said, his voice still that smooth, easy drawl. “I’ve got a meetin’ in...” He checked his watch, his expression shifting slightly as he sighed. “Fifteen minutes.”

Your stomach dropped. Not only had you ruined his suit, but you had also potentially thrown off his entire schedule. “Oh god, I’m so sorry,” you repeated, this time with more desperation. “If you’re late because of me—”

Remy chuckled again, shaking his head. “Chère, it’s not the end of the world. I’ve been late to plenty of meetings. But I’ll tell you what—” His eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint as he leaned in just a fraction closer. “You owe me one now.”

You blinked, confused. “Owe you?”

He nodded, a slow, easy grin spreading across his face. “How ‘bout you make it up to me with a proper cup of coffee? A fresh one this time.”

You stared at him, still trying to process exactly what was happening. He was supposed to be furious. He was supposed to be annoyed. And yet here he was, casually suggesting that you—you—grab coffee with him after you’d just destroyed his suit.

“I—uh—are you serious?” you asked, your voice slightly shaky.

Remy raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. “I don’t joke ‘bout coffee, chérie.”

You blinked, your heart pounding in your chest. “But... you have a meeting.”

He shrugged, glancing down at his suit again. “Gotta go change first anyway. And besides,” he added with a wink, “I think I’ll have time for a quick stop on the way. You in?”

You stared at him, completely thrown off balance. The most powerful man in the company—the Remy LeBeau—was standing in front of you, casually asking you out for coffee. After you’d just spilled it all over him.

“I—uh—thanks, but I can’t,” you stammered, your heart racing. “I have a meeting I need to get to.”

Remy’s grin didn’t falter for a second. In fact, it widened, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. He tilted his head slightly, studying you for a moment before letting out a soft chuckle. “Chérie, skip it. I’ll write you a late pass or whatever,” he said with a wink, clearly joking. “Tell ‘em the boss said you’re busy.”

You blinked, completely thrown by his offer. “I-I really can’t,” you insisted, trying to sound firm, but your voice wavered. “It’s important, and—"

Remy waved a hand, cutting you off. “Cher, there ain’t nothin’ more important than a cup of coffee after a spill like that,” he drawled, his tone light and teasing. “Trust me, I know these meetin’s. They’ll survive without ya for a bit.”

You hesitated, glancing at the clock on the wall. You did have a meeting in less than fifteen minutes, one that had been on your calendar for weeks. But this was Remy LeBeau, a man who could probably get you out of any meeting with a single phone call. And he was standing there, in his coffee-stained suit, telling you to blow it off like it was no big deal.

“Besides,” he added, his grin turning slightly mischievous, “how often you get a chance to have coffee with the CEO, hein?”

Your stomach flipped at the thought. You couldn’t believe this was really happening.

“I—uh—” you started, trying to come up with a logical reason to refuse, but your brain was still short-circuiting. “I don’t know if I should—”

Remy leaned in just a little closer, his voice dropping to that low, honeyed murmur again. “Chérie, I’m the one tellin’ you it’s okay. I think you’ll survive missin’ one meetin’.”

You stared at him, completely flustered by the way the situation had escalated. He was joking, sure, but there was something about his tone, his easy confidence, that made it impossible to argue with him. And wasn’t he right? How often did anyone get a chance to have coffee with the CEO?

You bit your lip, feeling your resolve crumbling under the weight of his charm.

“Okay,” you finally breathed, your heart still pounding in your chest. “I’ll skip it.”

Remy’s grin widened, and he gave you a little nod, clearly pleased with your answer. “That’s more like it,” he said, his accent thickening just a bit as he spoke. “I’ll meet you in the lobby in five.”

And with that, he turned and sauntered away, leaving you standing there, heart racing, mind spinning, and completely unsure of what had just happened.

You stared after him, watching as he disappeared down the hallway.

Did Remy LeBeau just tell me to skip my meeting?

The CEO. The most powerful man in the company. The man who could make—or break—careers with a single glance had just told you, with a smirk and a wink, to blow off your meeting… for coffee. Not just any coffee, but coffee with him.

Your heart was still pounding in your chest, a mix of adrenaline and disbelief coursing through your veins. You stared down the hallway where he’d disappeared, his last words still replaying in your mind.

"The boss said you’re busy."

For a moment, you considered following after him and telling him you couldn’t possibly skip a meeting. That you had responsibilities. That this was insane. But then you remembered the way he’d looked at you—those dark, mischievous eyes gleaming with amusement, his tone so casual, so confident, like nothing in the world could faze him.

And really, who would argue with the CEO?

You glanced at the clock again. Your meeting was in ten minutes.

A part of you wanted to rush to it, to play it safe, to stick to the plan. But another part—the part that was still reeling from the fact that Remy LeBeau had essentially just asked you out for coffee—was telling you to go for it. To take the risk. To see where this unexpected turn of events might lead.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, snapping you out of your thoughts. You pulled it out and saw a reminder flashing on the screen: Meeting in 10 minutes: Q3 Performance Review.

You groaned softly. It wasn’t just any meeting—it was the Q3 performance review with your team. One of those meetings where people expected you to be engaged, prepared, and on point. And now, you were supposed to just skip it?

You hesitated for a moment longer, your thumb hovering over the phone screen as you considered sending a quick excuse to your boss. How could you possibly explain this? Sorry, I spilled coffee on the CEO, and now I’m getting coffee with him instead. Catch you next time!

Your stomach twisted in knots at the thought.

But then, you remembered Remy’s parting words: “I’ll meet you in the lobby in five.” The way he’d said it, as though there was no question that you’d be there. As though it was a foregone conclusion.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. This wasn’t just some random encounter. This was an opportunity—a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, honestly. What were the chances you’d ever get to spend time one-on-one with the elusive, charismatic CEO of your company? The man who everyone in the business world seemed to admire (or fear, or both)?

You couldn’t pass this up.

With a resigned sigh, you tapped out a quick email to your team:

> Subject: Apologies - Unable to Attend Q3 Performance Review

> Hi Team,

> Unfortunately, something urgent has come up, and I won’t be able to attend the Q3 Performance Review. Please proceed without me, and I’ll catch up on the notes afterward.

> Thanks,

You stared at the email for a second, feeling a knot of anxiety tighten in your chest. But then, you hit send before you could second-guess yourself.

It was done.

You quickly stuffed your phone back into your pocket and took a deep breath. Five minutes. You had five minutes to pull yourself together before meeting Remy in the lobby.

Your mind raced as you tried to make sense of what had just unfolded. Was this really happening? Were you really about to meet the CEO for coffee like it was the most normal thing in the world?

Your feet felt almost heavy as you made your way toward the elevator, every step echoing in the empty hallway. The office was humming with the usual Monday morning buzz—people on calls, the distant sound of keyboards clacking—but it all seemed so far away now, like you were walking through some surreal version of reality.

By the time you reached the lobby, your nerves were in overdrive. You glanced around, half-expecting Remy to have forgotten or changed his mind. Maybe this was all a joke? Maybe he was just being nice because you’d spilled coffee on him, and now he’d realized how ridiculous this all was.

But then, as if on cue, you spotted him.

Remy LeBeau, standing by the entrance, his phone in hand, looking more relaxed and put-together than anyone had a right to be after being doused in hot coffee. He’d changed into a fresh suit—navy this time, perfectly tailored, of course—and he looked every bit as smooth and unbothered as he had when you’d first run into him (literally).

He glanced up from his phone as you approached, a slow grin spreading across his face when he saw you.

“Right on time,” he drawled, slipping his phone into his pocket. “Thought I might’ve scared you off.”

You let out a nervous laugh, your heart still racing. “I, uh... thought about it.”

Remy chuckled, his dark eyes twinkling with amusement. “Smart girl, but I’m glad you didn’t.” He gestured toward the door, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back as he guided you outside. “Come on, chérie. There’s a café down the street that makes a mean espresso. We’ll get you some proper coffee this time.”

You felt a shiver run down your spine at the casual touch. His hand was warm, and even though it was a small, light gesture, it felt... intimate—like you were sharing some kind of secret.

As you stepped outside into the crisp morning air, you couldn’t help but glance up at him, still half-expecting this to be some sort of elaborate prank. But Remy looked perfectly at ease, his long strides confident as he led you down the street, completely unfazed by the chaos he’d left behind in the office.

“So,” he said after a moment, his voice low and smooth, “you really skipped that meetin’ for me, huh?”

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your nerves in check. “Well... you did say you’d write me a late pass.”

Remy laughed, a deep, rich sound that sent another shiver down your spine. “True. Maybe I’ll draft one up later, just for the fun of it.”

You couldn’t help but smile, despite the butterflies fluttering in your chest. “I’m not sure ‘the CEO told me to’ will go over well with my boss.”

He raised an eyebrow, his grin turning slightly mischievous. “Trust me, it will. I got more pull ‘round here than you might think.”

Your cheeks flushed at the playful tone in his voice, and for the first time since this whole thing started, you allowed yourself to relax just a little. Maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t as crazy as it seemed.

As you reached the café, Remy held the door open for you, his hand still resting lightly on your back as you stepped inside. The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, instantly calming your nerves.

Remy glanced at the menu, then back at you. “What’s your poison, chérie? Something strong to make up for earlier?”

You bit your lip, feeling a small smile tug at the corners of your mouth. “I think I’ll leave the recommendations to the expert.”

Remy’s grin widened. “Good choice. I’ll take care of it.”

As he moved to the counter to place the order, you found yourself watching him, still amazed by the ease with which he carried himself. He was Remy LeBeau, the CEO of a multi-billion-dollar company, and yet, here he was, making time for something as simple as coffee with you.

Part of you still couldn’t believe it.

Minutes later, he returned with two cups, setting one in front of you before taking a seat across from you. “Here you go,” he said, his voice warm and teasing. “Let’s see if this makes up for the earlier... incident.”

You lifted the cup to your lips, the rich aroma enveloping you as you took a sip. The coffee was smooth, strong, and absolutely perfect. You let out a soft, appreciative hum. “Okay, I’ll admit it. This is good.”

Remy leaned back in his chair, his eyes watching you intently, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. “Told ya. Always trust me when it comes to coffee, chérie.” You took another sip of your coffee, savoring the rich, smooth flavor as the warmth spread through your body. It wasn’t just the coffee, though—there was something about the entire situation that was making you feel… comfortable. Relaxed, even. Despite the earlier chaos, despite the fact that you were sitting across from Remy LeBeau, of all people, the conversation felt easy. Natural.

Remy, for his part, was leaning back in his chair, his eyes watching you with that same amused glint, like this was the most normal thing in the world for him. He had the ability to make everything seem effortless—whether it was leading a multi-billion-dollar company or sitting in a café with a woman who had just drenched him in coffee.

“So,” he said, breaking the silence with that smooth, honeyed voice of his, “what had you so flustered this mornin’?”

You blinked, caught off-guard by the question. “What do you mean?” you asked, feeling a bit self-conscious as you set your cup back down on the table.

Remy’s grin widened just a little, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Come on, chérie, I saw the look on your face when you ran into me—before the coffee incident,” he teased, leaning forward slightly. “You looked like you’d seen a ghost.”

You bit your lip, feeling a flush creep up your neck. He wasn’t wrong. You had been flustered, but it wasn’t just about spilling coffee on him. It was everything—your morning, your nerves, the overwhelming pressure of trying to do everything right in a company where it always felt like you were one misstep away from disaster.

“I was just… running late,” you said with a shrug, trying to downplay your earlier panic. “I had a meeting. I guess I was a little... distracted.”

Remy raised an eyebrow, his grin turning slightly skeptical. “That’s it? Just a meetin’?”

You hesitated, not sure whether to admit the rest of it. But something about the way he was looking at you—genuinely curious, not judgmental—made you feel like you could be honest with him. You let out a breath, feeling the tension ease from your shoulders.

“Okay, fine,” you admitted, running a hand through your hair. “It wasn’t just the meeting. I guess it’s just... everything. You know? Trying to keep up, trying not to mess up, trying to prove myself.” You glanced down at your coffee, feeling a little vulnerable. “It’s overwhelming sometimes.”

Remy nodded, his expression softening as he leaned back in his chair. “Yeah, I get that.”

You looked up at him, surprised. “You do?”

“Chérie,” he said with a wry smile, “I run this place, remember? I know all about pressure.” He took a sip of his coffee, his eyes never leaving yours. “But I’ll let you in on a little secret. Everyone’s tryin’ to prove somethin’. Even the ones who look like they got it all together.”

You blinked, processing his words. It was hard to imagine someone like Remy LeBeau—Remy LeBeau—ever feeling the need to prove anything. But there was something in his tone, something genuine, that made you believe him.

“I guess,” you said slowly, “it just feels like I’m always one step away from screwing everything up.”

Remy chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Chère, if spillin’ coffee on me is the worst thing you do today, you’re doin’ just fine.” His smile was warm, reassuring, and for the first time all day, you felt the weight on your shoulders begin to lift.

“Thanks,” you said quietly, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the coffee.

“I gotta say though,” he began, his voice smooth as silk, “this mornin’ ain’t even close to the worst Monday I ever had.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh yeah? What could possibly top getting coffee spilled all over you before a big meeting?”

Remy chuckled, the sound low and rich, as if he were enjoying some private joke. He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. “Well, let’s just say, a little coffee ain’t nothin’ compared to the time an intern nearly lost the company $31 million in one day.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief. “What? How does that even happen?”

Remy grinned, clearly enjoying the look of shock on your face. “Ah, it was a wild day, chérie. Poor kid was new, only been with us for a couple weeks. He was supposed to be shadowin’ one of our senior traders, right? But somehow, he got access to the trading platform and thought he’d try his hand at makin’ some moves.”

You winced, already picturing the disaster. “Oh no...”

“Oh yes,” Remy said, leaning back again, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “He thought he was gonna be the next big thing, you know? A real wunderkind. But instead of makin’ us money, he nearly tanked one of our portfolios.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, even as you felt a pang of sympathy for the poor intern. “How did you not fire him on the spot?”

Remy shrugged, his expression softening a bit. “Well, I figured he’d already learned his lesson. No need to ruin the kid’s career before it even started. We caught the mistake in time, fixed the trades, and no real harm done. Besides...” He gave you a knowing look. “Everyone makes mistakes. It’s how you handle ‘em that matters.”

You smiled, marveling at how easily he could shrug off something that would have given most people a heart attack. “I guess that puts my little coffee incident into perspective.”

Remy’s grin widened, and he winked at you. “Exactly. Ain’t no need to be so hard on yourself.”

You took another sip of your coffee, feeling a little more at ease, though you couldn’t help but shake your head in disbelief. “I can’t imagine being that calm about almost losing that much money.”

Remy laughed again, the sound warm and easy. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, chérie. I wasn’t calm. Not at first, anyway. I had to step outside, take a few deep breaths, maybe yell into the sky a little. But once I was done with that, I went back in, fixed the problem, and we moved on.”

You looked at him, more impressed than ever. “I couldn’t keep my cool like that.”

He shrugged, though there was a glint of pride in his eyes. “Part of the job. Can’t let every little thing knock you off your game. You gotta be able to roll with the punches, you know?”

You nodded, feeling like you were getting a rare glimpse into the real Remy LeBeau, the one who didn’t just glide through life with that effortless charm but actually worked hard to keep everything running smoothly behind the scenes. It was... inspiring, in a way.

“So,” you said, leaning forward a little, “what happened to the intern? Did he survive?”

Remy chuckled again, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. “Oh yeah, he survived. He’s actually one of our top traders now. Turns out he had a knack for it, once we got him a little more trainin’ and a lot less access to the company’s entire portfolio.”

You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. “That’s insane.”

“Yep,” he agreed, his grin wide. “But that’s just how it goes sometimes. You make a mistake, you learn from it, and then you come back stronger.”

You couldn’t help but feel a little lighter after hearing that story. It was a reminder that even in a high-pressure environment like this, mistakes happened—and they weren’t always the end of the world.

“You’ve got a good attitude about it,” you said, smiling at him. “I think I’d be a nervous wreck if I were in your shoes.”

Remy’s gaze softened, and he gave you a small, almost serious smile. “You’d be surprised, chérie. You’re doin’ a lot better than ya give yourself credit for.”

For a moment, his words hung in the air between you, and you felt a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the coffee. There was something in the way he said it—like he genuinely believed it—that made you think maybe he was right.

“Thanks,” you said quietly, feeling a little shy under his steady gaze.

Remy’s smile returned to its usual playful curve, and he gave you a wink. “Anytime, chérie. Now, what do you say we get outta here before I start spillin’ my own coffee?”

You laughed, shaking your head as you stood up. “Deal.”

As you and Remy stepped out of the café, the brisk morning air greeted you, making the warmth of the coffee still lingering in your hands all the more pleasant. The office wasn’t far, but you couldn’t help wishing the walk would stretch out just a little longer. Something about being with him—Remy LeBeau, the CEO—felt surprisingly... normal. Comfortable, even. It felt like you were walking beside an old friend instead of one of the most powerful people in the building.

You glanced sideways at him, watching as he slipped his hands into his pockets and strolled along like he didn’t have a care in the world. It was hard to reconcile this version of him—the laid-back, effortlessly charming man beside you—with the high-powered executive you’d seen commanding boardrooms. The contrast made you smile to yourself, and before you knew it, you were speaking up.

“You know,” you began, your tone light, “I’ve just kinda realised something.”

Remy’s lips quirked into that familiar, lazy grin as he glanced over at you. “Oh yeah? And what might that be, chérie?”

“That you are, without a doubt, the least terrifying person I’ve ever spoken to in this building.”

His grin widened, and a deep, rumbling laugh rolled from his chest. “Well now, that’s a surprise. Most people tend to get a little nervous ‘round me. You know, the whole ‘CEO’ thing.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Trust me, you don’t even come close. There are way scarier people around here. Like Melinda in accounting. She is terrifying.”

Remy threw his head back and laughed, the sound full and genuine. “Ah, Melinda. Yeah, she’s somethin’ else.” He shook his head, still chuckling. “You know, even I feel a little intimidated walkin’ into her office. That woman could make a grown man confess to crimes he didn’t commit if she wanted to.”

You laughed harder than you probably should have, nodding in agreement. “Exactly! Last week, I had to ask her a question about payroll, and I swear she looked at me like I was interrupting a top-secret government operation.”

Remy grinned, his eyes lighting up with amusement. “Yeah, Melinda don’t mess around. But that’s why I keep her around. She’s the reason we stay outta trouble with the IRS.”

You shook your head, still grinning. “I guess I’ll take Melinda over an audit any day.”

“Smart girl,” he said with a wink, his voice full of warmth.

You couldn’t help but feel a little flutter in your chest at that. The way he looked at you—like you were someone worth paying attention to—it was surprising. You’d been so caught up in the idea of him being this larger-than-life figure, but here he was, laughing with you about office politics like it was the most natural thing in the world.

As you neared the office, the sleek glass building looming ahead, you realized you didn’t want this moment to end. The walk had been easy, comfortable. It was a side of Remy you’d never expected to see, and you weren’t ready to step back into the world of emails, deadlines, and intimidating supervisors just yet.

“So,” Remy said, breaking into your thoughts with that smooth, honeyed drawl, “if I’m not the most intimidatin’ person ‘round here, who holds that title?”

You pretended to think it over, biting your lip to hide your smile. “Hmm... I’d say it’s a tie between Melinda and Bucky, the security guy downstairs.”

Remy smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Bucky? Really?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you said, nodding seriously. “Every time I walk past him, he looks at me like I’ve personally offended him just by showing up for work. Like, sorry for existing, Bucky.”

Remy’s laugh was deep and genuine, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Yeah, Bucky’s got that ‘I’d-rather-be-anywhere-else’ face down to a science. I think it’s his default expression.”

“He could at least mix it up with a smile once in a while,” you joked, shaking your head. “It’s terrifying.”

Remy chuckled again, glancing at you with that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. “Maybe I’ll get him a ‘best customer service’ award or somethin’. See if that lightens him up.”

You laughed, the sound coming out more freely than you expected. There was something about him—about the way he could turn even the most mundane things into something amusing—that made you feel at ease. It was like the usual weight of the office, of trying to keep up and not screw up, just... lifted. And you weren’t sure if it was the coffee or if it was just him, but you found yourself enjoying this moment more than you ever thought you would.

As the office building came into full view, you felt a pang of disappointment. The walk was almost over. The moment was almost over. And you weren’t quite ready for it to be. You glanced at him again, wondering how someone like him—someone with so much power and influence—could make you feel so... steady.

Just as you reached the entrance, Remy slowed his pace, turning slightly toward you. There was a softness in his eyes now, something more serious, and it caught you a little off guard.

“You know,” he began, his voice quieter, “I wasn’t just messin’ with you earlier.”

You blinked, looking up at him. “About what?”

“‘Bout everyone tryin’ to prove somethin’.” He held your gaze, his tone sincere. “Even the folks who look like they got it all together—like Melinda, like Bucky—they all got somethin’ they’re dealin’ with. And you? You’re doin’ better than you think, chérie. Don’t let the pressure get to you.”

His words hit you in a way you weren’t expecting, and for a moment, you just stood there, processing what he’d said. It wasn’t often that anyone—let alone someone like Remy LeBeau—offered you reassurance like that. And it wasn’t just the words; it was the way he said it, with that quiet confidence that made you believe him.

“I... thank you,” you said softly, feeling a warmth spread through your chest, something akin to relief. “That means a lot.”

His lips curved into a slow, easy smile, the warmth returning to his eyes. “Anytime.”

With that, he stepped forward and held the door open for you, his hand once again resting lightly on the small of your back as you walked through. The touch, as before, felt intimate without being overbearing, like a quiet promise that he was there, that he had your back.

As you stepped into the lobby, the familiar hum of the office surrounded you, but it felt different now. Lighter. Like the usual weight of the day wasn’t pressing down quite as hard. You glanced back at Remy, who gave you one last grin as the elevator doors slid open.

“Well,” he drawled, his voice playful again, “guess I’ll see you ‘round, chérie. Try not to cause too much trouble, yeah?”

You smirked, stepping into the elevator. “No promises.”

He let out a soft chuckle, his eyes twinkling as the doors began to close. “I wouldn’t expect anythin’ less.”

And just like that, the elevator doors shut, leaving you alone with your thoughts—and with a small, secret smile tugging at your lips.

As the elevator began its ascent, you leaned back against the wall, the warmth of the encounter still lingering in your chest. Maybe this morning hadn’t gone as planned. Maybe you’d made a mess of things with the coffee incident. But somehow, in the span of a short walk and a couple of jokes, Remy LeBeau had managed to turn your day around.

And as the elevator dinged to a stop, you couldn’t help but think that maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t the last time you’d find yourself sharing a moment like this with him. <><><><> The next morning was a blur of routine. You sat at your desk, the hum of the office providing a steady background as you tried to focus on the never-ending stream of emails and reports. But your thoughts kept drifting back to the day before—walking with Remy LeBeau, laughing, teasing, feeling completely at ease with someone who should have been intimidating beyond belief.

Today, however, the magic of that morning seemed distant, and the reality of your workload was crashing back in. You were staring at your screen, half-reading the same email for the third time, when a familiar voice cut through your concentration.

“Ah, pen thief,” Yelena’s voice interrupted, her thick Russian accent layered with playful accusation.

You glanced up to see her leaning against the divider of your cubicle, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at her lips. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, and she had that mischievous glint in her eye—the one she always wore when she was about to start trouble.

“Pen thief? You’re the one who lost the last one!” you shot back, giving her a pointed glare. “That was my favorite pen, by the way. No other pen here hits that nice paper glide feeling ya know?”

Yelena rolled her eyes dramatically. “Pfft. You act like I lost Hope Diamond. It was just pen.”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Yeah, just a pen that I’m pretty sure you borrowed and then abandoned somewhere.”

Yelena pushed herself off the divider and slid into the empty chair beside your desk, making herself comfortable. “You know, you always so dramatic about these things. It probably rolled under desk somewhere.”

“Convenient excuse,” you said, crossing your arms. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you lost it. So you should be the one going to the supply closet to get more.”

Yelena sighed theatrically, leaning back in her chair with the air of someone deeply put-upon. “It always me? Always poor Yelena, doing hard work. I should get medal.”

You snorted. “A medal for losing things, maybe.”

Yelena leaned forward with a mock-serious expression. “Excuse me, I not lose things. They... disappear mysteriously.”

“Right,” you said, rolling your eyes. “And I suppose the stapler I lent you last week just vanished into thin air, too?”

Yelena waved a hand dismissively. “Staplers do not count. Everyone knows staplers have legs. They walk away on own.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Sure, Yelena. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

She grinned, clearly pleased with herself. “So, are you going to get pens, or do I have to drag you there?”

“No way,” you protested, turning back to your screen. “I went last time. It’s your turn.”

Yelena made a sound somewhere between a groan and a growl. “Ugh. Fine. You owe me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, amused. “I’ll make it up to you by not letting you lose my next pen.”

Yelena opened her mouth for what was undoubtedly going to be another snarky retort, but the phone on your desk rang, cutting her off. You glanced at the number on the display and felt your heart stop for a second. It was a direct line—Remy’s office.

Yelena noticed the change in your expression and raised an eyebrow. “Who is that?”

You swallowed, your stomach twisting with sudden nerves. “It’s...Big boss man’s office.”

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oho, someone in trouble, huh?”

You shot her a look, but your nerves were too jittery to come up with a witty comeback. Instead, you picked up the receiver, hoping your voice didn’t betray your sudden anxiety.

“Hello?”

“Good morning,” came the calm, professional voice on the other end. It was Wanda, Remy’s assistant. You had never spoken to her directly, but her reputation preceded her. She was known for running Remy’s schedule like a tight ship, keeping his world perfectly organized. “Mr. LeBeau would like to see you in his office. ASAP.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Oh—uh, okay. I’ll be right there.”

The line went dead with a soft click, and you slowly lowered the receiver, your stomach doing anxious flips.

Yelena, who had been listening intently, leaned forward in her chair, eyes wide with curiosity. “What was that? Why does he want to see you?”

“I—I don’t know,” you stammered, feeling a rush of nerves. “Wanda just said he wants to see me in his office.”

Yelena’s grin spread slowly, like a cat who’d just cornered a mouse. “Oh, this good. What did you do? He probably fire you. Or fuck you.”

You groaned, shaking your head. “It’s probably nothing. I’ll tell you later.”

Yelena gave you a skeptical look, clearly not buying it. “Sure. But you better have good story for me when you come back,” she said with a wink.

You stood up, smoothing your blouse and trying to calm your racing heart. “I’ll be back soon.”

Yelena leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms behind her head. “Good luck, pen thief! Try not get fired!”

Before you could ask why, the line clicked off, leaving you staring at the phone in a mix of anxiety and confusion. What could he possibly want? Yesterday’s coffee incident had ended on a light note—you thought everything was fine. But now, the CEO was summoning you to his office, and your mind was racing with possibilities.

You stood up, smoothing your clothes, trying to quell the rising tide of nerves. The walk to his office seemed longer than usual, each step punctuated by the thud of your heartbeat in your ears. You mentally ran over everything you’d done in the past 24 hours, trying to figure out if there was something—anything—you might’ve missed or messed up. Was he upset? Had you made a mistake somewhere? Surely, you couldn't be in trouble over coffee?

By the time you reached the executive floor, your pulse was thrumming in your neck. Wanda waved you through without much fanfare, her usual calm demeanor doing nothing to settle your nerves.

You knocked lightly on Remy’s office door, and his voice called out from the other side. “Come in.”

You stepped inside, and there he was—Remy LeBeau, seated behind a massive mahogany desk, looking as composed and confident as ever. His suit today was charcoal gray, sharp and perfectly tailored, and his dark eyes gleamed with their usual amusement when he saw you.

“Morning, chérie,” he said, leaning back in his chair, his voice warm and relaxed. “You look a bit more put together today. No coffee spills, I see.”

You let out a nervous laugh, trying to shake off the anxiety that had followed you all the way up here. “Yeah, no disasters this morning. I’m trying to keep things under control.”

He chuckled softly, gesturing for you to take a seat in one of the plush chairs across from his desk. As you sat down, you noticed the way his eyes flicked over you, not in a judgmental way, but as if he was assessing something deeper. It made your stomach twist again, and your knee started to bounce under the desk before you could stop it.

“How’s Yelena?” he asked casually, his voice light. “She still givin’ you a hard time about yesterday?”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the sudden shift to small talk. “Oh, Yelena?” You smiled, relaxing just a little. “She’s... well, she’s Yelena. She hasn’t let me live it down yet, but that’s just how she is.”

Remy nodded, his smile deepening. “Figured as much. She’s got a sharp tongue, that one.”

You nodded, but despite the easy conversation, the tension in your chest didn’t ease. Your knee was still bouncing nervously, and Remy’s sharp eyes didn’t miss it. He leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrest as he let out a slow breath.

“Relax, chérie,” he said, his tone gentle but commanding. “Ain’t no need to be nervous. I called you in here for somethin’, but it’s nothin’ bad. In fact, I’d say it’s quite the opposite.”

You swallowed, trying to steady your nerves, but the way he was watching you only made your heart race faster. He leaned forward slightly, his dark eyes locking onto yours with that same quiet intensity you’d seen yesterday.

“I’ve been lookin’ at your employee file,” he said, his voice smooth and even. “All your work, your performance reviews, your history with the company.”

Your stomach dropped, anxiety flaring up again. “Oh?”

Remy smiled, but it wasn’t the playful grin you were used to. It was something deeper, more serious. “You’re good, chérie. Real good. But there’s more to it than just your work.”

Your eyes widened, confusion swirling in your mind. “More to it?”

He tapped his finger on the arm of his chair, his gaze never leaving yours. “Yesterday… I enjoyed our conversation over coffee. A lot more than I expected. You’re easy to talk to. Comfortable.”

You blinked, trying to process where this was going. “I, uh… I enjoyed talking to you, too.”

Remy’s smile widened ever so slightly, but his expression remained thoughtful, his fingers still tapping as if he were weighing his next words carefully. “That’s why I called you in here. I’ve got a proposition for you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “A… proposition?”

He nodded, leaning forward slightly, his voice dropping to that smooth, low tone that always seemed to make your pulse quicken. “I’m lookin’ for someone like you, someone I can trust, to accompany me on business trips. Personal trips. Events. Whatever comes up. Someone who’s easy to talk to, someone I can rely on to keep things… comfortable.”

You stared at him, your mind spinning. “You want me to… travel with you?”

He nodded again, his eyes gleaming with something unreadable. “In exchange, you’ll get full access to my black card. Anything you need, any expenses you have. Whatever you want.”

The words hung in the air between you, the weight of them pressing down on your chest. You swallowed hard, your mind racing as you tried to make sense of what he was offering.

“Wait,” you said slowly, raising an eyebrow. “Like… a sugar baby?”

Remy shrugged one shoulder, his smirk returning, though there was a flicker of something more serious in his eyes. “That ain’t the word I’d use, chérie,” he said smoothly. “But yes, somethin’ like that.”

You blinked, your mind struggling to catch up with the situation. This wasn’t what you had expected—at all. Was this some kind of joke? Some kind of test? But the way Remy was looking at you, calm and confident, told you that he was completely serious.

“You want me to… accompany you. To events. And in return, I get access to… everything?” you repeated, still trying to wrap your head around the offer.

Remy nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “That’s right. No strings attached, just you and me. I’ll take care of you, chérie. Anything you need, you just ask.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, your mind spinning with a thousand questions. What did this mean? What would people think? How could you possibly say yes to something like this?

And yet… the way he was looking at you, the way his voice wrapped around you like silk, made it hard to think clearly. There was something intoxicating about the offer—something that pulled at you, even though you knew it was dangerous.

You met his gaze, feeling the weight of the decision pressing down on you. “And if I say no?”

Remy’s grin softened, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Then nothin’ changes. You go back to your desk, back to your work, and we forget this conversation ever happened.” He leaned back in his chair, his fingers still tapping lightly on the armrest. “But if you say yes… well, I think you’ll find it’s a pretty sweet deal.”

You sat there, staring at him, your heart racing as you tried to figure out what to do. This wasn’t just about the black card, or the trips, or the perks. This was about stepping into a world you had never imagined for yourself—a world where you were at the center of Remy LeBeau’s attention.

And that, more than anything, was what made your pulse quicken.

“What do you say, chérie?” Remy asked softly, his voice pulling you back to the present. “You in?” You sat there, staring at Remy, your mind spinning as you tried to process everything he’d just said. The offer hung in the air between you, heavy with implications. The room felt too quiet, too still, as if the world had paused, waiting for your response.

Your thoughts began to race, weighing the pros and cons as quickly as you could. On the one hand, this was Remy LeBeau, the CEO of the entire company, offering you a chance to step into his inner circle. It was exclusive and alluring, a position of privilege that few people ever even dreamed of. The access to his black card alone was mind-blowing—anything you need, any expenses, anything you want. Those words echoed in your head, almost dizzying in their possibilities.

No more worrying about rent or bills. No more stressing about whether you could afford that new outfit for a work event or that last-minute flight to visit family. You could have comfort, luxury, and security, and Remy was offering it all to you on a silver platter.

And the trips—business, personal, events. You would be riding in first-class, staying in five-star hotels, attending high-profile events with him. You’d be side by side with one of the most powerful, influential men in the business world. The opportunities for networking alone were staggering. Not to mention the experience, the places you’d see, the people you’d meet.

But then… there were the cons.

Was this really what you wanted? What would people think? You were no stranger to office gossip, and the moment anyone saw you traveling with him, attending events with him, the rumors would start. They’d whisper about you behind closed doors, about what you must have done to earn that position. About what kind of relationship you had with the CEO.

And then there was the question of you—what would this mean for you as a person? Could you handle being seen this way? Could you live with yourself if you accepted? There was something about the offer that felt exhilarating, yes, but also dangerous, like stepping onto a ledge without knowing how far the fall would be.

You glanced up at Remy, who was watching you closely, his expression calm but attentive. He wasn’t pressuring you, but you could feel the weight of his gaze. He was waiting, and while he was patient, you could sense he preferred not to be kept waiting for too long.

After a long moment of silence, he leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly on the armrest. “I don’t need an answer right now, chérie,” he said, his voice smooth, understanding. “Take your time. Think it over. But…” His eyes darkened slightly, that playful glint returning as he gave you a small, knowing smile. “I’d much rather have an answer sooner than later.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the tension ease ever so slightly at his words. He wasn’t pushing you, but there was an edge of urgency, a quiet expectation beneath the surface. He wasn’t a man used to waiting—he was used to getting what he wanted.

“I—” you started, then paused, trying to gather your thoughts. “I’ll need to think about it.”

Remy nodded, his eyes softening. “Of course. I wouldn’t expect anything less.” He leaned forward slightly, his gaze locking onto yours with that same quiet intensity. “But just so we’re clear, chérie, this is a good offer. A damn good offer. And I don’t make it lightly.”

You bit your lip, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest at his words. Of course, it was a good offer. It was the offer. One that could change everything for you.

“I understand,” you said quietly, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. “I’ll think about it, and I’ll… let you know soon.”

Remy’s smile widened, a hint of satisfaction flickering in his dark eyes. “That’s all I ask.” He stood up from his chair, signaling that the conversation was drawing to a close. “Take your time, chérie, but like I said… I’d rather know sooner than later.”

You rose from your chair as well, your legs feeling a little shaky as you stood. “I will,” you promised, your voice a little firmer now. “Thank you.”

Remy gave you a slow nod, his eyes never leaving yours. “You’re welcome. And just remember—whatever you decide, we’ll keep this between us. No one else needs to know.”

You felt a small wave of relief wash over you at that. At least you wouldn’t have to worry about anyone finding out before you’d even made a decision.

With a final nod, you turned and made your way toward the door, your heart still pounding in your chest. As you reached for the handle, you heard Remy’s voice behind you, low and smooth.

“Take care, chérie.”

You glanced back at him, his dark eyes still watching you with that same unreadable intensity. “You too,” you managed, before stepping out of the office and closing the door behind you.

As you walked back to your desk, your mind was spinning with everything that had just happened. The offer. The implications. The opportunity. You couldn’t stop thinking about it—how it could change everything for you, how it could open doors you’d never even dreamed of.

But at the same time, that little voice in the back of your head kept whispering, reminding you of the risks. Of what people would say. Of how this might change how you saw yourself.

You sat down at your desk, staring blankly at your computer screen, your hands shaking slightly as you tried to process it all. You had a decision to make—a big one. And no matter which way you looked at it, nothing would be the same after this.

Was this really what you wanted?

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. You didn’t have to decide right now. But soon.

And you knew that whatever choice you made, it would change everything.

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