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ourdawnishotterthanourday · 3 months

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Melon Pang! (PART ONE) — CEO Choi Seungcheol

✧ The second chapter — Part of the SEVENTEEN World Series

The last thing Seungcheol expected was to argue with a random stranger in a bakery after an awfully stressful day. But how could he not when this person was about to take the last melon pan? You were in a similar position. Your boss had been nagging you non-stop at work, and all you wanted was your favorite snack, followed by a movie marathon on the couch. Instead, you find yourself having to deal with this stubborn guy who thinks the whole world is his.

✧ Genre: CEO au; coffee shop au; SMUT (in part two), fluff, angst, slow-burn, strangers to lovers ♥ Pairing: barista!reader x managing CEO!Choi Seungcheol ✧ Word count: 32k+ ✦ Warnings: swearing, many petty arguments between the reader and Cheol, stubborn Cheol, stubborn reader, power abuse (reader’s boss is an ass), time skips, several long flashbacks (let me know if I missed any!) ♕ Shout out: thanks again to @fugaciousserendipity for your input, and a special thank you to the wonderful @wongyuseokie for beta-reading for me, as well as hyping me the fuck uuuuup!!! love you, muah 💜 and thanks @outromoni for the banner!

✎ Notes (please read before sending me any questions!): 1) this is only the first part of the chapter since it's going to be waaaay longer than I anticipated LOL. also means that this is only the beginning and you will probably have many many questions at the end. but I promise, part two will be gooooood hehe 🤭; 2) there are some snippets from Wonwoo’s chapter since it takes place at the same time, so I advise you to read Don't Tell The Boss if you don't want to get confused; 3) the chapter is written from the perspective of Seungcheol AND reader; 4) I just want to clear something up in case people have questions about it: the snack I'm referring to in the chapter is a melon pan (a Japanese snack), but I named the chapter melon pang! since it's a wordplay on the seventeen song Pang! 🥰

Seungcheol felt like absolute shit after the day he’d just had. Between him having to yell at the HR team for fucking up some important documentation and finding a piece of jewelry that looked suspiciously like the one he’d gifted his sister at Wonwoo’s place, he felt like he’d gone through almost every single emotion in one day, even a few he didn’t know existed until today.

That’s why after providing some final feedback on Wonwoo’s quarterly report – which he’d promised to read before the end of the day – he packed up his things and headed towards his favorite bakery that was located near the SEVENTEEN World HQ. It was already 9.30 PM, but if he hurried a little bit, he’d be just in time to grab a snack before closing time at 10 PM.

Even before SEVENTEEN World had been established, JamJam was the bakery that Seungcheol frequented whenever he needed a little treat. In his case, that was usually a melon pan, the CEO’s number one comfort food.

Especially after going through something stressful, the soft and fluffy interior of the melon pan combined with its cookie-like crust, was enough to make him momentarily forget about his worries.

JamJam just so happened to have the best ones in Seoul. Flavor Factory SEVENTEEN also produced their version of the melon pan, but in Seungcheol’s opinion, that one didn’t even come close to the ones at JamJam. Of course, no hate towards Mingyu. The guy knew how to make tasty food, but he wasn’t going to win this battle, no matter how hard he tried to improve his recipe – the blind tastings that the chef had made his Hyungs sit through over the years proved again and again that JamJam’s melon pan was still the number one in the city.

With a mask disguising most of his face, Seungcheol exited his car and quickly crossed the road before entering the small but cozy bakery.

After quickly greeting the owner, Mr. Hashimoto, at the counter, he hurried towards the back of the store, where he knew the melon pan was usually located. Seungcheol was aware that it was late and that there was a chance that his favorite snack would already be gone, but he still had a little bit of hope. In the worst-case scenario, he’d end up eating a cream pan or some shokupan instead.

As he neared the familiar bread baskets, he spotted exactly what he was looking for, his eyes lighting up at the sight of a single melon pan that had been left behind.

“Thank God,” he mumbled, slightly speeding up his steps to get to it.

However, the CEO wasn’t aware of the fact that there was another person in the store looking for that same sweet Japanese bread, which is why it came as a total surprise when someone else beat him to it, snatching the treat away just mere seconds before he’d been able to grab it.

Seungcheol was in shock, furiously blinking as he tried to process what had just happened. His eyes slowly fixated on the woman who was currently holding onto his snack.

Now, he did say not too long ago that he would be fine settling for another snack if he couldn’t get ahold of a melon pan, but that was before it was practically ripped away right in front of his eyes.

Was he overreacting? His friends would probably tell him that he was. Did he care? No, he absolutely did not, not after the horrible day he’d had.

—

A movie marathon, your favorite snack and a relaxing evening on the couch. That was your plan for tonight. No worries, no stress, just a bunch of fictional characters fighting bad guys in an alternative universe – anything sounded better than having to deal with the world you were living in.

In the real world, you had to deal with your piece-of-shit boss who had once again managed to ruin your day. Today, he’d nagged you for not working fast enough, and as a punishment, he made you clean, restock, and close the shop all by yourself – turning your original 8-hour shift into a 10-hour one.

Then there was your male co-worker, Sanghoon, who’d been allowed to go home early, just because he’d “done such a good job today”. Right. What job? Being lazy and careless? You’d been doing most of the work at the coffee bar, which included fixing Sanghoon’s mistakes, for as long as you could remember.

How the guy had gotten a job at a coffee bar was a mystery to you. For someone who worked as a barista, he sure sucked at making coffee. There wasn’t a day that went by without a customer coming to you to complain about their coffee tasting like shit. Honestly, you couldn’t blame them because it really was that bad. You’d tasted Sanghoon’s coffee before and had almost thrown up at the taste of the overly bitter and sour liquid he’d produced.

So, for the sake of the company image and the customers, whenever time allowed for it, you prepared the majority of the orders.

As if that wasn’t enough, his lazy ass also refused to clean anything properly aside from occasionally wiping down the tables, sweeping the floors, and starting the automatic cleaning program on the coffee machines.

You were the only one busting your ass to make sure that everything was always in pristine condition – because no one wanted crusty-ass coffee. It sometimes made you wonder whether all of your hard work was worth it because it seriously felt like you were running the whole shop by yourself.

Still, that wasn’t even the worst, though. No. The thing that annoyed you the most was the fact that your incompetent co-worker constantly kept messing up orders left and right. At one point it, got so bad that you felt the need to double-check every single order he touched before it could even reach the customer.

There had been one incident where a customer had asked for oat milk because she was allergic to regular milk. Sanghoon, who had been in charge of preparing orders that day because you already had too many things to do, had completely disregarded the comments attached to the order and prepared the latte with regular milk.

In other words, it ended with the customer needing her EpiPen, a nasty lawsuit, and your boss screaming at you for being a “useless disgrace to the company” without even listening to your side of the story – all while Sanghoon just stood there and let you take the fall for his carelessness.

Very quickly, you learned that the guy really didn’t give a shit about any of it. He knew that when the occasion called for it, you’d be there to pick up his mess, and it infuriated you to no end. You hated yourself for putting up with it every single time, but you also knew that if you just sat back and let it happen, the shop would be out of business, and your boss would find a way to blame you for the whole thing.

Besides, even if your boss caught him slacking, he still treated him like a goddamn star player, always overlooking his failures and praising him for doing the absolute bare minimum. But God forbid if you made even the tiniest mistake. Your boss would immediately let you hear about it, even if that meant criticizing you in front of the customers – it was fair to say that you hated the man with a passion.

At least JamJam, your favorite bakery in town, had never disappointed you.

That was proven again when your eyes spotted the last melon pan, lifting your mood almost immediately. You nearly did a little happy dance after you’d taken it out of the basket, but then quickly decided against it when you noticed the CCTV camera pointing straight at you. Now was not the time to embarrass yourself in public.

“Excuse me?” You turned around at the sound of a male voice, assuming that he was talking to you since the bakery was pretty much empty at this hour.

“Can I help you?” you asked wearily, raising your eyebrows at the blond man who had approached you – the mask he was wearing covered most of his face, so it was hard to get a read on him. And seeing as you’d gone through your fair share of uncomfortable encounters with strangers, it was only natural for you to have your guard up.

To your surprise, he pointed towards the hand that was holding the snack you were planning on buying. “Would you mind giving me that melon pan?” he asked. “I really need it tonight.”

Your weary expression slowly morphed into a confused one as you raised the sweet bread slightly. “This... melon pan?” you asked, wondering where this was going.

The stranger nodded. “Yes, that one. I just got off from work, and I’ve had a pretty rough day, so I need it. It’s my favorite snack, and I’m not planning to leave the store without it.”

You almost wanted to laugh at the audacity of this guy. As if you would hand it over just because he supposedly ‘needed’ it. It wasn’t your problem that you’d been faster.

“Well, it happens to be my favorite snack too, and I’ve also had a pretty rough day, so no. I’m not giving it to you.”

“Oh, come on. What’s it going to take? Name your price,” he motioned before reaching into his pocket to pull out what you assumed was his wallet. What the hell was he doing?

“I just told you I’m not giving you this melon pan,” you responded firmly – your free hand automatically squeezed into a fist as you tried to keep your blood pressure under control.

Getting into an argument with some random stranger was not part of the relaxing evening you’d planned.

“And I said, name your price. Everyone has one. How much do you want for it? Fifty thousand won? A hundred thousand? More? Just tell me. Money is not an issue,” he shrugged nonchalantly, his wallet now wide open for you to see.

His outrageous proposition left you in a state of awe. The disgust was no doubt evident on your face, but he didn’t seem to care one bit.

“Are you seriously trying to bribe me for a fucking melon pan?!”

Judging by the way he was dressed, you were pretty certain that the guy was loaded – the combination of the dark brown suit and black coat he was wearing probably cost more than what you earned in a whole month.

Regardless, that didn’t give him the right to treat others like garbage.

“Do I look like I’m joking?” He didn’t look like he was. “You have something that I want. You’re not giving it to me, so I’m offering you an alternative that will make both of us happy,” he stated, completely oblivious to the fact that he was coming off as an entitled asshole.

“You are so unbelievably rude,” you scoffed. “I’ve never met anyone as ignorant and entitled as you. Just wow. If that’s how you treat people in your life, then you probably don’t have many friends.”

It was clear that your words had struck a nerve when the shameless stranger narrowed his eyes in response.

“I’m rude? I think you are pretty rude to someone who’s just trying to reason with you. Trust me, if you had any idea who I was, you wouldn’t be speaking to me like that.”

Oh, look, he’s a narcissist too... surprising.

“Listen, Mr. Whatever-Your-Name-Is. I’m going to say this one time. I don’t give two shits about who you are, and I’m not giving you my melon pan, so you can keep your damn money. Now, I’m going to walk away, pay for my snack and leave so that this,” you motioned between the two of you, “doesn’t escalate into something worse. Have a good life,” was the last thing you said before rushing towards the checkout.

Your blood was boiling by the time you left the store. The whole encounter with the rude stranger had put another damper on your mood, leaving you with a bitter taste in your mouth. Because just who the fuck did he think he was? And what kind of weirdo would try to bribe someone for a melon pan?

You truly hoped to never see him again.

—

Once again, Seungcheol was left frozen in his spot, watching as the woman who’d just outright disrespected him walked away with what was supposed to have been his snack.

If he thought his day couldn’t get any worse, then this was definitely the straw that broke the camel’s back.

He was a grumbling mess as he left the store with a bag full of goods. Mr. Hashimoto, who had most likely heard the whole dispute, had been nice enough not to say anything about it. Instead, he’d given Seungcheol some additional cream pans and some of his homemade nama chocolate on the house in an attempt to cheer up the sulky CEO. Very kind, of course, but any appetite Seungcheol had before coming to JamJam was now completely ruined as a result of the squabble.

On the drive home, his mind kept going back to the insults you’d thrown at his face. Rude? Ignorant? Entitled? Ha! Who were you to say that about him?

Seungcheol considered himself anything but that. He had plenty of good friends who liked him for who he was, whereas you, some random stranger who didn’t even know him, had literally made those assumptions based on the few minutes that he spent in your presence.

He didn’t really want to admit it, but your words kept bugging him. Why? That probably had something to do with you being the first one ever to tell him that to his face. Seungcheol was so used to people treating him with nothing but respect – well, that is, if you take the other twelve CEOs out of the equation – that he hadn’t expected such resistance from a stranger like you.

But then again, you hadn’t been able to recognize him with his disguise, and he liked to keep it that way. He didn’t even want to think about what would happen if reporters got wind of this humiliating incident.

When Seungcheol finally entered his apartment around 11 PM, he was immediately greeted by a little white ball of fur happily sprinting his way, her tail wagging and tongue hanging out of her mouth as she jumped at his legs.

“Hello, sweet girl. I’ve missed you,” he cooed, reaching down to lift up the small, adorable dog who was all too excited to be reunited with her owner after a long day. “I take it you’ve missed me too, Kkuma,” he smiled brightly, which was immediately followed by a chuckle as she enthusiastically licked his face.

With Seungcheol being managing CEO and having a busy schedule that often kept him away for longer periods of time, he usually had a dog sitter he trusted come around the house to feed her and take her on walks. He hated leaving her alone, and it hurt him to be away from her, but with the duties he needed to fulfill, he really had no choice.

That’s why he always made it his priority to spend as much time as possible with her whenever he didn’t have any work or social activities to attend. Seungcheol liked being around people, which shouldn’t be surprising as it was a big part of his job, but nothing beat the feeling of coming home to Kkuma and her unconditional love for him.

No matter what, Kkuma always had the ability to put a smile on Seungcheol’s face. She’d witnessed both the good and the bad over the many years that she’d been with him. And even though she couldn’t understand ninety-nine percent of the things her owner told her – rants included – she was always happy to listen to him.

Kkuma was like his own form of therapy, his safe place that brought him comfort when he needed it.

“Let’s call Jeonghan and tell him about the mean woman who took my snack, hmm?” he proposed after having dropped the JamJam bag off in the kitchen and taking a seat on his ginormous couch – Kkuma was now comfortably tucked against his chest, recovering from the energy burst she’d had at seeing Seungcheol.

“This better be urgent. I was about to sleep,” Jeonghan’s tired voice sounded as soon as he answered the call.

“Well, it’s urgent to me.”

“Oh jeez, here we go.” The other CEO released a sigh of exasperation, knowing that he wasn’t going to get to sleep anytime soon.

Seungcheol’s eyes rolled at his friend’s dramatics. “Don’t be like that. I think you’ll want to hear this.”

“I doubt it.”

“Anyway, you won’t believe what just happened to me,” Seungcheol started, choosing to ignore Jeonghan’s disinterest in the matter. “I had a shitty day, so I went to JamJam, and then this woman just snatched the last melon pan right in front of my eyes! I tried to tell her that I really needed it, but she wouldn’t give it up.”

“Obviously. Can’t blame her,” Jeonghan yawned.

Seungcheol clenched his jaw in frustration at the CEO’s disregard. “Just let me finish. That’s not the worst thing. I even offered to give money in exchange for that melon pan, bu-”

The man on the other side of the phone was suddenly wide awake. “Wait, wait, wait, hold on. Did I hear that right? You offered her money for a snack?!”

“Yes! But what did I get in return? She called me rude, ignorant and entitled. And for what? I was being nice about it and gave her a way to earn some easy money.”

Jeonghan released a deep sigh at the other man’s words. “Cheol, you can’t just go around bribing people to get whatever you want.”

“Why not? It seemed pretty reasonable to me. Besides, who doesn’t want money in this economy?” Seungcheol shrugged, even though the other CEO wasn’t able to see.

“Are you really that oblivious? Of course you’re going to get cussed out if you do stupid shit like that. It makes you sound like an asshole.”

That earned a scoff from the managing CEO. “So, what you’re saying is that I was wrong, and she was right to be so disrespectful?”

“Oh, that’s exactly what I’m saying. If that were me, I would have wiped the floor with your ass.”

“Yah! Aren’t you supposed to be on my side? You’re my best friend.”

“Exactly. I’m your best friend, so I get to call you out on your bullshit. This is one of those instances. You need to realize that not everything can be solved with money, Cheol.”

“Ugh, whatever. You know what? Just go to sleep. I don’t need you to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do.”

The last thing Seungcheol needed right now was a lecture from Jeonghan.

“Cheol, come on. You’re being stubborn right now, and you know it.”

“Goodnight, Jeonghan.” Seungcheol ended the call right after that, not even bothering to wait for his friend’s response. “Is it too much to ask for some support?” he grumbled before directing his attention back to Kkuma.

She was now lying in his lap, looking up at him with big, curious eyes. Seungcheol smiled in response, leaning down to place a kiss on the top of her head, which was answered with some enthusiastic tail wagging.

“At least I can count on my sweet girl, right?

“Thanks, Haewon. I’ll check out a new place first, and then I’ll meet you as soon as I can.”

Seungcheol ended the call with his secretary, who’d just informed him that his favorite coffee place had closed down for good. She was usually the one who got his coffee in the mornings, but now that his usual spot was unavailable, he needed to find a new place that would be able to meet his standards. And since Seungcheol tended to be quite picky when it came to his daily fix of caffeine, Haewon knew better than to get him a random coffee from a place he hadn’t approved of.

“What’s a good place?” he mumbled to himself as he scrolled through a large list of Seoul’s best coffee places.

There were lots of coffee spots to choose from, but none of them were special enough to catch the CEO’s eyes.

The majority of the highly rated ones were either too hipster or too tacky for his taste, whereas several of the ones that looked rather nice had a large number of negative reviews that made him think twice about visiting.

After a good ten minutes of scrolling, Seungcheol was starting to lose hope. He was supposed to be at a meeting in a little bit over an hour and if he didn’t have a decent cup of coffee to start the day off with, he would be in a bad mood for the rest of it. And with how yesterday had ended, he really wanted today to be different – at this rate, that wasn’t going to happen.

At least, that was until he came across a place called Oh My! Coffee. It was a small but cozy-looking vintage coffee bar located on the outskirts of Seoul, which Seungcheol thought was great since there would be less traffic holding him back. Plus, most of the reviews he’d read were both recent and extremely positive about the quality of the coffee.

Apparently, it was enough to convince Seungcheol to go check it out because before he knew it, he’d started the engine of his luxurious sports car and made his way to the coffee bar.

The place looked exactly like the pictures he’d seen on Naver. The facade of the coffee bar was completely made out of oak wood, with vines of purple and pink flowers decorating the two large see-through doors to contrast the dark color of the oak.

Inside, the lights had been slightly dimmed to create an elegantly subtle glow of orange, which – combined with the soft jazz music playing in the background – gave the whole place a pleasant and relaxing ambiance.

Various vintage items adorned the walls of the cozy, homey shop, and though there wasn’t a lot of space, with the strategic way in which the small wooden tables had been set up, it was enough to accommodate a couple of coffee lovers who wanted to enjoy their beverage in a picturesque setting.

Seungcheol was already in love with the place, and he hadn’t even tried the coffee yet. Judging from the mouthwatering, smoky coffee aroma that invaded his nostrils as soon as he stepped inside, he was fairly certain that he wasn’t going to be disappointed.

But then his eyes fell on the barista, who was standing behind the counter, seemingly lost in her own world as she cleaned her workspace.

The CEO froze in his spot, his heart rate picking up at the sight that greeted him because it was no one other than you, the stranger who had disrespected him and ruined what should have been a nice evening with his favorite snack.

He never planned on seeing you again after last night, and he certainly didn’t plan to end up at the coffee bar you worked at. How could fate have been so cruel to lead him right back to you when all he wanted was a peaceful morning and a good cup of coffee? That was definitely not going to happen if you recognized him.

That thought immediately got Seungcheol into gear. A sudden boost of energy rushed through his body as he tried to be as subtle as possible. His feet were moving backwards, slowly taking him back towards the large double doors through which he had entered not too long ago.

He almost succeeded, but due to his poor spatial awareness, he managed to hit the heel of his black Derby shoe against the door – the sound it created was loud... too loud for you not to hear it.

“Oh, hi there! Can I help you with something?”

Your cheery tone surprised the CEO, mainly because it was a complete one-eighty from last night, where you’d sounded anything but happy. But here you were, smiling away like you hadn’t just told him that he was rude, ignorant, and entitled. It was almost as if...

She doesn’t recognize me.

“If you need some time to look, that’s fine. But I can also give you some recommendations if you’re not sure what to get,” you continued, that bright smile still adorning your face.

Seungcheol didn’t know whether to be relieved or creeped out by it.

Still, against his better judgment, he decided to play dumb and pretend like he didn’t know you. He was already running late, and he needed coffee, so what did he have to lose?

Clearing his throat, he carefully made his way to the counter before scanning his eyes over the large menu that hung on the wall behind you.

“Could I, uh, have a cafe latte?”

“Sure! Small, medium, or large?” you asked, your fingers hovering above the register as you waited for his response.

“Medium is fine, no sugar.”

“Hot or cold?”

“Hot.”

“Anything else?”

“No, I’m good. Thanks.”

You nodded, looking away briefly to finalize his order before pointing to a second screen that showed his total. “That will be 4,700 won, please.”

“Do you accept card too?” Seungcheol asked while fishing his wallet out of his pocket.

—

“Yes, we do,” you answered, stopping in your tracks as your eyes fixated on the man’s wallet.

Wait. That wallet…

“Great! Here you go then.” And that voice… no fucking way.

You swiftly shifted your gaze back to the man’s face. When you’d first spotted him standing in the shop, you thought that there was something familiar about him – you just hadn’t been able to pinpoint it. But everything suddenly clicked as you took him in again.

The blond hair, the dark brown almond-shaped eyes, the goddamn wallet that he’d so brazenly taken from his pocket in an attempt to bribe you.

He was wearing a blue suit instead of the dark brown one he’d worn yesterday, and his black coat had been replaced by a brown one that looked even more expensive. Even his white mask had been switched out for a black one. Still, there was no doubt in your mind that it was him… Melon pan dude.

How in the hell had he ended up here… at your place of work of all places?

“Aren’t you going to take it?” he questioned, tilting his head quizzically when you still hadn’t taken the credit card that he was holding out.

“Right,” you grumbled before snatching the card right out of his hand rather harshly.

Any type of joy you’d felt at the prospect of getting to make another one of your coffee creations had disappeared as soon as you realized who you’d be making it for.

“Yah! What the hell?” the man exclaimed, his eyes narrowing at your action. “Is this how you treat your customers?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you looked him dead in the eyes as you swiped his card. “Only the ones that deserve it.”

“Excuse me?!”

“You heard me,” you replied, your voice void of any emotion as you calmly placed his card back onto the counter.

You knew damn well that if your boss caught you treating any customer this way, he’d give you hell for it. But you just couldn’t help it. Even though you’d only met the man yesterday, he already managed to evoke such extreme emotions from you that you couldn’t just stay silent and pretend like he wasn’t a total prick.

The stranger scoffed as he slid his credit card back into his wallet. “You know, I didn’t even want to be here in the first place. Do you think I’d willingly go to a place where the staff doesn’t even respect me?”

“Then why are you here? Plenty of coffee places to choose from,” you retorted, turning around briefly to start on his coffee. He did pay for it after all – the sooner you got it done, the sooner he’d leave you alone.

“It’s nice to know you’re rude both at and outside of work,” the man sneered.

You chuckled bitterly at his words as you worked on his beverage. “Oh, so now you’re calling me rude? Isn’t that a little hypocritical for someone who tried to bribe me for a fucking snack?”

“I’m not reliving this bullshit again,” he snapped.

“You asked for it,” you said nonchalantly as you turned back around, the milk you’d just steamed in your right hand and the cup of coffee in your left hand.

“When the hell did I- You know what? Just give me what I came for, and I’ll be out of here... for good,” he sneered.

“Trust me, there’s nothing I want more,” you grumbled, feeling this close to throwing the hot drink in his face with the amount of adrenaline that was coursing through your body.

It was tempting, but you really didn’t want to ruin your life and end up in jail for assaulting someone who wasn’t even worth your time and energy.

“Good. Hurry up then.”

Your jaw clenched at his demanding tone, but you chose to ignore it for now. Instead, you focused on the tulip you were trying to create. You’d thought about pouring the milk into the shape of a middle finger but decided against it when you realized that he might use that to ruin the company name – you wouldn’t put it past him to call you out on social media.

You had hoped that he would have taken the coffee and left without another word, but of course, he had to ruin that scenario by opening his mouth to start something... again.

“Let’s see if this coffee is really as good as the reviews say. I doubt the barista they were talking about was you,” he snickered as he grabbed a lid and a sleeve for his cup.

“Asshole,” you muttered, your fingers clenching around the counter as you tried to keep it together for just a bit longer. Two could play that game, though. “Well, just so you know, the melon pan I got was delicious,” you emphasized, watching in delight as his cocky expression morphed into one of anger at your mention of the melon pan.

Serves him right.

“Whatever,” he huffed with a glare directed your way. “I’m out of here,” was the final thing he said before turning around and storming away with his fresh coffee.

“Oh, oh,” you whispered to yourself as you noticed your boss enter not even two seconds after the stranger had stormed out of the shop. And he did not look happy.

“What the hell was that? Did you just piss off one of our customers?”

You averted your gaze down, mentally preparing yourself for the scolding that was about to come. “It wasn’t what it looked like.”

“It wasn’t? So, you’re telling me that man didn’t just storm out of here, huh?” He was standing right next to you now, a little too close for your liking.

“I guess he wasn't in the best mood,” you mumbled, praying that he'd just let you off with a warning.

“Not the best mood, huh? How many times have I told you to treat our customers with respect? Do you even want to keep your job?” he hissed as he slammed his hands down on the counter, the unexpected sound making you flinch in your spot.

“I do,” you responded, gritting your teeth in frustration.

“Then act like it for once. You better hope that he doesn't write us a bad review because that will be on you. Am I clear? We should be lucky if he still wants to come back here after your shitty service. Sanghoon would never act like this.”

You couldn't suppress the scoff that you were holding at his ridiculous statement. Yes, you admit that you could have been more professional to the stranger, but it had been a special circumstance, and you’d acted a little out of character. But to compare you to Sanghoon like that? Ha! All your incompetent co-worker ever did was get on your nerves and sit on his ass while he typed away on his phone. So yes, of course, he would never act like that when you were doing all the work he was getting paid for.

“You think this is a fucking joke, Y/N?”

“No, Sir,” you muttered, almost wanting to slap yourself for losing control of your emotions in front of your boss.

“Let's see if you think this is funny. Count this as your last warning. If I catch you treating any customer badly, you're out. I'm sick and tired of your shit, so let this be a lesson. Fix that attitude, or you're fired. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir,” you replied, deciding that speaking up would only make it worse. You couldn't afford to lose your job, not without a proper backup plan set in place.

“Good. Then get to work. You're on your own today.”

A frown made its way onto your face as you processed your boss’ words. “Sanghoon is not coming in?”

“What about being on your own don't you get? He took the day off. That's all you need to know.”

“Of course he fucking did,” you muttered under your breath as you got ready to start your chores for the day.

This was like the third time he'd taken a day off this month, leaving you with a shit ton of work to do on your own. You, however, were lucky if you managed to get one or two days off once every four months. Yes, you were aware that it wasn’t very ethical, but there was a reason you’d been putting up with this bullshit for so long.

It just so happened that Oh My! Coffee was among the highest-paying coffee shops in Seoul, believe it or not. Your boss was greedy and always looking for new ways to save or make money, but he at least had the common sense to compensate his employees adequately.

Any other person might have wondered why a man as greedy as him would willingly pay his staff more than the legally required minimum wage, but you couldn’t care less. All you knew was that your current salary allowed you to live comfortably – comfortable enough to put aside a small amount of money from time to time without having to worry about being able to afford your rent.

The offers you’d received from other coffee shops you’d applied for at the time had all been significantly less generous, which, naturally, had been the deciding factor for you to take the job at Oh My! Coffee. And now here you were, stuck with an asshole of a boss and a good-for-nothing co-worker – that is, if you could even really call him a co-worker at all.

Your situation was far from ideal. That much was obvious. But it wasn’t like you hadn’t been trying to look for other options. Up till now, all your search attempts had resulted in disappointment because there really seemed to be no shop that was able to match or beat your current salary. Besides, no matter how hard things could get at times, you simply weren’t willing to sacrifice that little bit of financial freedom you had.

Unless you could find an opportunity that would improve your current financial situation, quitting your job was out of the question.

So, for the time being – as shitty as it was – your boss not giving you any proper days off was just another thing on the list to prove that he was a sexist piece of shit who loved to make your life a living hell.

“Y/N!” Now what? “Didn't I tell you to clean the windows properly last time? I want you to do it again. And there better not be a speck of dirt when I come back.”

“I'm on it!” you called, already dreading the fact that it was going to be another long and exhausting day.

The next morning, Seungcheol found himself standing in front of Oh My! Coffee once again, despite having promised himself that he’d never come back here. How did that happen? He blamed it on you and your damn good coffee.

Seungcheol hated to admit it, but the reviews about the vintage coffee bar hadn’t been wrong one bit. Even though the CEO thought you were extremely rude, the cafe latte you’d served him yesterday was no doubt the best coffee he’d ever tasted.

The nutty aroma, together with the subtle earthy undertones, gave the coffee a depth of flavor that he couldn’t get enough of. Every sip had been so smooth and rich, with a coffee-milk ratio that ensured a perfect balance of flavors – the sweetness of the milk had perfectly complemented the boldness of the coffee.

Although it went against his wishes, he did make some efforts to find a new coffee place – simply because he wasn’t looking forward to having yet another frivolous confrontation with you.

Similar to yesterday, he’d scrolled through the Naver list, checked out reviews, and finally stumbled upon another place that looked like it would meet his standards. However, after taking one sip of the beverage he’d ordered, he already found himself throwing the cup in the trash as soon as he’d exited the shop.

It was like you’d completely ruined any other coffee experience for him. He’d had a taste of your coffee, and there was no going back, no matter how much he tried to convince himself that there had to be other places like that out there. Seungcheol contemplated with himself for a good fifteen minutes before he finally gave in to his craving.

But as he stood in front of the large double doors again, he suddenly wasn’t so sure whether he made the right decision to come back here. Because why was he so willing to put himself into potentially another petty argument for a cup of coffee?

In any case, he could’ve just requested his secretary to get it for him, so why didn’t he? Why did he feel the need to pick it up himself and risk starting another squabble?

Was it because he suddenly preferred to experience the smell of freshly made coffee first-hand? Or was it because some part of him was looking forward to seeing you, the disrespectful stranger who didn’t seem afraid to stand up to him?

“No way,” he breathed with a shake of his head. “It’s definitely the coffee.” Nothing more, nothing less.

He would just get his coffee and leave before things could escalate.

“You’re back,” you exclaimed as soon as you noticed Seungcheol walk up to the register.

Unlike yesterday, you’d immediately recognized him without him having to utter a single word – he figured as much.

“Yeah, got a problem with that?” he mused with raised brows, preparing himself for one of your sassy comebacks.

Instead, you smiled brightly and shook your head. “No, not at all! We, uh, we’re glad you chose to come back.”

“Okay?”

Seungcheol was taken aback by your switch in attitude once again. You definitely recognized him. He was sure of that. So why were you suddenly pretending as if you didn’t have another argument yesterday? He’d at least expected some resistance from your side. It made him feel almost... disappointed. Or was it confusion he was feeling? Either way, it was odd, and it made him slightly uncomfortable for some unknown reason.

The sound of a throat clearing rather loudly pulled his attention away from you and towards the man who was standing to your left, his arms crossed and a look on his face that didn’t seem all too friendly – and it was definitely directed at you.

“And…,” Seungcheol turned his gaze back to you. “I would like to apologize for my behavior yesterday. That wasn’t professional. I’m sorry,” you added, your voice tense and slightly raspy.

Based on the fact that you were struggling to get the words out, he assumed that your apology wasn’t voluntary and most definitely not sincere. His guess was that the man in the corner – whom Seungcheol guessed was your boss – had something to do with it. But since he hadn’t come here to cause any trouble, he decided to just go along with it for your sake and for the sake of his future coffees.

“Sure, no problem. Let’s just forget about it,” he nodded, his eyes flicking back between you and the other man, who had now moved to stand beside you. “Could I just get the same thing I ordered yesterday?”

Your body visibly relaxed at his positive response, so he knew that he’d made the right decision by not causing a scene right now.

“Of course.”

As the CEO was waiting for you to finish his coffee, he noticed that the man still hadn’t moved from his spot at the counter.

“Is there something I can help you with?” Seungcheol asked, raising his brows at the man who obviously wanted something from him with the way he kept staring.

“No, no! I’m just really glad that you decided to come back. It’s such an honor to have you in my shop, Mr. Choi.”

The CEO was glad that he had no liquid in his mouth, or he would have spit it all out the moment his name was mentioned.

“You know who I am?” he asked, his eyes flicking to you for a second. Only you didn’t seem to be fazed by the revelation, your eyes not even once straying from the coffee you were working on.

Did you know him? Or did you just not care about who he was?

“Of course! How could I not recognize you? You’re the managing CEO of SEVENTEEN World. I’d be able to spot an icon such as yourself anywhere.”

Seungcheol frowned slightly, wondering if his disguise was really that bad. Perhaps it was time to start adding beanies to his wardrobe from now on.

“Uh, yeah. Well, I’d like to keep that on the down low if you don’t mind.”

“Yes, I totally understand. But no worries, Sir. My lips are sealed,” the man assured him, which was followed by a smile that looked too fake to be genuine. “Ah, how rude of me! I totally forgot to introduce myself. My name is Park Wonshik,” he bowed before continuing. “If you need anything, and I mean anything, just let me know, and we’ll make it happen.”

The CEO quickly had to mask the snort that threatened to escape with a cough. Who did this man think he was? Did he really believe that this little act of his was going to get him anywhere? Whoever told him that sucking up to one of Korea’s most successful businessmen was a good idea was dead wrong. If anything, it only put Seungcheol off and made him want to get out of there as soon as possible.

“I doubt I’ll need anything other than my coffee,” he finally said, his eyes shifting back to you in the hope the man would take the hint and drop whatever phony act he was putting on.

“Right! Your coffee. Y/N? How are you doing with Mr. Choi’s drink?”

The smile that had been on your boss’ face just seconds ago dropped immediately as soon as his attention turned to you, now replaced by a scowl that was anything but amicable.

You lifted your head briefly to glance at your boss. “It’s almost done, Sir,” you responded dully, seemingly unbothered by the look your boss was throwing your way.

It was almost as if you were used to this kind of behavior from him.

“Well, would you hurry it up already? We don’t have all day,” he sneered and relaxed his facial muscles before turning his focus back to the CEO. “Apologies, Sir. Y/N tends to be a bit slow sometimes, but I assure you that it will only take a moment,” he spoke, throwing him another fabricated smile as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

Seungcheol was flabbergasted by the abrupt change in demeanor, unable to form a response in that moment. It made him wonder if the man even knew how ridiculous he looked – trying to come off as a well-established business owner who had his shit together when it was, in fact, obvious that he needed to work on his people skills.

Although you and the CEO weren’t on the best terms, he knew for a fact that spending less than five minutes on making a coffee did not equal being ‘slow’. Hell, even if it was, he’d happily wait for ten or twenty minutes if it meant he got to have another one of those mind-blowing lattes.

In Seungcheol’s eyes, anyone who treated their employees with disrespect was automatically guaranteed a spot in his bad books. From what he had seen of Park Wonshik in the few minutes he spent in the shop, the man was already well on his way to get there.

How the hell did you manage to put up with that on a daily basis?

—

You were trying not to let your boss get to you. Keyword: trying. But the man was making it nearly impossible with the way he was bossing you around in front of the one person you really didn’t want to see... Melon pan dude.

Why had he even come back in the first place? As far as you could remember, he’d made it abundantly clear that he would stay away “for good” after yesterday’s debacle, so what the hell was he getting at? Did he come back just to get a reaction out of you? If that was the case, then he was sure out of luck because he wouldn’t be getting any more fight out of you.

Your boss had drilled it into your head that he wouldn’t tolerate any more mistakes on your end, and you weren’t going to try and test his limit.

Just this morning, he’d made sure to remind you again after giving you another scolding as soon as you’d stepped foot into the coffee bar. Because not only had you offended and scared away a potential regular customer, you’d royally fucked up and offended “the one and only CEO Choi Seungcheol of SEVENTEEN World,” as your boss put it.

At first, you thought that he was talking out of his ass, but then it became clear that your crazy boss had actually scoured the CCTV footage for your little argument with the man. And apparently, he discovered that one of the outdoor cameras had managed to catch a glimpse of the CEO in front of his car, where he’d lowered his mask to take a sip of his coffee before taking off – that sight had been enough for your boss to put two and two together.

It shouldn’t have surprised you that your boss already knew all about the CEO and the SEVENTEEN World corporation. The man was a greedy fucker who would do about anything to get to the top, so scoring a billionaire as a regular was the equivalent of hitting the jackpot.

To think that he’d potentially lost such an S-Class customer as a result of your “shitty attitude” no doubt made him want to make your work life even more miserable than it already was. But how were you supposed to have known that your newfound rival was actually one of the most influential people in South Korea?

Of course, you’d heard of SEVENTEEN World. How could you not have when it was one of the biggest corporations out there and literally everywhere? You just hadn’t bothered to familiarize yourself with it and its CEOs because, well... why would you? It wasn’t something you were interested in, and you weren’t about to be either.

Honestly, you couldn’t give two shits about one of the CEOs coming to the shop. So what if he was famous? So what if he was filthy rich? In your eyes, he was still the rude stranger who’d tried to bribe you the other night. No amount of money or fame was going to change that.

You did have to admit that although you weren’t particularly happy to see him, a part of you was relieved that he’d returned for another coffee. It meant that your job was safe for now and that your boss had one less reason to hate you. But then again, that didn’t mean that he was going to stop criticizing you and making you look bad in front of customers. Of course, that would have been wishful thinking.

You’d already accepted that the universe hated you a long time ago, so you just had to suck it up for the time being.

At least Melon pan dude had taken the hint and let you off easy today. The last thing you needed right now was for the two of you to start another petty argument in front of your superior. Because with the way your boss was trying to kiss the CEO’s ass, you were pretty sure that even if the CEO were to provoke you again, he’d happily let him and then continue to blame you for upsetting the customer in the aftermath of it all.

Yeah, you weren’t about to let that happen. You’d finish the coffee and take your break without causing a fuss. Simple and easy, just how you liked it.

“Your coffee is done,” you finally announced, placing the steaming latte onto the counter under the watchful eye of your boss.

Similar to yesterday, the CEO grabbed a lid and a cup sleeve from the counter.

“Thanks,” he nodded, picking up his hot beverage.

“Enjoy it and have a nice day,” you responded with a polite nod before starting to move towards the back. You really needed a short break after all of this.

At the same time, your useless co-worker decided to return from his own morning break.

Going against company policy, he’d extended his official fifteen-minute break with an additional fifteen minutes. It was typical Sanghoon behavior, so you weren’t exactly surprised. He loved to bend the rules to do whatever the fuck he pleased, and your misogynistic boss just let him.

It wasn’t fair… not in the slightest, but what could you do? Complaining about it would only end up with your break time getting cut – yes, you were speaking from experience. So, over time, you’d just learned to appreciate any break you could get, no matter how short it was.

“What do you think you’re doing?” your boss interfered, putting himself between you and the door to prevent you from leaving.

“Taking my break?” you questioned with a frown, not at all liking his tone.

Somehow you already knew that this wouldn’t end with you having a few peaceful minutes to yourself.

He quickly shook his head, a bitter chuckle leaving his mouth at your question. “Oh no, you’re not. There’s still more than enough work for you to do before you can even think of taking a break. I need you to start sorting the inventory and do a deep cleanse while you’re at it.”

Was he fucking serious?

“Sanghoon was supposed to do that though,” you mumbled as you could feel your blood pressure start to increase with every second that passed.

“And I’m telling you that you’re going to do it instead. Sanghoon has more than enough important things to do.”

Important things? Yeah right. Then why is the useless idiot currently slouched on a chair with his face buried in his phone?

That’s what you were thinking, but definitely not what came out of your mouth.

“But, Sir. That’s just not fa-”

“Y/N. I don’t want to hear anything. Or do I have to remind you again that you’re already walking on thin ice? Just do your damn job for once without opening that big mouth of yours.”

You sighed, not having it in you to put up a fight. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Then get to it. I’ll come check on you later,” he said, stepping aside to let you through. “Oh! Mr. Choi! You’re still here? How’s the coffee? To your liking, I hope?”

Your head turned around so fast that you could have sworn you heard something snap in your neck. Based on the frown that had taken over the CEO’s face and the look he was giving your boss, you guessed that he’d just witnessed all of that.

Why was he still here?

“It’s...” his eyes met yours for a moment, “perfect,” he stated, his mask already back in place before you even had the chance to get a proper look at his face.

“Wonderful! We hope to see you back many more times!” your boss exclaimed loudly. “Y/N? Don’t you have something to do?” he asked, even though you knew it was anything but a question with the pointed look he threw your way.

“Right,” you muttered and reluctantly turned around without another word, mentally preparing yourself for the horrible assignment you were tasked with.

Still, you couldn’t stop the slight smirk from appearing as you made your way to the storage room. Knowing that you’d proved the cocky man wrong with your barista skills gave your ego enough of a boost to make the day just a bit more bearable.

In all your years of coffee making, no one had ever been able to resist your coffee. It was just that good. Yes, you knew you sounded a bit arrogant, but you wouldn’t be saying it if it wasn’t absolutely true – the power your coffee held was exactly what kept the place running.

On that note, you were fairly certain that you’d be seeing a lot more of each other from now on, whether you liked it or not.

Just as you had predicted, that was exactly what happened. In the days that followed, the CEO stopped by the coffee bar once a day – nearly always in the morning and always for the exact same order: a medium-sized cafe latte.

With you working six days a week and with Sanghoon being close to useless, encountering him was practically inevitable. Fortunately, for the most part, the two of you managed to be cordial with one another, aside from the occasional taunting remarks that the businessman threw your way. You knew that he was trying to get you to react to him because that was just who he was – a provocative little shit. But you couldn’t let yourself get carried away, not when you knew that your boss was watching your every move.

Ever since your superior had revealed that he used the camera feed to discover that Melon pan dude was, in fact, a rich businessman, you’d become even more conscious of how you behaved during work hours. Because who knows how many times he had already done this before?

Up until about a week ago, you believed that it had been a one-time thing. But of course, you should have known better.

After serving the last customers from the morning rush, your boss requested that you prepare his coffee and bring it to his office. You hadn’t thought anything of it because it wasn’t the first time you’d done so. However, what you didn’t expect to find was him casually reviewing the camera footage of you and the SEVENTEEN World CEO from two days prior – you knew that because of the purple hoodie you’d worn underneath your apron that day.

Although the discovery had shocked you at first, you couldn’t exactly say that you were surprised about any of it. It certainly explained how he always knew about everything that went on despite being present at the shop for only about half of your six-day workweek – God knows what that man did besides constantly bossing you around and ruining your mood.

Regardless, that didn’t make the whole thing any less creepy. Spying on your employees through the camera feed? What kind of crazy psycho shit was that?

The worst thing of all was that he hadn’t even tried to conceal it. If anything, it was almost like he’d wanted you to see it.

As soon as he noticed that you’d caught on with what he’d been up to before you showed up, he was all too happy to show you the setup, just so that he could let you know that he was “watching you” and that you should be thinking twice about “messing up or mistreating valuable customers.”

What he probably hadn’t realized was the fact that he’d also indirectly revealed the spots inside the shop that the cameras failed to capture. So, despite the burning hatred you felt for the man and his disgusting behavior, you had taken advantage of the moment and memorized every single one of them to the best of your ability.

Even though it didn’t help you get rid of the problem that was your meddlesome boss, at least it would allow you to hide whenever you needed a moment to breathe – or in the case of Melon pan dude, you were able to use the blind spots to temporarily drop the fake act and reciprocate his provocations with your own.

It was around the fifth day of him visiting the coffee bar when you got to ‘test’ one of said blind spots for the first time. And no, it definitely hadn’t been planned. But the CEO had managed to piss you off to the point where you felt like you had no choice but to snap and let him know that you were anything but happy with his stupid actions.

—

It was close to noon. The shop was pretty much empty at this hour, apart from the two regulars who were drinking their coffee in peace at their usual tables. Sanghoon was in the back doing God knows what while you were in the middle of restocking the coffee and milk supply.

You were ecstatic about the fact that your boss wouldn’t be at the shop today, which, for you, meant that no one would be screaming in your ear during quiet moments such as these. Instead, you were able to take advantage of the situation and enjoy the soothing jazz music playing in the background while you busied yourself with your small task.

As you softly hummed along to the melodic tunes, you subconsciously found your thoughts drifting to no one other than Melon pan dude.

Strangely enough, the man had yet to come in for his usual coffee order. Based on the majority of his previous visits, you’d established that he preferred to get his coffee early in the morning, right before the biggest morning rush.

But he was a CEO after all. Perhaps something important had come up? Or had he finally managed to find another place that served better coffee than you did?

The latter shouldn’t have bugged you as much as it did, but the thought of there being another barista in Seoul who could top your coffee creations was bringing out your competitive side. Then again, why did you even care? It was Melon pan dude you were talking about. Losing someone like him to the competition was definitely not something you were going to cry about.

Your boss, however, would probably be the only one crying about it – and then find a way to pin the whole thing on you.

“You’re thinking about me, aren’t you?” a familiar voice shook you out of your thoughts.

Your eyes flicked over to the person in question, their sparkling eyes staring right at you as it dawned on you who was standing on the other side of the counter.

Speaking of the devil.

The CEO’s blond hair was covered by an orange beanie that seemed to match perfectly well with the black coat he’d chosen to wear today. Similarly, his face was once again hidden behind a white mask, even though you were pretty sure that he was smirking based on the way his eyes scrunched up ever so slightly.

“In your dreams,” you scoffed but quickly composed yourself when you realized where you were.

Technically, he wasn’t wrong – you had been thinking about him – but it wasn’t like you were going to tell him that.

As if he would need anything else to inflate that big ego of his.

The CEO chuckled in response and rested his hands on the counter to lean a little closer “Oh, come on. You can’t deny that you missed me at least a little bit,” he teased.

You cleared your throat in response, choosing to ignore his statement. Whatever had caused him to delay his coffee run was really none of your business. You had a job to do after all.

“What is it going to be today? The usual?”

“Yeah,” he said before turning his body slightly to let his eyes scan through the shop as you typed in the order. “Wait. I’ll drink it here. And add a glass of fresh orange juice and a piece of that red velvet cake while you’re at it,” he continued, pointing to the display left from the register.

“Ehm, sure?” you responded, surprised that he even wanted to stay when there was the risk of being spotted. What happened to staying low-key? “I’ll bring it out soon. Just take a seat.”

That alone should have been enough foreshadowing for what was about to happen. Because you should have known that your day was going to be ruined one way or another. If it wasn’t your boss or Sanghoon, then it had to be the cocky CEO who had decided to deviate from his usual morning routine.

“Your order,” you said after you had made your way over to the table he had chosen to sit at.

It was located at the very back of the shop, and fairly out of sight from anyone entering through the double doors due to the various plants and decorations surrounding the small table. You guessed it made sense that he would choose such a spot with him being well-known and all.

The man immediately looked up from his phone when you announced your presence. “Here. Let me help you with that,” he insisted as he put the device away.

Before you even had a chance to open your mouth in protest, he had already reached up to grab the cup of coffee from the serving tray you were holding.

The unexpected move caused all the weight of the remaining item to shift to the back of the tray, which would have been fine if you had been prepared – only you weren’t. And with your other hand holding the slice of cake you’d wanted to put down first, there was no way to stop the tray from toppling over.

You watched in horror as the large glass of orange juice tipped in your direction, the liquid spilling out of the glass and simultaneously staining your clothes, as well as the brand-new shoes that you had bought a few days ago with your hard-earned money.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, the glass continued to fall off the tray, shattering into a million pieces right at your feet. The harsh sound it created echoed through the nearly empty space, interrupting the cozy atmosphere and startling the two regulars who had been in their peaceful bubbles.

For the first few seconds that followed you didn’t say anything, your gaze fixated on the twinkling glass shards decorating the wooden floor. You were trying to determine if you hadn’t just imagined this whole scenario. It was all just a little too much to process for you at that moment. Was this karma’s way of finally catching up with you for taking that last melon pan? If so, you truly hoped that it would eventually make its way back to the man to ruin his day – it was only fair in your opinion.

Somehow, you managed to gather yourself and immediately turned around to apologize to the two customers for the noise before focusing your attention back on the businessman, whose eyes went big at the series of unfortunate events that had just occurred.

“What the hell, dude? Why did you do that?!” you exclaimed, all your etiquette thrown completely out the window the second you opened your mouth.

Fortunately for you, you quickly realized that you were standing right in one of the blind spots you’d memorized not too long ago. In other words, there was no reason for you to hold back the anger you felt coursing through your body.

“I was trying to help!” he gasped, holding up his hands in defense.

“Well, obviously you didn’t. Look at this!” You frantically motioned to your current state. “You don’t just take something off a tray when someone is holding it. That’s just common sense,” you grumbled, lifting one of your feet in an attempt to shake off the drops of orange juice that had landed on your white sneakers.

“I’m really sorry,” he mumbled, his eyes taking in your drenched form.

Anyone who took a quick look at him might have thought that he felt bad for you with the way his hand was covering his mouth. But with you being so close in proximity and his mask now completely removed, you could see his face slowly beginning to turn red. That, together with the raised cheeks and the little shake of his shoulders made it fairly obvious that he was desperately trying to suppress his laughter.

“You think this is funny? Seriously dude? This is your goddamn fault,” you frowned as you placed the cake onto a nearby empty table and bent down to carefully collect some of the large shards of glass.

“I don't,” he shook his head, but couldn’t help but let out a snort. “Okay, maybe a little? I mean, it is kinda funny to see you like this,” he continued, his eyes scrunching up before he finally allowed himself to laugh.

“You are unbelievable,” you huffed, your hands slightly trembling from the adrenaline that was rushing through your body.

This man was definitely not good for your health – you could literally feel your blood pressure rising with every second that passed. How could he just sit there and laugh when you were clearly upset?

“I honestly don’t see why people idolize you. Amazing CEO, my ass.”

Your words caused his mood to do a complete one-eighty, the smile that had been on his face just a second ago now replaced with a glare that he directed your way.

“Hey! What does me being a CEO have to do with anything? It’s not my fault you can’t balance for shit,” he retorted.

Yep, you definitely hurt his precious little ego there.

“Well, maybe if you’d read the room and learned some manners, none of this would have happened in the first place.”

He chuckled bitterly in response. “Manners? Me? Says the one who keeps insulting the customer.”

“Oh, boohoo. Am I supposed to feel bad for you now? I have an actual job to do here if that wasn't obvious already,” you snapped as you put the pieces of glass you’d collected onto the tray you were still holding.

“You’re doing a pretty shitty job yeah,” he stated before nonchalantly sipping his coffee as if he hadn’t just offended you.

Although what you really wanted was to retaliate and cuss him out some more, you decided to bite your tongue for now. After all, the two regulars were still in the shop, and you couldn’t afford to let them see you completely go off on another customer. You had at least that much self-control. Instead, you briefly closed your eyes and took a deep breath before opening your mouth again.

“You really don't know when to stop, do you?”

“I guess not, but that's what keeps things fun, right?” he smirked, which was followed by an obnoxious wink being sent your way.

The freaking nerve of this man was truly something. In all your years of living, you didn’t think you’d ever met anyone as impudent as him.

“I think we both have very different definitions of fun,” you mumbled, slowly rising up from your position on the floor with the tray that contained most of the glass shards.

The CEO took another sip of his coffee while he leaned back in his seat, a smug look taking over his features.

“Hmm, I’m not too sure about that. You seem to be enjoying yourself just fine in my presence.”

“I hate to ruin your little delusion, but if this is your idea of fun, I really don’t want to be part of it,” you said, but immediately cringed at the feeling of your pants clinging uncomfortably to the skin of your legs.

You’d already used your last set of spare clothing the week before – when you spilled coffee over yourself – so you were stuck in these clothes for now. The prospect of having to endure another six to seven hours in your ruined attire didn’t seem too appealing, but you guessed you had survived worse things – like your boss humiliating you in front of customers.

Something in your expression caused the man to wipe the smug look off his face, his features softening slightly. It was almost as if he suddenly realized that he had put you in this predicament and was being an ass about it.

“Alright, how about this? I’m feeling at least a little bit generous today, so why don’t you let me pay for the dry cleaning? Maybe some new shoes too?” he suggested with a raise of his eyebrows.

You nearly wanted to scream at his absurd offer because had he really not learned his lesson? Why did the man think everything could be solved with money? It was as if that was his only way of fixing conflicts, which made you wonder if he was really that far removed from reality that he forgot about something as basic as normal human decency.

Just because you were working as a barista – a damn good one at that – didn’t mean that a little money would make you cave. Who did he think you were? Some charity that was in desperate need of his help? Yeah, no. You weren’t about to play his little game.

“There you go again with your damn money. I don’t need it, and I never will so stop offering it to me,” you snapped, narrowing your eyes at him to emphasize your point.

He sighed at your refusal and shrugged before drinking the last of his coffee. “Suit yourself. I was actually trying to be nice for once, you know?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his response. “Please. As if you know how to be nice.”

The man paused for a moment, his mouth opening and closing as if he was trying to come up with a solid reaction.

“I’m just going to ignore that little comment. Anyway, I have more important matters to take care of than to argue with someone who doesn’t even know me,” he finally stated with a shake of his head before putting his mask back in place and making a move to get up from his seat. “Good luck with that, yeah?” he taunted as he motioned to your ruined clothes and the mess on the floor.

It was only when the orange beanie had completely disappeared from your sight that you finally moved from your position. A soft but bitter chuckle escaped from your lips as you realized what had just transpired.

Who would have thought that you would be arguing with some big-shot CEO about a glass of orange juice in the middle of your workday? It was certainly not how you’d imagined your day to go, but here you were – stuck at work and reeking of orange juice while he could go about his day as if nothing had happened.

Just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, Sanghoon decided that he’d spent enough time in the back and appeared right at the same time you were throwing away the last bit of glass. At the sight of your ruined clothes, your co-worker couldn’t contain his laughter.

“What the hell happened t-to y-you?” he laughed, bending over to rest his hands on his knees for support.

You just rolled your eyes as you shoved past him, not even bothering to give him an explanation.

Having to deal with your incompetent co-worker making fun of you when you already felt like you were about to snap any minute was not something you were in the mood for. You just needed him to mind his business, do his fucking job and let you get through the day without any further incidents.

—

After that altercation, you had been less than thrilled to see Melon pan dude the following day. But surprisingly, he had kept his mouth shut when he came in for his morning coffee – thankfully to go this time.

You weren’t sure if it had anything to do with your boss being there or the fact that he just wanted to forget it ever happened. Either way, you were happy that it hadn’t come up again. However, that didn’t mean that you had forgiven him for it, especially when he was the reason your shoes were completely ruined, now permanently stained with the orange liquid. You’d tried everything to get it out of the material – from looking up stain removal tutorials to scrubbing for your life – but much to your disappointment, it had all been to no avail.

It was rare for you to splurge on yourself when you had so many bills to pay, so buying those shoes had been a nice little treat after a stressful week at work. That’s what made it all the more frustrating.

It was as if the universe was sending you yet another sign that you were definitely not the favorite... and apparently not allowed to have nice things.

Just like that time a few years ago when you’d gotten yourself a new laptop because your old one had officially died after eight whole years. Not even two days after you got it, you had already managed to break it by spilling water all over it. It had taken at least half of your paycheck to replace the damaged device.

Obviously, the shoes hadn’t been as expensive as the laptop, but the message was pretty clear: nice things never lasted when they were in your possession.

If you had to be honest, your ruined shoes weren’t the actual reason you were still so fired up about the whole incident. Not that you weren’t upset about your shoes – because you definitely were. You knew that spilling accidents were not uncommon in your line of work and that there would be a chance you’d get your shoes dirty. You just hadn’t expected it to happen the way it did, and to that extent, which brought you to the real issue at hand and also the source of your frustration: Melon pan dude and his ignorant attitude towards you.

How was it that a man could be so smart but so oblivious at the same time? At least, you assumed he had some brains because he did manage to become the head of an international empire that brought billions in revenue on a yearly basis. And as a result of that, you were fairly certain that he had dealt with his fair share of crises and stubborn businessmen.

So then how was he seemingly incapable of solving simple, mundane conflicts like a normal human being?

You had to admit that you were slightly biased and probably not the most cooperative person when it came to the CEO, but anyone with a set of brains could see that the fame had gotten to his head with the way he flaunted his wealth.

You had tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. You really had. It was just that with each visit that followed the orange juice incident and each provocation that left his mouth, you finally came to the conclusion that the two of you were just on completely different levels and would never be able to see eye to eye on anything except for coffee.

Coffee was probably the only thing you were ever going to agree on.

Speaking of coffee, there had been a few times when you thought of messing with his coffee just because you were that petty. But you’d never actually acted on those intrusive thoughts since Big Brother (aka the CCTV cameras) was still watching your every move. You might have been close to slipping up during a few moments of weakness, but you definitely hadn’t forgotten about that little thing.

On top of that, there was Sanghoon, who wouldn’t have hesitated to run to your superior if he were to somehow catch wind of you tampering with the CEO’s coffee order. Your boss took great pride in protecting the shop’s perfect image, which included keeping the “VIP customer,” at whatever cost.

It just wasn’t worth it when the cons severely outweighed the pros, so you simply stuck to being cordial, no matter how hard it was at times.

There was, however, one occasion that had made you seriously reconsider your opinion of the CEO. On the day of his ninth coffee run, he’d unexpectedly shown up during the morning rush and ended up stepping in between you and an agitated customer to save the day, as he liked to call it.

If anyone were to ask you, you’d probably say that it was more like him getting put in his place by an older woman, but of course, he was never going to admit that.

—

“Excuse me, young lady?”

“Yes, Mrs. Park?” you responded with a small, forced smile, already mentally preparing yourself for what was about to come.

She shook her head and pointed to her coffee before placing the cup back onto the counter, right where you’d put it just a minute ago.

“This is not the coffee I ordered.”

“It’s a decaf with three shots of espresso and a splash of cream, exactly how you like it, Ma’am,” you stated while simultaneously trying to finish the Iced Americano you were making.

“That is how I like it, yes,” she nodded, “but this is too bland. You didn’t put three shots of espresso in this coffee.”

“I’m absolutely sure there are three espresso shots in there, Mrs. Park,” you responded confidently before handing the finished Iced Americano to one of your other regulars and shooting him a friendly smile.

Despite you being in the middle of the morning rush and the shop being a little chaotic with orders piling up by the minute, you were very certain that you had prepared her order just right.

Sanghoon was tasked with taking the orders seeing as you were busy making them. Although you were aware that he had a tendency to mess up when it came to situations that required responsibility, with you double-checking everything, the probability of messing up a coffee order was close to zero.

Besides, Mrs. Park was a regular at the shop who came in about three times a week for her morning coffee – that coffee always being a decaf with three espresso shots and a splash of cream.

It wasn’t like you disliked her because there were those occasions when she was nice and struck up a little conversation with you. But the problem was that she liked to complain… a little bit too much. It was up to the point where she would prevent you from doing your job until she got exactly what she wanted.

Coffee too bland? Coffee too strong? Too much cream? Too little cream? Too cold? Too hot? You name it. She always managed to find something to complain about.

At this point, you were pretty used to her antics and knew how to handle the situation in such a way that got her out the door as fast as possible with minimal resistance. Hell, you were probably the only person that was willing to put up with her shenanigans.

Even your boss, the asshole who never seemed to back down from a fight, was no match for her. As far as you knew, she was the only customer that had ever stood up to him and told him that he was a “rude piece of work that needed to get his shit together” to his face. To say that he had been flabbergasted was an understatement.

You, on the other hand, had truly enjoyed the little confrontation – especially the look on your boss’ face as the older woman wiped the floor with him. She had told him everything you weren’t able to, so there was definitely a part of you, deep down, that appreciated her for standing her ground.

Regardless, that didn’t mean you were happy that she had chosen today to cause a scene. You just wanted to be done with the morning rush and take a well-deserved break.

Why did she always have to do this during the busiest time of the day?

“You’re lying. As you know, I’ve been here many times before, and my coffee has never tasted this bland,” she snapped back, not planning to let it go any time soon.

And yes, despite your boss getting his ass handed to him that one time, he still allowed her in the shop. After all, he was a sucker for money, and she was a paying customer, so forbidding her from coming to the shop was out of the question. He simply refused to engage with her whenever they happened to be there at the same time, which is how you ended up with the task of having to appease her several times a week.

It wasn’t like you already had a million other things to do.

“I can assure you that I made it just as I always do. But, if you’re not satisfied with your coffee, I could just add another espresso shot in there to make it stro-”

“No!” she cut you off with a sneer before crossing her arms over her chest. “I want a new coffee. A proper one this time, or I won’t hesitate to leave another bad review.”

Oh god. Your boss would have your head if yet another one of her rants made it onto Naver.

So, that is why you quickly dropped whatever you were holding and turned your body to give her your full attention.

“That won’t be necessary, Mrs. Park. Please. I’ll ma-”

The sound of a throat clearing stopped you mid-sentence, your eyes shifting to the source of the sound.

“If I may?” the man started, meeting your eyes for a brief second before he inserted himself between you and your regular.

Melon pan dude?

Due to the morning rush, you had been so focused on getting all the orders out that you hadn’t even realized that he had been in the shop all this time, waiting for his own coffee. But now that you had a chance to observe him, you wondered how you could have missed him in the first place.

Out of all the people that were currently in the shop, he was actually the one that stood out the most. The combination of his signature orange beanie and the soft brown coat you’d seen him wear before was a stark contrast from the other customers, of whom the majority was clad in attire consisting of various shades of black and gray.

Seeing as he already stood out enough as it was, you didn’t really understand why he felt the need to insert himself into a conversation that didn’t even concern him.

There was no way Mrs. Park would go down quietly.

On the contrary, the woman tended to make quite the spectacle whenever something was not to her liking. More often than not, it ended with all eyes on her and the person on the receiving end of her indignation – aka you. Not that she could care less, though. With the way she had handled your boss, you were fairly certain that she wasn’t afraid of anyone, which no doubt included rich CEOs with big egos.

So, whatever Melon pan dude had in mind, you had a feeling that it would result in a pointless screaming match with him getting a figurative ass-kicking.

For someone who wanted to stay under the radar, the man sure knew exactly what to do to put himself right in the spotlight. But then again, who were you to stop him from embarrassing himself? It wasn’t like you were the one responsible for any damage to his ego or his public image.

Besides, maybe it would actually teach him a lesson or two about involving himself in other people’s business. Because by the looks of it, he had not gotten that memo yet – said man was currently in the middle of staring down an already-agitated Mrs. Park.

“You know, I’ve been watching her prepare orders for a few minutes now, including yours. And I most definitely saw her add three espresso shots in your coffee,” he stated with crossed arms.

Although you weren’t able to see his entire face due to the mask covering most of it, his tone – one you were all too familiar with – told you that he was more than a little annoyed with the older woman.

“I know what I tasted. Don’t try to insert yourself in something that doesn’t concern you, young man,” Mrs. Park responded, seemingly unamused by the interruption.

This was followed by a breathy chuckle from the CEO before he spoke again. “Trust me. I’d prefer not to either, but you’re being a little more than unreasonable right now.”

“Ha! Unreasonable?” the woman snorted. “As a paying customer, I expect to get the coffee I ordered. But clearly, I did not get what I asked for.”

“Ever considered there might be something wrong with your taste buds?” the CEO panned with a raise of his eyebrows.

The disdain was apparent on the woman’s face as she uttered her next response.

“E-excuse me?!”

Oh no, he’d really done it now. He still didn’t know when to quit, did he?

“Need me to repeat that for you?” he challenged, his tone bordering on taunting.

“What I need is for you to move aside so I can resolve this matter!”

“Why don’t you just stop being a bother and let her do her job? If you haven’t noticed, you’re not the only one in here,” he pointed out, referring to the rest of the customers, all of whom seemed to be very invested in the dispute.

You couldn’t blame them. It wasn’t every morning they got to see some random dude go up against an older lady. And for what? A damn coffee order, that was.

The most shocking thing about all of this was probably the fact that he was actually trying to help you for once. You thought that he would have at least liked to see you suffer a little bit for all the times you had gotten on his nerves. It was… confusing and most unexpected.

Unfortunately, you didn’t have much to think it over due to the events that were about to unfold right in front of your eyes.

Within the next few seconds, Mrs. Park effortlessly pushed the much larger CEO aside as if he was nothing but a useless pawn standing in her way. That, of course, pulled a bunch of gasps and giggles from the bystanders, who were no doubt just as shocked as you.

You nearly would have laughed with them if it weren't for you realizing you were at work and needed to remain neutral, no matter how badly you might have wanted to express how you truly felt. But dang, that was definitely a sight you weren't going to forget.

The man in question was stunned, to say the least – understandably so, because who knew a small woman like Mrs. Park was hiding such strength? The CEO must have really struck a nerve to bring out that side of her.

To be fair, it shouldn't have surprised you it had even gotten to this point. The man had a gift for driving people up the wall – you knew that all too well after less than two weeks of knowing him. And with both him and Mrs. Park having strong personalities, the two were bound to clash one way or another.

If it was under a different circumstance, you would have loved to enjoy this display just a bit longer. But, if you actually wanted to get through your list of orders, you needed to find a way to put a stop to this. Besides, judging by the fire igniting in the CEO’s eyes, you feared that he was about to take it up a notch if you didn't immediately do something about it.

Before either Mrs. Park or Melon pan dude could get another word in, you quickly stretched out your arm in an attempt to stop the latter from saying or doing something he shouldn't.

“It's okay!” you intervened and gave the CEO a pointed look before directing your attention at the older woman. “No need to argue. I already redid your order, Ma'am,” you added while placing the new cup on the counter. “A decaf with three espresso shots and a little bit of cream.”

Mrs. Park smiled triumphantly at the sight of the steaming cup of coffee. “Thank you, dear,” she said as she reached out for it. This was followed by a nasty look being thrown in the CEO’s direction. “You see that, young man? That is how it's done.”

The CEO, who had already opened his mouth to retaliate, was quick to shut it at the sight of your excessive head shaking.

Your goal was to de-escalate the situation and get the older woman out of the shop as quickly as possible. His involvement would only slow down the process, so you hoped that he would get the hint and let you handle the rest from here.

The sound of another throat clearing pulled your attention right back to the woman who had been at the center of all this.

“Yes, Mrs. Park?”

“Aren’t you missing a little something, dear?”

A small frown made its way onto your face as you racked your brain for anything you could have possibly missed.

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to, Ma’am?” you responded, seemingly confused but also trying your best not to cry out in frustration.

She had already put Melon pan dude in his place and gotten her new coffee, so what else did she want?

“Well,” she huffed before pointing to the glass display, “the least you could do is give me one of those cookies on the house after everything I just went through.”

Ah. So that’s what the whole thing was about. A free cookie… you should have known. It wasn’t the first time she had tried to get something for free, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last time.

“You can’t be for real, right?” The CEO butted in before you’d even had a chance to respond. “You got what you wanted, and now you still want more?”

You mentally cursed at the man for opening his big fat mouth again. So much for letting you handle the situation.

“Just who do you think you are to speak to me like that?” the woman questioned, no doubt wondering who would have the audacity to argue with her the way he did.

“I think you’d be surprised to find out.”

“It’s fine! Please. It’s not a big deal,” you quickly interrupted upon hearing the CEO’s last words.

You doubted he actually wanted to reveal his identity and risk becoming front-page news. That wouldn’t do him nor you any good. The last thing you wanted was a bunch of reporters swarming the shop to grill you and anyone else they could find for the ‘juicy’ details.

“I got you a cookie on the house,” you announced, holding out the paper bag for her to take.

“Wonderful! I knew I could count on you,” she nodded and eagerly reached for the bag. “At least someone here knows how to treat people,” she grumbled, throwing the CEO a final look before taking her leave.

As soon as the door had closed behind Mrs. Park, a collective sigh sounded through the shop, which was immediately followed by the sound of continuous chatter.

It was kind of funny though, how everyone had been so invested just a few seconds ago but went right back to their conversations and phones as if nothing had happened. The CEO, however, was awfully quiet and seemingly deep in thought.

“You good?” you asked, feeling genuinely concerned when he hadn’t moved for a good minute.

You honestly didn’t know why you felt sorry for the guy, but something about today’s events had stirred something in you – something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

Your question seemed to shake him right out of his bubble, his eyes snapping up to meet yours.

“Me? I’m fine,” he nodded and took a few steps towards the counter. “Is she always like this though?” he questioned, obviously referring to Mrs. Park.

You pursed your lips as you measured the amount of milk you’d need for the next order on your list – his to be exact. “Probably like ninety-nine percent of the time?”

The man scoffed in response, placing his hands on the smooth countertop. “And you just give into her like that? You know she was just looking for attention and a free cookie, right?”

“I know, but what can I do?” you sighed, shooting him a brief glance. “She’s a regular and my boss cannot stand the bad reviews, so it’s best to just give her what she wants from time to time.”

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. “I thought you were bad, but she was something else.”

“Pfff, whatever, Mr. CEO. You’re worse than me and Mrs. Park combined,” you retorted with a roll of your eyes.

“Yah! At least I had the guts to put her in her place,” he defended, his eyes widening at your words.

“What place? I think you’re the one who got owned by her though,” you giggled as you grabbed your now-finished milk foam. “Didn’t you see the way she just pushed you aside like you were nothing? Bet you’re not used to that, huh?”

“That’s only because I let her. I was just- I mean… I-I can’t be fighting an old lady,” the man stuttered, his defense crumbling right there.

Oh, he was such a freaking liar.

You couldn’t help but grin as you skillfully poured the steamed milk into the paper cup, shaping it into a pretty flower. “Sure, that must have been the reason.”

“The least you could do is thank me,” the CEO grumbled.

Even though you weren’t able to see his whole face, you were pretty certain that he was pouting underneath his black mask.

“Now where’s the fun in that?” you chuckled, enjoying the effect your words had on him. Unfortunately, that moment could only last for so long seeing as you had other customers to serve. “Here. Your coffee’s ready.”

“Thanks. I have to run now, though. I’ll see you around, yeah?” You nodded, a small smile on your lips as you watched him grab his cup.

“Hey,” you called just as he was about to take his leave. The man raised his eyebrows questioningly, patiently waiting for whatever you were about to tell him. “Thanks… for trying to help me out.”

His face immediately softened at your expression of gratitude. “No problem,” he nodded, which was followed by a quick but unexpected wink in your direction before he also exited the shop.

Maybe he wasn’t as bad as you thought.

—

After that debacle, you actually thought the two of you had made some real progress. Okay, it wasn’t like you were all buddy-buddy with another, but your opinion of the man had definitely taken a turn for the better.

For one, him coming to the shop hadn’t been bothering you as much anymore. You weren’t sure what had come over him, but he kept the teasing and taunting to a minimum during his next few visits.

Though his behavior had taken you by surprise, you were certainly not going to complain about it. Instead of the usual back and forth – that was, him trying to get a reaction out of you and you doing your best to ignore him – you found yourself having small conversations with the man that didn’t make you want to strangle him by the end of it.

Perhaps he had finally realized that being a dick wasn’t going to get him anywhere, especially if you were going to see each other on a nearly daily basis for his coffee runs. Or maybe he had decided that the risk of potentially damaging his public image wasn’t worth it after all, which, honestly, sounded a little more plausible to you.

Despite you having no desire to make him look bad whatsoever, you technically did have the means to do so. And if people loved anything, it was celebrity gossip. Hell, big celebrities had gotten canceled over the smallest and most ridiculous things, so who was to say that the same thing couldn’t happen to SEVENTEEN World’s managing CEO?

Of course, you wouldn’t ever think to take it that far. You weren’t exactly the man’s number-one fan, but you’d never want to wish something like that on someone. Besides, if his recent change in attitude was anything to go by, you were fairly certain that he and his reputation would be just fine.

Whatever it was, you had started to take somewhat of a liking towards the new and improved Melon pan dude.

Looking back on it now, you just wanted to laugh at yourself for being so naïve.

That friendly façade, that peaceful bubble in which you had momentarily forgotten what an ignorant asshole the CEO could be, had only lasted for a total of two days.

Yes. Two freaking days was all it had taken for him to throw it all right back in your face. Were you disappointed? A little. Surprised? Not in the slightest – it had all seemed too good to be true anyway. The average person doesn’t change overnight, and the CEO was apparently no exception to that either.

Once an entitled prick, always an entitled prick, isn’t that how the saying goes?

—

Today was not a good day for Seungcheol… and the day hadn’t even started yet.

The first thing he’d woken up to this morning was his private investigator informing him that the bracelet – the one he’d seen at Wonwoo’s place a little over a week ago – belonged to no one other than his dear sister.

When he’d initially spotted the bracelet, he’d hoped that it wasn’t true. But when his PI told him the bad news, Seungcheol had felt his heart break just a little bit. There was no way the PI could have been wrong about it – the CEO had made sure to hire only the best of the best. And the best he was, that much he’d proven already with the various documents and pictures he’d collected to confirm the CEO’s suspicions about the pair.

He just didn’t want to believe that his best friend and his sister would go as far as to lie about something so important. Seungcheol had trusted them with everything, and to think that they’d betrayed his trust affected him more than he would have liked.

Before starting this little investigation, Seungcheol had obviously weighed out the pros and cons that came with digging into the personal lives of the people he loved. Of course, somewhere deep down, he knew that it was totally immoral and reckless, and he was aware that it would inevitably open Pandora’s box. But the thought of being in the unknown, the thought of not knowing whether he was being lied to or not, had affected him to the point where he had started to neglect some of his duties as managing CEO.

That’s why he’d decided that he had to know the truth, regardless of the consequences – morals be damned.

But the truth hurt.

Seungcheol was not used to feeling like this, much less capable of dealing with it. Being the CEO he was, he’d dealt with more stressful and bad situations than he could count. But this? This was different. Nothing could have prepared him for this shitstorm. If it would have been any other work situation, he would have had no issue facing the problem head-on.

With this being a personal matter, however, Seungcheol couldn’t exactly approach this as he would a work-related issue. He felt like he had to gather a little more evidence at least, and come up with a concrete plan before he showed his cards. Because even though everything in his body told him to confront the pair, he had to keep it together for now.

The last thing he wanted to do was to jeopardize the future of SEVENTEEN World.

Naturally, with the CEO having to keep such a big secret to himself, the stress of it all was slowly starting to take its toll on his emotions.

Under normal circumstances, he would have gone to either Jeonghan or Mingyu for help. As the group ‘therapists’, the fashion CEO and the chef were no strangers to their friends coming to them for advice or, in some cases, to blow off steam. Both men were great listeners and just had this aura about them that made others naturally want to confide in them. In Seungcheol’s case, Jeonghan was his go-to person whenever he needed a listening ear, more so than Mingyu. Surely, that didn’t mean that Seungcheol valued his advice any less.

On the contrary, the chef had been there for him more times than he could count, in particular during the hard times he’d had to endure in the beginning stages of their business journey. He’d never explicitly told Mingyu this, but Seungcheol was pretty sure that he would have given up a long time ago if it hadn’t been for Mingyu’s unwavering trust and the many encouraging words he’d bestowed.

It was safe to say that Seungcheol had a special type of appreciation for the chef.

The reason Seungcheol tended to seek out Jeonghan, and not Mingyu, in times of distress was pretty straightforward: the two of them go way back. And because of that long-standing friendship, the fashion CEO probably knew Seungcheol better than anyone else.

It was a pain in the ass sometimes – because Jeonghan was certainly not afraid to give his unfiltered opinions – but the managing CEO also knew that his friend only wanted the best for him. Well… it usually took Seungcheol a while to see that, but that was beside the point.

With the CEO being in this predicament, however, neither Jeonghan nor Mingyu seemed like a great option.

Mingyu was obviously out of the question – seeing as he was Wonwoo’s closest friend, Seungcheol was quite positive that the other CEO was already in on the whole thing.

Though Jeonghan was no doubt just as much in the dark as Seungcheol had been, the thought of having to tell his oldest friend about the betrayal already made him want to cringe. Jeonghan would probably tell him to stop being such a grump and get over it, which was definitely not what Seungcheol needed to hear right now. He was fucking pissed and in no state to accept any form of criticism from anyone, especially from his best friend.

That’s why he was currently on his way to Oh My! Coffee for his daily fix of caffeine. Despite feeling stressed and extremely agitated, the CEO knew that a good cup of coffee would at least provide him with enough of a boost to get through the majority of the day.

He had a lot of shit that needed to get done, and if he didn’t find something to take his mind off the matter at hand, soon everyone would know something was wrong. And with everyone, he was mainly referring to Haewon.

Having been Seungcheol’s personal secretary for many years, she had spent enough time with the CEO to know when something was really bothering him.

Though their relationship was primarily professional, his secretary probably knew a lot more about his personal life than she should have. The CEO wasn’t stupid, though. He knew that it was inevitable with the busy life he led.

Just about everything in his daily schedule – even the majority of his weekends – was arranged through her, so he was rather impressed with himself that he’d even managed to keep the whole PI thing a secret for so long.

It really was surprising because Seungcheol swore she had some sort of sixth sense with the way she was always able to figure out exactly what was on his mind – it was freaky but quite convenient whenever he had a hard time verbalizing his concerns.

Still, the CEO didn’t think it was a good idea to involve his secretary in any of this. He knew that Haewon wasn’t the type to tell on him, which was one of the reasons she was still with him to this day, but he already expected her to pull a full-on Jeonghan on him if she were to find out about what he had been concocting behind her back.

Simply put, keeping it on the down low was probably in everyone’s best interest.

What Seungcheol hadn’t anticipated, however, was for his day to get even worse after just having confirmed his usual order at his new favorite coffee place.

“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid your card got declined,” you spoke quietly, almost as if you were trying to soften the blow of the unexpected words that had just left your mouth.

Seungcheol shook his head in utter disbelief. He didn’t think he’d ever hear those words, certainly not in a context where they’d be directed at him.

“Decl- What? Try again,” he urged with a hint of a frown on his face.

“I’ve already tried it twice. Do you have another card I could try?” you responded with a shrug before handing him back his black credit card.

“For fuck’s sake,” Seungcheol grumbled as he hastily opened his wallet again to put his declined card back in place. He then grabbed onto his second black card and handed it over without a word, watching intently as you swiped it.

“I’m afraid this one is not working either,” you stated after a few seconds of silence, followed by you holding out yet another declined card.

Seungcheol almost wanted to scoff at the absurdity of the situation. How was it that neither of the two cards was working when he clearly had more than sufficient funds in his account? This had to be a fucking joke. There was just no other logical explanation for it.

“Then there’s something wrong with your system. My cards can’t be the issue,” Seungcheol shook his head, impatiently tapping his fingers against the countertop as he felt the frustration slowly start to spread through his entire body.

Just why did the universe have to mess with him today of all days?

“I can assure you our system works just fine,” you huffed, your clenched jaw making it quite obvious that you were trying to hold back whatever was really going through your mind.

“Well, obviously it can’t be me. I didn’t just go broke overnight,” he chuckled bitterly. “Reset the thing, try again. I don’t care whatever you do. Just make it work,” he added as he motioned to the register.

“I don’t know what else to tell you. Your cards. are. not. working.” you emphasized with a pointed look, seemingly done with the CEO’s refusal to believe that the problem was with his cards and not the shop’s system.

Seungcheol let out a frustrated sigh at your words, trying his very best not to snap back at you like he normally would have. He just wanted his damn coffee and get on with his day. And getting into an argument with you was not on his to-do list for today. So, choosing the high road, he reluctantly pulled a five thousand won banknote from his wallet.

“Just forget it. I got cash,” he muttered, nearly slamming the thing down onto the counter.

You didn’t say a word as you reached for the money. Neither did you say anything when you handed him back his 300 won worth of change.

It annoyed Seungcheol that you’d chosen to give him the silent treatment, but it wasn’t like it was anything new though.

Before the whole ‘cookie’ incident – which is the name he’d assigned to the encounter he’d had with the older woman – you’d tended to ignore his teasing remarks on a daily basis. Though it was a little frustrating for Seungcheol to not have you acknowledge him when he was speaking to you – if he had to guess, it probably had to do with your boss giving you nothing but grief for absolutely no reason – he hadn’t actually minded it much.

The truth was, as the days progressed, he’d unknowingly started to look forward to his coffee runs. And no, it wasn’t only because of the good coffee. The CEO couldn’t really explain it, nor did he want to admit it, but his interactions with you made him feel things he hadn’t felt in years.

Perhaps it was because you were so different from everyone else in his life. Come to think of it, aside from his friends, you were probably the only person he’d met who didn’t treat him with the utmost respect.

If he’d learned anything about you in the short time he’d known you, it was that you didn’t seem to give a shit about his CEO status.

Unlike your slimy-ass boss, who made it his mission to suck up to Seungcheol whenever he got the chance, you treated him like any other customer despite knowing his true identity. It was like he could be a completely different person with you, and it was sort of… exhilarating?

Then the cookie incident happened. The CEO had been so close to revealing his true identity when the older woman just wouldn’t stop taking advantage of the situation. And because he had been so agitated at that point, he had totally forgotten about the audience that had been able to follow the entire thing.

God knows what would have happened if he had revealed himself in front of that crowd. Seungcheol already imagined the headlines he’d be seeing the following day: ‘SEVENTEEN World’s Managing Director Choi Seungcheol Argues with Older Woman in Coffee Bar.’ While the other CEOs would have had a field day with that, he was pretty sure his PR team would have had his head for that.

So, whether it had been intentional or not, your interruption had been a very welcome one.

After that day, though, things started to look a little better for the two of you – mainly because the CEO had decided to take a different approach to your interactions. Again, he would never openly admit it, but despite the hostility between the two of you, you intrigued him, whether he liked it or not.

So, naturally, with Seungcheol being the nosy person he was, he’d made it his goal to find out more about you. But to be able to do that, he figured that he wasn’t going to get anywhere by constantly getting on your nerves. Hence, he’d toned down his teasing and provocative remarks in an attempt to show you a different side of him.

Up until today, it had been going quite well, much to his surprise. You hadn’t gotten past the usual small talk, but your daily encounters had definitely taken a turn for the better – who would have thought?

However, with how today had been going so far, the CEO had a feeling that even the smallest thing was enough to set him off and potentially ruin whatever you were working towards.

Oh, if only he’d known how right he was.

“Ah, shit,” you hissed out of nowhere, followed by a loud clanging sound that echoed through the small shop.

The CEO, who had been in the middle of writing a message to Haewon about his money situation, nearly jumped out of his skin at the unexpected noise. He was already on edge as a result of the bad news he’d received this morning. Add to that the fact that he almost hadn’t been able to pay for a simple coffee, and then now this near heart attack.

Seungcheol felt like he was about to reach his fucking breaking point.

“Can’t you fucking watch it?” he snapped, his focus shifting from his phone to you to find out what had caused the commotion.

The CEO realized that his response might have been a little over the top, but he hadn’t been able to control his mouth in the heat of the moment.

Your eyes were wide with shock as you seemed to process what you’d just heard.

“Pardon me?” you finally croaked while clutching onto your left hand.

“The noise,” Seungcheol grumbled. “Some people are trying to work here.”

You exhaled loudly and almost aggressively turned on the faucet before thrusting your hand underneath the water stream.

“Well, I’m sorry for spilling scorching hot milk over my hand,” you retorted, your facial expression slightly souring as soon as the water made contact with your hand.

“Not my fault you’re clumsy.”

“Listen here, you f-” You stopped yourself mid-sentence, your lips sealing shut as you ripped your eyes away from the CEO.

“Yeah? Go right ahead. What were you about to call me, hmm?” he mused, somewhat satisfied that he’d nearly caught you slipping.

“Nothing,” you spoke through gritted teeth, making it pretty clear that you weren’t planning on finishing your previous sentence. Not that Seungcheol would have expected any less.

He just hummed, leaning himself against the counter with his arms crossed.

“Well, if you’re not going to tell me, you might as well get on with my coffee though. I got other places I need to be,” he said when he noticed that you still hadn’t moved from your spot in front of the sink.

Although you chose not to respond to the CEO’s words, Seungcheol knew damn well that he’d successfully managed to piss you off once again. Your jaw was tense as you not so quietly turned off the faucet and started drying your hands, and he guessed you were desperately trying to hold in whatever you wanted to say by taking a couple of deep breaths.

He knew that he was being unnecessarily hostile today. Instead of keeping his emotions under control like he should have, he’d taken them out on you – not exactly his proudest moment. But then again, it wasn’t like this was the first outburst you’d witnessed from him.

Seungcheol knew that you were able to stand your ground whenever needed, so he wasn’t all that concerned about how his words might have come across. Besides, if he was being honest, he really couldn’t find it in himself to care. His day had already been ruined, and with everything piling up, he just didn’t have it in him to pretend like everything was fine and dandy.

He just wanted his coffee and get out of there so that he could come up with a plan to fix the mess he’d gotten himself involved in.

Fortunately, you seemed just as motivated to finish his coffee and get him out of the shop, practically pushing the cup into his hand by the time it was done while shooting daggers his way.

Yeah, he could definitely kiss that progress goodbye.

—

Later that night, Seungcheol was once again on his way to JamJam, hoping to grab a melon pan before spending the rest of the night with Kkuma. After all the shit that had gone down today, it was fair to say that the cute little dog was probably the only living being the CEO could tolerate at the moment – mainly because he didn’t have to hide anything from her.

The same thing couldn’t be said about his secretary, though.

Haewon, being the great secretary she was, had luckily managed to solve the CEO’s card issues with only a single call to the bank. Apparently, the fraud department of his bank had blocked his cards due to ‘suspicious activity’ on his account.

This so-called ‘suspicious activity’ had consisted of a series of larger cash withdrawals that had seemed too divergent from his usual withdrawal pattern, all of which had been sufficient cause for concern. What they didn’t know was that it had, in fact, been Seungcheol himself who had taken out the money… to pay the PI he’d hired to look into Wonwoo and his sister.

When Haewon had first brought the news to him, he’d wanted to curse himself for letting his nosy secretary handle this matter. The man had been so focused on trying to hide it from her that he’d forgotten about how the people from the bank might respond. He’d basically been forced to lie about the nature of the withdrawals.

The bank might have believed his bullshit excuse, but the CEO had a feeling that Haewon did not believe a single thing that had come out of his mouth. Thankfully, she hadn’t pressed him for more information, but he knew he had to be even more careful from now on.

As Seungcheol entered his favorite bakery, he greeted Mr. Hashimoto with a small nod and quickly made his way toward the back of the shop, his eyes already set on one particular breadbasket. He reached it within a few seconds, only to be disappointed when he noticed it was completely empty.

“Well, well, well. Look who it is.”

“Fucking hell. Not now,” he whispered to himself before reluctantly turning around.

There you were, a smug look on your face as you dangled a melon pan – the last one – in front of the CEO’s nose. “Let me guess. You’re looking for this?”

Seungcheol rolled his eyes at your obvious taunting. “No shit. How did you know?”

You shrugged. “Just an educated guess. It’s too bad, though, because this seems to be the last one,” you smirked as you dropped the snack into your shopping basket. “Maybe try to be a little faster next time.”

“Whatever,” he mumbled, slightly distracted by the sight of your other hand wrapped up in bandages.

Now that Seungcheol had gotten his emotions somewhat under control, he did feel a little bad about the way he’d behaved towards you this morning.

You’d gotten yourself hurt, and instead of asking if you were okay like any decent human being would have, he’d reacted like a total prick. Of course, Seungcheol knew that the right thing to do in this case was to set his pride aside and apologize, but with the way you were trying to get under his skin right now, he felt the chances of that happening were slim to none.

You awkwardly cleared your throat as you hid your hand inside your sleeve, the action bringing Seungcheol back to the matter at hand… the last melon pan, which you’d managed to snatch yet again.

“J-Just see this as payback for today,” you sputtered before quickly regaining your confidence again. “Maybe if you’d been a little nicer this morning, this melon pan could have been yours. But since you decided to be a dick for whatever reason, I hope you have a nice night crying about not getting a melon pan,” you stated, that smug look making its appearance again.

“You really think I’d cry about something like that?”

“Oh, I know you will. Just like I knew that friendly act of yours was too good to be true. You’re nothing but an entitled asshole who doesn’t know how to treat people with respect,” you spat, speaking your mind now that you didn’t have to worry about your boss.

“You don’t know shit about me,” Seungcheol sneered, not liking the assumptions that were coming from your mouth.

“You’re right. I don’t. And I’m not interested either, so cut the fucking crap and don’t try to insert yourself into my business.”

“Trust me, the feeling is mutual.”

“Good.”

After a rather uncomfortable silence, you averted your eyes and adjusted the shopping basket you were carrying.

“Well, goodnight,” you mumbled before swiftly walking away, leaving behind an agitated and melon pan-less CEO.

—

Little did you know that your next encounter with the CEO would end in complete disaster.

It started out just like any other day, with you getting the coffee shop ready for opening and your boss breathing down your neck as soon as he’d stepped foot inside the shop. And not surprisingly, your lousy co-worker was nowhere to be found when your boss informed you that there’d be a shit ton of work for you to do.

Sanghoon showed up an hour past his official start time, and your superior didn’t seem to care at all, practically welcoming him with open arms and telling him to take it easy today. It took everything in you to bite your tongue when you heard those words coming from your boss. Because how was it that you were working your ass off and trying to keep the shop running while he got to take it fucking easy?

When was this lazy ass piece of shit finally going to get the karma he so much deserved?

It was a little past opening time – with you in the middle of refilling the syrups – when the door to the shop opened. Initially, you thought it was one of your regulars since a couple of them preferred to show up ahead of the morning rush, but when you got up from your crouched position to greet said person, you were met with a woman you’d never seen at the shop before.

“Hi! Can I help you?” you asked, a small smile on your face as you got ready to type in her order.

“Yeah, uhm, I hope so. I’m actually looking for my brother, Sanghoon?”

“Y-Your brother?” you stuttered, eyes widening at the new revelation.

In all your time working together with the slacker, he'd not once shared anything about his personal life. It wasn't like you'd asked him about it either because you weren't the slightest bit interested in anything involving him, but meeting someone related to him certainly piqued your curiosity.

“Yeah,” the woman muttered, a grimace taking over her face. “Is he here?”

“He’s in the back. I could call him for you?” you suggested.

The woman nodded. “That would be great, thanks.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back,” you announced before heading to the back to search for the man in question.

It didn't take you long to find him. He was sitting in his usual spot, headphones covering his ears and full focus on his phone.

“Hey. Your sister’s here. She wants to speak to you." No response. Annoyed at his lack of situational awareness, you snapped your fingers in his line of sight.

“What do you want?” he groaned as he reluctantly took his headphones off.

You crossed your arms. “It's not me who wants anything. Your sister is out front.”

“My sister? What the-” he grumbled before scrambling out of his seat, not even bothering to take his phone with him.

Now, if you knew anything about Sanghoon, it was that he was one with his phone. You'd literally never seen him go anywhere without it, so for him to leave the device behind without a care in the world meant that whatever his sister wanted from him had to be serious.

Thankfully your boss had stepped out for a bit because there was no way you were missing out on this.

You didn't know what you expected to walk in on when you returned to the front of the shop, but you certainly hadn't been prepared for what came out of the woman's mouth.

“Just tell me what you did with the emergency fund money!”

“I don’t know what you want me to tell you. What the hell are you talking about?”

The woman scoffed in disbelief at her brother’s response. “Oh, you know exactly what I’m talking about. I worked my ass off for that money. It was supposed to be for emergencies only, not for you to gamble away whenever you feel like it.”

Oh shit. Did he have a gambling problem?

“Why do you immediately assume I took it? It could have been mom or dad,” Sanghoon argued back.

“Because I know you took it, so don’t lie to me. Everyone knows you have a problem with money, but I’m the only one calling you out on it.”

“You really wanna go there right now?”

“Yes, I do! Because all you do is fuck around and for some absurd reason, everyone worships the ground you walk on. But I’m not falling for that shit. The fact that you still have this job is mind-boggling to me,” the woman chuckled bitterly.

Damn. You didn’t know your co-worker’s sister at all, but you liked her already – anyone who had the balls to call Sanghoon out on his shit was a hero in your eyes.

“Yah! Would you stop embarrassing me at work?”

“Return the money and I just might,” his sister retorted with a smirk.

“I already told you that I didn’t take that damn money, so go find someone else to bother. I’m done here,” Sanghoon sneered before nearly stomping his way towards the back. “Oh,” he started as he stopped in his tracks to face his sister again. “don’t come to my work to accuse me of shit you know nothing about.” After that, he quickly disappeared without another word.

“Asshole,” the woman huffed with a shake of her head.

You took that as your cue to add a little comment of your own. “I’m glad to know someone in the family got blessed with brains,” you grinned.

She couldn’t help but giggle in response. “I know right? Is he giving you a hard time too?”

“Oh, you have no idea. It’s like I’m running this thing by myself most of the time,” you sighed while making your way back to the register.

“I’m so sorry about that,” the woman shook her head. “He’s always been like this and I’m afraid he’s beyond saving at this point.”

You let out a snort at that. “I figured as much. Luckily, I kind of learned to deal with it along the way.”

“I admire you for that,” she laughed.

“Thanks. I try,” you chuckled. “Can I get you anything though? A coffee? Juice? It’s my treat.”

She was quick to shake her head at your offer. “Oh no, you really don’t have to.”

“Please. I insist. The way you handled your brother just now was awesome. I’m so used to seeing everybody praise him for the work Ido, that I never got the chance to see someone put him in his place. So, tell me. What do you want?”

“Well, in that case, I’d like an iced latte,” she smiled.

“I’m on it!”

After that interesting start to your workday, you went right back to your chores while occasionally helping some customers. Your boss returned not long after Sanghoon’s sister left the shop, not missing a single opportunity to order you around as you made your way through your to-do list.

Then finally came the moment you’d been dreading since yesterday – Melon pan dude’s morning coffee run.

As he entered the shop, you noticed he was once again wearing his signature orange beanie, paired with a black mask and the brown coat you’d seen him wear before.

All hopes of the two of you reconciling and picking up where you left off had been crushed as a result of yesterday’s events, so to say you were happy to see him was an understatement. But just because you disliked the man and wanted nothing more than to stay as far away from him as possible, didn’t mean that you couldn’t be cordial and professional during work hours. After all, he was still a customer and your boss was watching, so really all you could do was try to prepare his coffee as quickly as possible and refrain from any unnecessary communication.

So, that’s exactly what you did.

“The usual?” you asked before he’d even reached the counter.

“Uh, yeah,” he nodded while reaching for his wallet.

“Coming right up,” you said after you’d finalized his card payment.

“Mr. Choi!” your boss’ voice sounded as he returned from the back, Sanghoon following closely behind. “Glad to see you back again. How’s the business going?”

“It’s fine,” the CEO responded with a hint of annoyance.

“You’re too modest! I heard you secured another great deal this week. You’re truly an inspiration for many, including myself,” your superior gushed.

It was pathetic really, how he tried to get into the CEO’s good graces when it was so obvious that he wanted nothing to do with him. Either your boss just didn’t care or he seriously lacked the ability to pick up on social cues.

You simply chose to block out their voices after that, putting your full attention on the coffee you were making because you did not want to hear your boss kissing the man’s ass so early in the morning.

It was only after you’d completed the order that you finally snapped out of your concentration bubble. Your boss seemed to have given up and was now talking to Sanghoon about lord knows what, while Melon pan dude was buried in his phone, probably doing something work-related.

After lightly clearing your throat, you placed the cup on the counter. “Your order is ready.”

The CEO’s head snapped up at your words, his phone momentarily forgotten as he walked up to grab his coffee.

“Thanks,” he muttered as he reached for a cup sleeve and a lid.

You nodded before turning away from him to resume with the dishes, not wanting to wait for him to exit the shop. Apparently, that was a big mistake.

“Y/N!” your boss suddenly hissed, startling you with the intensity of his tone. “What happened to wishing our customers a nice day?”

“I’m sorry, Sir. I didn’t realize.” Okay, that might have been a lie, but he didn’t need to know that. You just hadn’t felt the need to say anything else to the CEO at that moment.

“This is exactly why I can’t trust you to do anything right. Tell me why I never have to tell Sanghoon how to behave towards customers?” Your jaw clenched at the mention of that useless potato, but you kept your mouth shut, not wanting to risk angering him even further. “I’ve said this again and again, but you should take some notes from him. Because unlike you, he’s been doing a wonderful job.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” The unexpected interruption caused both you and your boss to turn your heads toward the source of the voice.

It was Melon pan dude, who apparently, had not yet left the shop after grabbing his coffee. Instead, he was right at the counter, a death glare directed at the older man standing beside you, which you knew couldn’t mean anything good.

You’d seen how things had ended with Mrs. Park and you did not want a repetition of that, especially not when your boss was one of the main characters.

Speaking of whom, said man was quick to change his attitude, his tone switching from harsh to soft in only a matter of seconds as he addressed the CEO.

“S-Sir?”

The businessman rolled his eyes at that before speaking up. “The way you’re reprimanding her and telling her to be more like that lazy shit when I literally haven’t seen him do a single useful thing around here.”

“I-I can assure you that Sanghoon is a very capable barista,” your boss stuttered, thoroughly surprised by the CEO’s blunt criticism.

The other man chuckled in response. Hell, you had the urge to do the same at the sound of that ridiculous statement, but you didn’t want to add any more fuel to the fire.

“I think that might be the biggest joke I’ve heard this year. You do realize that this shop wouldn’t be running without her, right?” He pointed in your direction, letting his eyes rest on yours for a moment before shifting back to their original target. “I’ve unfortunately had to try his coffee once, and it was guaranteed the worst coffee I’ve ever tasted.”

“The worst coffee? Sanghoon? No, that can’t be,” your boss shook his head in disbelief. “Y/N must have made a mistake with your coffee.”

This fucking asshole.

“Are you really that much of a misogynist that you can’t admit your guy can’t make coffee to save his life?”

“Of course n-not! I just refuse to believe he would serve anything that awful in my shop.”

Oh, if only he knew how many coffee orders you’d had to salvage as a result of your co-worker’s non-existing barista skills.

“Well, I’ll be happy to burst that delusional bubble you reside in. Letting that guy,” he pointed to Sanghoon, who looked like he couldn’t give two shits about anything being said about him, “prepare coffee should be considered a crime.” Then, the businessman leaned forward as he moved his finger in your boss’ direction. “And so should mistreating your hardworking employees.”

“Mr. Choi! Where is all of this coming from?”

You nearly rolled your eyes at the act he was putting up in front of the CEO, who could clearly see past his bullshit.

“You know, I was going to leave it at the bad review I left a few days ago, just because I didn’t want to cause a scene. But the fact that you think I haven’t noticed your disgusting behavior is beyond me,” the other man scoffed.

“Bad review? That was y-you?” Your boss was at a loss for words at that unexpected confession. You just stood there in shock as you listened to the whole thing go down.

The shop hadn’t gotten any bad reviews in a few months, so you remembered that review all too well – your boss had made sure of that. Seeing as he was obsessed with maintaining the shop’s ‘perfect’ image on Naver, he’d made it a habit to check the reviews every single chance he got. So, when he’d seen that first thing in the morning, he completely flipped out.

No surprise, he’d taken his frustrations out on you, lecturing you about customer service and making coffee as if you hadn’t been doing it for years already. Funnily enough, it wasn’t even you that the reviewer had criticized, which made the outburst he’d directed at you that much more absurd.

Despite the shit your boss had given you for it, you’d silently enjoyed the jabs the reviewer had taken at the two men because someone had actually voiced the things you couldn’t say.

But now that you knew Melon pan dude had been behind the review, you just wished he’d kept the entire thing to himself.

It was one thing for your boss to discover one of his customers had insulted him, but for him to find out it had been the CEO he so admired was guaranteed to backfire on you. And now, with the CEO pretty much standing up for you, you could only assume that today was going to be rough. So much for telling the guy to stay out of your business.

“Yes, I wrote it,” the CEO smirked before quickly turning serious again. “And mark my words. If I see you mistreat your employee again, I won’t hesitate to use my real name next time. Now that would be bad for business.”

“Mr. Choi. You have it totally wrong,” your boss tried to defend himself, but it was pretty clear that any attempt was futile at this point. He’d royally screwed things up with his favorite VIP customer.

“Save it,” the CEO shook his head. “Fix that attitude first,” he frowned before swiftly turning around and leaving the shop without another word.

“What the hell did you do?” the man sneered as soon as the door had closed, leaving you to deal with the mess.

“I’m not quite sure what you mean, Sir,” you said, feeling genuinely confused.

Your boss scowled, turning his full body to face you this time. “Cut the shit, Y/N. What did you have to do to get him to say all that?”

What the hell was he on about?

“Sir, I don’t know what you want me to say. I didn’t do anything,” you emphasized, already preparing yourself for this conversation to go completely left.

“Bullshit. I’ve seen the way you interact with him. Even Sanghoon told me he’s noticed something going on between you two. So, tell me. What is it? Are you sleeping with him. Is that it?”

Your breathing hitched for a second, your mind processing the words that had just left your boss’ mouth. You? Sleeping with Mr. Rich and Famous? No. This was so not happening right now.

This was exactly the reason why you didn’t need Melon pan dude to fight your battles because look at where it got you.

“No, you’re wrong,” you shook your head, your voice quivering as you felt yourself start to shake from the adrenaline rushing through your body.

To know your good-for-nothing co-worker and your boss had been talking about you and the CEO was already a no-go in your eyes. But the fact your own boss would suggest such an awful thing made you feel more than a little disgusted.

The man was obviously in the wrong – there was no doubt about that – but you also needed to set some serious boundaries with the guy that had gotten you in this predicament in the first place. If he’d just let you do your work and kept his mouth shut, none of this would have happened.

“What do you think you’re doing?” your boss snapped when he noticed you start to loosen your apron.

“I need a break,” you grumbled, already having made up your mind about your next move. If you were quick, you might still be able to catch the dude before he took off.

“Like hell you are. You’re going back to work.”

“I need a break, Sir.”

“Take a break and do what? To see that little boyfriend of yours? Yeah, I don’t think so,” he snapped.

Fuck it. You weren’t about to put up with any more of these absurd accusations – you had at least that much self-worth. Who did he think he was to put you on the spot like that? And for what? All because he got his little ego hurt by the CEO?

Enough was enough.

Against your boss’ orders, you ripped off your apron and slammed it down onto the counter right in front of his eyes. It was probably the boldest move you’d ever made, but you didn’t care. You were livid and you needed to fix this mess.

“I swear to God, Y/N. If you even think of going out there, you’re fired, you hear me?” your boss called when he noticed you storming towards the exit.

The thing was, his threat went in one ear and out the other. You’d already committed to your decision when you’d ripped off your apron, so turning back was not an option for you. Besides, as if this shop would survive without you. You estimated the chance of your boss actually firing you during these busy times close to zero, so you were willing to take that risk for now.

“Y/N! Come back here! Y/N! I’m serious!” your boss screamed, his voice echoing through the entire shop.

But it was all in vain because you were already outside, the door shutting behind you and drowning out the sound of his angry screams.

To your surprise, you spotted the man you were hoping to find leaning against his fancy sports car, almost as if he’d known you would be coming to find him. At least good to know you hadn’t risked it all for nothing.

“Yah! Melon pan dude!” you called, stalking right up to him.

He chuckled as he pushed himself away from the driver’s door. “Melon pan dude? That’s what you’ve decided on?”

You chose to ignore that comment and cut straight to the point. “What the hell is your problem?”

“What my problem is?” he scoffed and took off his beanie to run a hand through his blond locks. “I did you a favor there, you know? The man is a fucking ass and you constantly let him walk over you like it’s nothing. That’s my fucking problem.”

“So what? You think that because you’re some big-shot CEO you can just force yourself into my life and mess with my job? What happened to staying out of my fucking business?” you bit back.

“This has nothing to do with me being a CEO and you know it. It’s about human decency and respect, which that piece of shit inside clearly doesn’t know anything about. If you can’t see why I had to say something, then you’re not the person I thought you were,” he snapped, a deep frown forming on his face.

“That’s just it! You don’t fucking know me, so why the hell do you even care? I’ve been doing fine without your help.”

“Fine?” He shook his head. “You call letting someone treat you like shit being fine? You’re not fooling me.”

“I don’t need you to tell me how I should feel, Mr. Know-It-All. Why can’t you get that through that big brain of yours?”

“Alright, you wanna be treated like crap? Be my guest,” he sneered, his eyes practically burning holes into your own. “But don’t be surprised when the whole thing backfires on you.”

“Just stay out of my business,” you warned, your stare just as intense as his. “That clear enough for you?”

“Don’t worry. I got the message,” he grumbled with a roll of his eyes before ripping his car door open. “Stubborn woman,” he breathed, but it was loud enough for you to hear.

Who the hell was he calling stubborn? He was the one inserting himself in situations that didn’t concern him, so if anyone was stubborn, it was him. You weren’t about to tell him that, though, not if you wanted to prevent the situation from further escalating. Besides, you’d already spent more than enough time arguing with the man, so it was about time you ended it before it would start attracting curious passersby.

Instead, you chose to stay silent as he got inside the fancy vehicle.

“Oh.” You prevented his door from closing by quickly placing your hand on the door panel, which earned you a surprised look in return. “You better find a different coffee shop.”

With that, you took your leave and made your way back towards the shop, where there would no doubt be more problems awaiting you.

Turned out your boss was actually serious about firing you. After you returned from your little squabble with Melon pan dude, you walked straight into your worst nightmare.

With a few customers in the shop, your boss gave you a death glare that had you shaking in your boots, and then, not so subtly, motioned for you to meet him in the back. You knew that there was no way of getting out of this, but that didn’t make you any less nervous.

You were right to be so, though, because all hell broke loose the second you’d shut the door behind you.

First, he yelled at you for disobeying him, after which he had the audacity to throw some more ridiculous accusations about you and the CEO your way. And then before you knew it, the man fired you without even letting you get so much as a word in. He made you turn in all your things and practically escorted you out the back of the shop as soon as you’d packed up, all within the span of five minutes.

The whole thing was so surreal that it took a few minutes of you standing outside to process the fact that you were now officially out of a job. You’d never been fired before, so the gravity of the whole situation really hit you when you realized you had no plan B to fall back on.

How the hell were you going to find something else on such short notice? Digging into your hard-earned savings to pay your rent was not something you had ever planned on doing, but it certainly seemed like a possibility now that you lost your only source of income. And rightfully so, that thought made you anxious.

You walked home with tears streaming down your face that morning. By the time the first sob escaped from your lips, you’d already forced yourself to move out of the shop’s vicinity – you didn’t want to risk your now ex-boss seeing you so vulnerable. And yes, you knew that it was pathetic to cry over losing a job where you weren’t even happy, but you couldn’t help it. It was like you’d turned on the faucet without a way to turn it off.

There were definitely a bunch of curious stares and disapproving looks thrown your way as you tried to navigate through Seoul with your blurred vision. If it had been any other day, you’d have hated the attention, but in your state, you just had too much going through your head to focus on something so frivolous.

One overly concerned lady even came up to you, asking if everything was alright and if there was anything she could do for you. The gesture was sweet, but the last thing you wanted to do in that moment was explain your shitty situation to a complete stranger. So, instead of sharing your troubles with her, you tried to assure her that it was nothing but a bad day and that you’d be fine in no time. It actually took quite some convincing to shake her off, but after telling her multiple times that there really was nothing to worry about, she finally let you go.

Following that brief interaction, you decided to stop by JamJam to get yourself a plethora of consolidation snacks, including a bunch of melon pan that could last you a couple of days.

Mr. Hashimoto immediately took note of the state you were in as soon as you stepped inside the shop, greeting him with bloodshot eyes and wet cheeks. Thankfully, he wasn’t one to pry and left you to it for the most part, which you very much appreciated. That was just the type of man he was, way too sweet for his own good.

In all your time of knowing Mr. Hashimoto, you didn’t think there had ever been a day he and his delicious treats hadn’t managed to cheer you up, which is probably why you visited the shop as much as you did.

Fortunately, that morning was no different – he gave you a generous discount and a few extra pastries that he knew you loved and sent you on your way with a few encouraging words and two bags full of heavenly goodies.

For the next few days that followed, you worked your way through those two bags without a care in the world. You alternated between crying your eyes out and stuffing your face with the sugary sweets while watching every true crime documentary you could find.

Only when there was nothing left for you to munch on or cry about, you decided that you’d had spent enough time wallowing in self-pity and forced yourself to crawl out of the blanket fort you had lived in for the past three days.

Being out of commission for a couple of days also meant that you hadn’t touched your phone since you’d entered your apartment and settled down in your blanket fort. But now that you had freshened up and sat down at your small dinner table with a fresh cup of coffee, your laptop, and your phone fully charged, you had to deal with the many missed calls and texts, most of them from your mom.

It wasn’t uncommon for her and your dad to check up on you at least once or twice a week. You knew there were plenty of people who would be ecstatic to receive all that attention from their parents, but not you.

All throughout your childhood and teenage years, your parents had felt the obsessive need to control every aspect of your life. It ranged from telling you how to style your hair and how to dress, to who you could or could not interact with.

It was so bad that the few friends that you did have eventually broke off all contact with you. You couldn’t blame them – because who wanted to hang out with a girl whose parents were so controlling and scary all the time?

But still, that didn’t make you feel any less lonely throughout the years.

Unfortunately, it didn’t stop there though. No. They even went as far as to sign you up for law school without so much as discussing it with you, basically forcing their preferred career path down your throat without a single regard for your wants and needs.

That’s really when you had enough. You didn’t want to go to some stupid law school, and you definitely didn’t want to follow in your dad’s footsteps and become a litigation lawyer. You wanted to be able to make your own decisions and get a taste of that adult life you’d been dreaming about for so long.

That’s why, after many many arguments and your parents threatening to cut you off, you finally made the decision to leave the place you’d called home for as long as you could remember.

When you first moved to Seoul, you didn’t have much aside from some money you had saved up. Your parents had lived up to their words and completely stopped giving you money, but you weren’t going to let that stop you from following your dreams of being independent.

For years, you had lived comfortably, never having to worry about being able to afford food, clothes, presents, you name it – one of the perks with your dad being a top lawyer and all. But with that luxury had come a ton of rules and restrictions that you wouldn’t even want to wish upon your worst enemy.

If finally being free meant that you actually had to work for your money for once, and struggle just like any other normal person, you were happy to do it. Besides, you never were about that fancy lifestyle anyway. A simple life where you could do whatever you wanted was all you needed.

So, you took on a couple of restaurant jobs to get yourself settled in, and as a result, you discovered your true passion – coffee making. You’d always been an avid coffee drinker and very much enjoyed the whole brewing process, but making a career out of it had never really crossed your mind. That was until you saw just how beautiful and satisfying the art of coffee making could be.

Seeing your barista co-workers create such pretty and tasty creations made you eager to try it out yourself, which eventually inspired you to enroll in a barista course and get your diploma.

Eventually, slowly but surely, after hours and hours of practicing your brewing and latte art skills, you became a true pro at your job.

It had taken a couple of years of you proving that you could make it out there without any help from your parents, but here you were, doing just fine without them. You were pretty sure they thought you’d come crawling back within no time and beg them to send you to that damn law school, but boy had they been wrong. When they understood that you were, in fact, not planning on coming back home, they gradually came around and dropped the whole “I want you to follow in your father’s footsteps” agenda.

At least, that’s what they made it seem like.

Initially, you’d been happy about the regular calls with your parents, mainly because you thought that they were genuinely happy for you and had finally accepted the barista path you’d chosen. But as the weeks passed, you realized that was far from the truth. Your parents might have thought they were being slick with their ‘positive’ approach, but it didn’t take you long to see right through it.

The constant calls were simply a means to keep an eye on you, making sure that you weren’t making a fool out of yourself in their absence while at the same time jumping at every opportunity to criticize your barista work.

It was for that exact reason you decided it was best not to tell your parents about the whole getting fired thing. Because although your friends were in the loop about your work situation, your parents definitely weren’t – and you liked keeping it that way. As far as they knew, you had an amazing job with a stable income and a boss who valued your work. Knowing how much they disapproved of your big move and career choice, this news would simply give them a reason to tell you a big fat “I told you so,” and you really didn’t want to hear any of that.

It was already bad enough that you’d ended up in this situation in the first place, so any form of negativity from your parents on top of that was something you didn’t think you could handle right now.

What you did need was a new job… fast. Because if you had to spend another week cooped up in your apartment feeling sorry for yourself, you would no doubt lose it.

Unfortunately, that task proved to be harder than you thought. While there were many barista opportunities in a big city such as Seoul, none of them particularly caught your attention.

The majority of the coffee shops out there only offered part-time positions, which you had no choice but to cross off your list. With only two or three days of work, you’d be forced to take on another job if you wanted to be able to afford rent, andthat was definitely out of the question.

As for the full-time positions you could find, they would all put you in a position that was way less favorable than you were currently in – living from paycheck to paycheck was not something you ever wanted to go back to. But then again, it wasn’t like you were in any position to be picky either.

“Ugh, what am I gonna do?” you groaned, slamming your laptop shut before burying your face into your hands in frustration.

If someone had told you two weeks ago that you’d be out of a job and considering a downgrade in salary, you probably would have declared them insane. But low and behold, that was the reality you were currently living, and it made you angrier than you would have expected.

You were angry at your asshole ex-boss for treating you like crap and always thinking the worst of you. You were angry at your lousy excuse of a co-worker, Sanghoon, for feeding your ex-boss a bunch of lies about you behind your back and basically throwing you under the bus despite all the shit you’d done to save his ass. Hell, you were even angry at yourself for letting your emotions get the better of you and allowing it to end the way it did. But absolutely nothing beat the anger you felt towards the man who had been at the center of it all – Melon pan dude.

Everything had been going just fine until that entitled prick showed up and decided to ruin your life. Perhaps ‘just fine’ wasn’t the best way to describe it, but at least you had been able to get by all that time without any major issues.

Then he came along and changed everything, whether he intended to or not.

Honestly, the more you thought about it, the more you felt like you should have known that he would be trouble the moment he set foot inside the shop.

Somewhere deep inside, you probably already knew he would be trouble, especially given the circumstances of your first meeting. Oh, and who could forget about the orange juice incident? Or the encounter with Mrs. Park? Not to mention the numerous provocations he had thrown your way over the past week and a half.

But even despite all of that, you never could have known that the CEO would indirectly become the reason for your getting fired.

Of course, you weren’t completely innocent either. You could have taken the time to think things through and approached the situation calmly, but instead, you let your emotions get the better of you and chose to confront him in the middle of your shift with your superior right there.

Then again, if only the dude hadn’t opened his big mouth, your ex-boss wouldn’t have said those awful things about you and him in the first place. And as a result of that, you wouldn’t have gone outside to look for him, and your boss wouldn’t have had to threaten you with your job – in other words, all of this could have been prevented if he had just stayed away from Oh My! Coffee like he said he would.

The man just had a talent for worming his way into people’s business and getting on their nerves. How he got away with it every single time was beyond you.

Your guess was that being managing CEO of a multi-billion-dollar business had something to do with that. Being in that position also meant that he would never have to worry about getting fired or running out of savings, and it just wasn’t fair. While you were out here being miserable, he was out there living his life while driving around in his fancy sports car, probably not even aware of the disaster he’d caused with his meddling.

Just what was so special about him? You didn’t get it.

Without even realizing it you’d already opened up your laptop once again, this time for a completely different purpose. You’d vowed to never research the man and become one of those people, but it was like your fingers had a mind of their own.

You needed to know what he was like outside of your interactions with him, so where better to look than the Internet?

Job ads long forgotten, you typed in the CEO’s name and clicked on one of the first articles that popped up. It was one of him closing a business deal with some big international corporation that would make him and the other CEOs of SEVENTEEN World even richer than they already were. Good for them and all, but it wasn’t exactly the type of content you were looking for.

If you wanted the gossip and details about his social life, you needed to turn to the blogs instead. That’s how you eventually ended up on Dispatch’s website, scouring their many articles about the man for anything that seemed interesting enough.

It didn’t take long for you to find something useful. You discovered that he had a younger sister who was a successful lawyer at a high-end law firm. There wasn’t really a lot of information aside from some details about his sister and a few pictures of the two of them together, so you were about to close it and move on to something else.

That was until you stumbled on another article that was linked to the one you were reading. The post was a little older – as in three years older – and the title read ‘Protective or Controlling? What to make of SEVENTEEN World’s CEO Choi Seungcheol?’.

“Why doesn’t this surprise me?” you snorted as you skimmed through the article with a newfound curiosity.

If you had to believe everything that was being said, he was extremely protective of her. Or, as others have described, perhaps a little controlling at times. The article mentioned a couple of instances, but the one that stood out most was the SEVENTEEN World anniversary party, where apparently, several reporters had noticed the CEO clinging to his sister’s side for pretty much the entirety of the evening.

Dispatch had even included a video with a little snippet of said event, where you could clearly see what the article had described in detail.

“Poor woman,” you mumbled, grimacing as you watched how the man shamelessly pulled his sister away from the small group of men she had been happily conversing with.

It was quite obvious from her facial expressions that she was anything but happy with her brother’s actions, but she just went along with it for the public’s sake, no doubt.

Seeing all of that reminded you a little bit of you and your parents back when you were still in high school. They had been less obvious than the CEO in their approach, but they were always very clear about keeping you away from “people not worth your time” or whatever the hell that meant.

So naturally, you felt bad seeing someone as successful as her having to deal with something – or rather someone – like that. But who knows? Perhaps he was, in fact, doing it to protect her for reasons not mentioned in the article. You could only infer so much from a couple of described instances and a 20-second-long clip without any additional context regarding their history.

The only thing you did know for sure after doing your little research was that his love for sticking his nose in people’s business was not just restricted to you.

By the time you finally ripped your eyes away from your laptop to check the time, a good hour and a half had passed since you started looking into Melon pan dude. You had been so caught up in trying to dig up information about the guy that you’d completely lost sight of your initial goal – finding a job that would pay the bills.

See? Even when he wasn’t around, he still had the ability to mess with your mind… and you hated it.

“Get your shit together, Y/N,” you whispered to yourself as you sat back down behind your laptop after a short break, now with a new cup of coffee to motivate yourself for another hour or two.

But that coffee only lasted you so long, and so did your motivation.

Just thirty minutes into your search you had already reached the point where you wanted to shut your laptop and call it a day. You almost did actually, already in the process of closing all your tabs when the Dispatch tab you’d forgotten to get rid of before distracted you again.

Only this time, it wasn’t an article that caught your attention but a job ad that had popped up on the right side of the screen. It was a barista opportunity, which, ironically enough, came from Cat Café SEVENTEEN, one of SEVENTEEN World’s large enterprises.

For just a moment after clicking the ad, you hesitated. Not because you hated the idea of working at a cat café, but because of its association with Melon pan dude, whom you wanted to avoid at all costs. That thought alone was enough not to want to entertain the idea in the first place. But then you made the mistake of glimpsing at the proposed salary, which threw all those thoughts right out the window.

The pay was at least a twenty percent upgrade from your salary at Oh My! Coffee for only five days a week, which was crazy, considering you used to work six days a week plus unpaid overtime. On top of that, you would be working evenings for the majority of your shifts, which meant extra time to sleep and worry-free mornings. Considering the fact that you were not a morning person, this arrangement would be more than fine with you.

And then there was, of course, the fact that it was a freaking cat café. You hadn’t yet had the chance to visit their Seoul location – or any location for that matter – but from what you’d read on the official website, customers were highly encouraged to play and cuddle with the cats during their visits. You were a big animal lover, with cats and dogs tying at the top of your list, so it only made the place seem that much more appealing.

The obvious connection between the café and Melon pan dude did briefly cross your mind again as you read through the vacancy, but those worries were quick to dissipate when you stumbled upon a list of the twenty cats currently residing at the café.

Who in their right mind could say no to those cute little faces? You definitely couldn’t, nor did you want to pass up on such a great opportunity.

That’s why you decided to send in your application before that little voice in the back of your mind could convince you to back out.

In all honesty, you were prepared for the worst – especially seeing as bad luck just seemed to follow you wherever you went – which is why you were all the more shocked when you got an email notification not even three hours later. You’d been in the middle of drinking yet another cup of coffee, which you nearly spit out at the sight of the sender and subject header.

“No fucking way,” you breathed, a small smile forming on your lips as you carefully read through the email. Maybe there was still a little bit of luck left in you after all.

“Y/N, right?”

“Yes. Thank you for considering me, Mr. Choi,” you greeted the man you’d come to know as the CEO of Cat Café SEVENTEEN – Choi Hansol.

You would expect him to be super busy, having to manage all those cafes in different locations and all. But here he was, meeting you for your interview as if he didn’t have anything better to do. You didn’t know whether to be honored or anxious.

“No need to be so formal,” he chuckled before sitting down a comfortable-looking chair. “Just Vernon is fine. Please. Take a seat.”

“Right. Thank you,” you mumbled and sat down in the other available chair.

Now that you were sitting right across from the man, you suddenly felt the nerves creep into your body. The way he had made it sound on paper was everything you could have dreamed of – almost too good to be true even. But you truly hoped that wasn’t all it was because if you had to relive another Oh My! Coffee experience, you were going to punch a wall.

“Your resume is impressive. Barista certificates, work experience, and people skills. We’ve been looking for another experienced barista for quite some time now,” he nodded before crossing his arms in front of his chest. “If you don’t mind me asking, is there a specific reason you left your previous job?”

“Oh, uh, I…” Shit. Now what? Telling your prospective boss that you got fired from your previous job would certainly not help you leave a good first impression. However, lying was also not how you wanted to go about it. “Well, it’s a little complicated, I guess,” was all you could come up with in your panic.

Way to fuck it up, Y/N.

“Complicated, huh?” the CEO mused, his brows furrowing as he studied the documents in front of him.

Oh no. Was this going to be the moment he tells you it isn’t going to work out after all?

“Let me guess? You got fired?”

Your eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets at his speculation. “Yes,” you whispered before quickly averting your eyes in embarrassment. This interview was so not going how you wanted it to go.

“I see. Your resume tells me you worked at Oh My! Coffee, which means that Park Wonshik must have been your boss, correct?” He waited for your confirmation, which you gave by slowly nodding your head while wondering where he was going with this. “Well, I don’t know him personally, but I’ve heard a couple of things about the man. Word travels around fast in my world and he’s known to have a rather… how should I say this? Unorthodox way of handling things, I guess is the right way to put it?” he chuckled.

“You could say that,” you muttered, feeling a surge of anger spread through your body at the thought of that jackass. Watch him ruin your chances of getting another job without even having to lift a goddamn finger.

The sound of paper rustling snapped you out of your little trance. “What I’m trying to say is that I’m not going to hold this against you,” he started while folding the documents he’d been looking at just a few moments ago. “We’ve all had to deal with shitty bosses at some point, so no need to look so scared,” he grinned, which took you by surprise.

“I’m willing to give everyone a chance if I think they’re a fit. I’d like to think of myself as a pretty laid-back boss, so as long as you work hard, we won’t have any problems.”

Well, that was definitely not what you expected to come out of his mouth. Perhaps you’d been too quick to jump to conclusions.

After having spent less than ten minutes in his presence, you could already tell that the CEO sitting in front of you was the complete opposite of the CEO who had made your life hell for the past two weeks.

For one, he did not give off ‘entitled prick’ vibes. On the contrary, he seemed like one of the most chill guys you’d ever met. If you hadn’t done your research and looked him up before meeting him, there was no way you would have believed someone like him to be one of the country’s most successful businessmen. The fact that he was conducting your interview in jeans and a simple white t-shirt paired with a jean jacket told you as much. You were all for it, though. A suit would have made the whole thing much more formal, and seeing as you were nervous enough as it was, the casual outfit certainly helped relieve some of the tension.

You just needed to make sure he liked you enough to hire you.

“Alright!” The CEO clapped his hands. “Now that we have that out of the way, I have a very important question to ask you,” he said, suddenly turning very serious as he slightly leaned himself forward.

“How do you feel about cats?”

You couldn’t help but release the breath you’d unknowingly been holding, suddenly feeling a lot more relaxed. “Oh, I love cats! Lived with three of them back home, so I’m very comfortable around them,” you smiled brightly.

The man across from you nodded, seemingly satisfied with your response. “Good, I just wanted to be sure. We’re a cat café after all, so you’ll be stuck with them every shift,” he laughed, which you returned with laughter of your own.

“Oh, please. I hardly see that as a punishment. If I’m being honest, the cats were actually the reason I was so excited to come here in the first place,” you confessed, hoping that it didn’t make you sound like a complete suck-up. It was true though. Their presence would no doubt make your workdays much more bearable.

“Is that so? Well, in that case, would you like to meet them?”

You were already nodding before he’d even finished his sentence. “I’d love that, Sir.”

“Didn’t I tell you to drop the formalities?” he grinned while getting up from his chair.

“Right, sorry,” you mumbled, not used to being so informal with a higher-up.

“Don’t worry about it,” he shook his head, motioning you to get up. “You coming or what?”

You nearly jumped out of your chair at his question, already thrilled at the thought of getting to meet every single one of those adorable kitties.

“Yes, right behind you!”

He ended up guiding you out of his office and through part of the café before opening a door that led to a large, cozy-looking room.

The giant space was filled with cat trees and houses of various sizes, fancy cat beds, and an abundance of cat toys, some of which you didn’t even know existed. Most of the walls were decorated with jumping platforms, tiny ladders, and cute hammocks suitable for cats, which gave it a little bit of a playground vibe.

It was like you’d stepped right into cat paradise, and you loved everything about it. You literally couldn’t stop admiring while the CEO provided you with more information.

“This is the room the cats reside in when the café is closed. Since we open at ten, we already moved them into the café, but I just wanted to give you a better picture of how we do things around here.”

“Is there anyone who checks up on the cats during the night?” you asked, noticing a few cameras mounted to the ceiling.

“Yes, we have a special caretaker who checks up on them twice a night. He usually helps me move the cats from one room to the next after closing and makes sure they get the right food and treatments. We have a vet on call in case of emergencies as well. Oh, and she also does their monthly check-ups.”

“Wow, that sounds like a great system,” you replied, finally managing to put your full focus on the CEO once again.

“We kinda have to with so many cats,” he snickered before motioning you to follow him again. “Without this system, we wouldn’t be able to do even a quarter of the things we’re doing.”

You quickly followed behind him, trying your best to store all the information he was telling you while trying not to trip over your own feet.

He finally stopped in front of another door, this time a larger and prettier one that was made entirely out of glass. Now that you got a good look at it, you observed that the walls in this part of the café were made of glass as well.

Realizing that you were admiring the glass construction, the CEO turned to face you. “Pretty isn’t it? During the designing phase, I decided to section off a small part of the café and turn it into a cat-free zone. With a lot of people coming in for their to-go orders, we just didn’t want to put unnecessary stress on the cats. Also, there are several regulars who love our drinks and sweets but don’t want to be surrounded by cats all the time, so it works out perfectly,” he explained.

“That’s actually… genius. You’re so smart,” you mumbled, which earned another laugh from the CEO.

“I know right? I have my moments.”

“Right. Of course you do,” you breathed, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks.

Of course he was smart. How else would he have become so successful? Obviously not by making a bunch of impulsive decisions.

“You ready?” he looked at you expectantly.

“Very.”

That was all the confirmation he needed before he opened the big glass doors. Your eyes went wide at the sight that greeted you.

This part of the café was huge, even bigger than the cat room you’d been in before. Aside from the cat trees and wall-climbing constructions that could also be found in the other room, this room had a completely different vibe.

First, you noticed that there were numerous small benches placed against the walls throughout the entire room, with another few dozen small tables located in the center to utilize the space to its full capacity. Then your eyes fell on a big open area on the left side of the room, which was decorated with a variety of bean bags and two large boxes with plenty of cat toys to choose from.

It was another cat paradise. That was for sure.

You were – again – so distracted by the layout of the room that you hadn’t even noticed the ball of fur approaching you. “Oh! Hi there, cutie. Who might you be?” you cooed at the cat that was now rubbing against your legs.

“That’s Aeng-Du. She’s a curious one. Feel free to pick her up. She loves attention and cuddles.”

You didn’t need any more encouragement after that and quickly leaned down to scoop the fluffy cat into your arms. It was the best feeling ever and you wished it didn’t have to come to an end. The last time you held a cat was years ago, so you’d almost forgotten what it felt like to cuddle one – heavenly, that was the only way to describe it.

Not long after that, other cats started showing up. There was Suk, whom you were told was a very clingy baby who needed lots of cuddles. There were Kyu and Hae, two siblings who were found in a dumpster and now living their best lives at the cat café. There was Bin, who was described as the clumsy one of the group, always tripping over his own paws. And there were many more, but there simply wasn’t enough time to pet them all.

There was, however, one cat that seemed reluctant to approach you, never straying too far from the CEO but at the same time keeping an eye on you at all times.

“Who’s that?” You pointed to the cat hiding behind the CEO’s legs.

“This? This is Jang-Mi, one of our newest additions. She’s been getting along with the other cats just fine, but she’s still a little scared when it comes to meeting new people. She just needs some time to warm up,” he said and leaned down to scratch her cute little forehead.

“Are you familiar with our concept?”

“I am!” you nodded, smiling down at a now fast-asleep Suk in your arms. “I think it’s wonderful that you’re giving these cats a chance to find a new home like this. They’re adorable.”

You thought the concept of a café and adoption center in one was simply ingenious. While the cats were given the chance to find their forever homes like this, customers were able to find a furry friend they could shower with love and affection. And the relaxing atmosphere certainly helped them get closer in a more natural setting. It was a win-win situation.

“Who knows? You might end up adopting one yourself at some point. They are very hard to resist,” he smirked.

“I wish,” you sighed.

Although the thought of adopting a cat was very tempting, your small apartment was not at all suitable for a cat. Besides, your landlord didn’t allow pets, so that was definitely out of the question… for now, at least.

“Ah, before I forget, there’s one final test.”

“Final test?” you questioned, gently placing Suk inside one of the cat beds near the closest wall.

“Yes. You don’t think I’d let you prepare coffee for my customers without having tasted it, right?”

“Oh,” you breathed, relieved that it wasn’t anything impossible. “Of course, Si- Vernon,” you quickly corrected yourself when you noticed him giving you a look. It was going to take a while to get used to the first-name basis thing.

Reluctantly, you left the kitties behind to do what you actually came here to do – making coffee.

Vernon introduced you to Jay and Areum, two very bubbly staff members who took care of most of the serving and assisted with the making of non-caffeinated drinks during the busy hours.

You also met Jia, the barista responsible for the morning shift, who was kind enough to tell you all you needed to know. It was so refreshing to see that, unlike Sanghoon, all of them actually knew what they were doing and contributed something rather than sitting on their asses all day.

If you did end up getting the job by some miracle, you at least wouldn’t be doing all the work by yourself like you’d been doing for over two years.

After that short information session, Vernon instructed you to make a few of the most popular coffee drinks on the menu for him to taste: an iced Americano, a flat white, a vanilla latte, an espresso, and a cappuccino.

The task sounded easy enough. If anything, you’d probably be able to do all of those with your eyes closed, latte art included. But seeing as you didn’t want to come off as cocky when you hadn’t even gotten the job yet, you chose to keep that particular comment to yourself and quickly got to work with the knowledge Jia had bestowed upon you.

Since all the coffee machines were very high-end – and much better than the ones that were available at Oh My! Coffee – it took you even less time than it normally would have taken you to finish your task. Jia was there with you the entire time, watching carefully as you did your thing, and only commented here and there when you needed help finding a specific tool or syrup.

“Wow. I think that was the fastest I’ve ever seen anyone complete five orders,” Jia gawked after you’d placed the final order on your tray.

“Oh, really?” you asked, surprised, and turned your head just in time to see her nodding.

“Yes,” she chuckled. “I don’t even think I’d be able to do that, and I’ve been working here for a few years now.”

“Well, thanks, I guess?” you grinned, happy to receive a compliment from a fellow barista. It made you feel extra good about the coffees you made, so you were all too eager to pick up the tray and take it to Vernon, who was sitting at one of the smaller tables.

“Finished already?” he asked, briefly glancing at his watch when you announced your presence. “I have to say I’m usually more of a quality over quantity kind of person, but I’m pretty impressed. The latte art is fantastic, very fitting,” he nodded as he admired the cute cats you’d shaped on three of the coffees.

“Thank you. I hope they are to your liking,” you said, crossing your fingers behind your back as he picked up the glass filled with iced Americano first.

Watching him try your coffee creations was probably one of the most nerve-wracking things you’d experienced in a long time. It wasn’t like you weren’t confident in your skills – because you were – but the CEO’s face remained so stoic for the entirety of it that it made you wonder if you’d done something wrong.

What if the coffee was too strong? Or what if the foam wasn’t to his liking? Those were the types of questions that kept going through your mind as you waited for his verdict.

“So, the thing is,” he started after having tried all of the five drinks. “I actually don’t enjoy drinking coffee.”

Wait, what?

How the hell was he supposed to judge your brewing skills if he didn’t even like the taste of coffee? The man literally ran a café where the majority of the clientele consisted of coffee drinkers for god’s sake.

“I see,” you frowned, not knowing whether to cry or laugh at the information he had just shared with you.

Sensing your confusion, Vernon motioned for you to sit down across from him.

“I usually get one of my friends to try the coffee, but no one was available today,” he explained when you’d sat down. Ah. That made a little more sense, even though it did nothing to calm your raging nerves. “And judging by your facial expression, I should probably just get straight to the point, huh?”

“Yes, please,” you blurted without another thought, just wanting to get rid of this uncertainty you were feeling.

“Alright, alright,” he laughed, seemingly amused with your reaction. “What I’m saying is that your coffee is good, better than good even. Hell, I might even start drinking coffee if it’s always going to be like this,” he stated.

Your mouth dropped open in disbelief at the praise. “Wow, I- Are you serious?” you stammered, feeling at a complete loss of words.

A non-coffee drinker telling you your coffee was so good that it could potentially convert him was the ultimate compliment in your eyes.

“Do you see me as someone who would joke about such things?”

“Would you hate me if I said yes?”

“I like you,” he smirked before taking another sip of the cappuccino you’d prepared.

“So, does that mean you’re hiring me or…?”

He placed the coffee cup he was holding back onto the tray. “That depends on what your answer to my next question is going to be.”

“Okay?” you gulped nervously, waiting for him to speak.

The CEO leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms as a grin slowly made its way onto his face.

“Can you start tomorrow?”

“Vernon, everything good?” Seungcheol asked as soon as he picked up his friend’s call.

It was very much unlike Vernon to call him – or anyone for that matter – with the exception of emergencies. He was more of a texter, and any work-related calls were usually handled by his personal secretary, Cho Byungho, so for him to call Seungcheol on a random weeknight was somewhat worrisome.

“Yeah, Hyung. Everything is fine, no worries,” Vernon assured his friend. “The reason I’m calling you is to tell you that you need to come to the café for some coffee.”

Well, thatwas not what the CEO expected to come out of his mouth. He’d been prepared for something bad, not his friend inviting him for a goddamn coffee.

“You called to tell me that? I stepped out of an important meeting with Jeonghan to take your call. What the hell happened to your no-call policy?”

“Yeah, about that…” Vernon cleared his throat. “I had to make an exception for this. Listen, you’re still looking for a new coffee place, right? Well, I just so happened to have found a new barista. And you also know how I’m not a fan of coffee, right? I had a few sips and let me tell you my mind was blown, that’s how good it was. She’s like a freaking coffee guru.”

The man wasn’t wrong. Seungcheol was indeed still looking for a new coffee place.

Ever since your argument the other day, he hadn’t been back at Oh My! Coffee and he intended to keep it that way. You had finally gotten what you wanted. Not that the feeling wasn’t mutual. Just the thought of having to face you again after that was enough to make his blood boil.

How could someone as mouthy as you be so stubborn to let that pathetic excuse of a boss belittle you on a daily basis? Seungcheol just didn’t get it. And he didn’t want to stick around for it either, regardless of how good the coffee was. But unfortunately, that decision also meant that he was back to square one, trying to find a coffee bar that matched the quality of your coffee.

“How good can it be? Last time you said you found someone good I ended up throwing that shit away,” Seungcheol scoffed, recalling the bitter coffee one of Vernon’s previous baristas had prepared for him.

“I’m telling you, it’s different this time. She just started, but customers are loving it already. I have no doubt you will love it too.”

The coffee at the café had never been up to the CEO’s standards, so he had a hard time believing that it would actually be different this time. And the fact that the cat café owner wasn’t exactly the best judge when it came to coffee didn’t help his case either.

“I don’t have time for this shit, Vernon,” Seungcheol sighed, already feeling like he’d wasted enough time with this pointless conversation.

“Come on, Hyung!” the other man whined. “Just stop by after you’re done with your meeting. And take Jeonghan Hyung with you too. It’s been ages since you both visited the café.”

“Ugh, fine,” he groaned, praying that the other CEO would let him get back to his meeting if he just agreed to it. “But you’re paying.”

“As if I would ever let you pay. See you later!” was the last thing Vernon said before abruptly ending the call.

“This guy,” Seungcheol mumbled with a shake of his head before returning to the conference room.

About two and a half hours later, the two CEOs found themselves in Seungcheol’s car, driving towards Cat Café SEVENTEEN. Their meeting had dragged on for far too long – way longer than the one and a half they had initially scheduled – so both men were glad to be done with it. Although Seungcheol had been reluctant to pay a visit to the café not too long ago, the thought of getting a dose of caffeine after that tiresome ordeal sounded like music to his ears.

“So, what exactly did Vernon tell you about this new barista?” Jeonghan asked from the passenger seat.

“Nothing aside from the fact that her coffee is good,” Seungcheol shrugged.

The fashion CEO couldn’t help but snort at that. “Vernon said her coffee was good? The man doesn’t even like coffee.”

“Tell me about it. That’s why I’m not getting my hopes up.”

“I’m definitely intrigued,” Jeonghan chuckled. “By the way, I didn’t get a chance to ask you yet, but what’s up with you?”

“What do you mean?” Seungcheol asked, knowing very well what Jeonghan was referring to. He just wasn’t in the mood to talk about any of it, not even with his best friend.

“You’ve been acting… I don’t know, strange?”

“I’m not doing anything different, so I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he responded, hoping that the other CEO would just drop the subject.

“Now that’s some bullshit. You’re suddenly doing these random check-ins without announcing yourself beforehand. You never used to do that.”

“So what? I just want to be more involved, is that so wrong?” Seungcheol frowned, his grip on the steering wheel tightening ever so slightly.

“It’s not wrong. It’s just odd, that’s all.”

“Well, there’s nothing going on. Just drop it, Jeonghan,” Seungcheol snapped as he turned off the car engine.

The other man sighed in defeat as he opened the car door, knowing he was not going to get much more out of his friend. “If you say so.”

What Jeonghan didn’t know was that there was, in fact, a reason Seungcheol was suddenly dropping in for surprise visits at every single one of the SEVENTEEN World HQs.

With the news of his other best friend and his sister being in an intimate relationship, he’d made it his mission to keep an even closer eye on the two of them. In the best-case scenario, he would catch them red-handed, either at or outside of work.

However, in order to achieve that, he needed to be as subtle as possible, which was a lot harder than he thought with so many eyes on him. Because if he only targeted Wonwoo, the other CEOs and their secretaries were bound to get suspicious, which is why he’d come up with the current tactic – check up on each of the CEOs to cover up the fact that he was actually only interested in Wonwoo.

As for his sister, she was no doubt wondering what the hell had possessed him, with his sudden interest in her personal life and his frequent unannounced visits at the oddest times. But Seungcheol didn’t care. He was determined to see this through to the end – that is, he would play along with their lies until he was ready to confront the two.

“Hyungs!” Vernon called out from behind the counter as soon as the CEO pair had walked through the door.

“Sup, Vernon?” Jeonghan greeted, raising his hand to greet his other friend.

“Come meet the barista I’ve been telling you about,” Vernon said excitedly as he motioned to the woman standing by his side.

“Cheol?” Jeonghan asked, noticing that his friend had stopped walking and was instead shooting daggers at something ahead.

The CEO in question suddenly understood what Vernon had been talking about when he said it would be different this time, and he definitely understood why his friend had been so utterly positive about the quality of his new barista’s coffee. Because the barista Vernon had been praising was you, the woman who’d made the best coffee he’d ever tasted, but also the woman he so desperately wanted to avoid.

Why the hell were you here?

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

© All right reserved — ourdawnishotterthanourday // Please do not repost or edit any of my works without my permission!! If you see any of my works outside of this Tumblr, pls report it to me asap. Thank you in advance!

AAAND THAT'S A WRAP FOR PART ONE OF MELON PANG! Hope you enjoyed and want to come back for more 🤭

I am not sure yet when part two is going to be released, but I will keep you updated as much as I can! All I can say is that it's going to be interesting hehe 👀 Expect a lot more interaction between Cheol and the reader + other CEOs.

Feedback/comments/reblogs are highly appreciated!

☀ if you want to be added to the tag list (or removed), leave a comment, or send me an ask and specify that you want to be tagged for my SEVENTEEN World tag list!

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whatsnewalycat · 5 months

Text

Once in a Blue Moon

One Shot // Dieter Bravo x HotelStaff!F!Reader

Description: You're the only person working when a Christmas blizzard rolls into town and snows you in with a notoriously difficult guest, Dieter Bravo.

Rating: E (Explicit 18+ Only)

Word Count: 12.9k+

Tags/Warnings: one shot, slight dub con elements (power imbalance, isolation, alcohol) although both parties are enthusiastically consenting, hotel guest x hotel staff, blizzard, Minnesota because that’s my best friend, dieter generally being an ‘if you give a mouse a cookie’ ass bitch, kinda enemies to lovers???, Christmas, loneliness, palm reading, food and eating, cannabis, conspiracy theory mention, fluuuuuufffff, smut, dirty talk, a dash of conflict, painting stuff, power outage, poverty mention

Note: Merry Crisis! This is part of a secret Santa gift exchange and a present for my dearest Syl (@all-the-way-down-here @im-sylien). I hope you enjoy!! Have an excellent holiday, friend ❤️🎄

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 23RD, 2:00 PM

“We are right in the bullseye for what people are already calling The Great Christmas Storm. Blizzard Warnings remain in effect throughout most of Minnesota until Tuesday morning. Forty to fifty mile-an-hour winds, combined with an anticipated twelve to twenty-four inches of heavy snowfall, are expected to create whiteout conditions, making travel dangerous or impossible in the Blizzard Warning areas. If you must travel—”

You kill the engine and look up through the windshield at Blue Moon Manor. The white exterior of the three-story Tudor Revival mansion seems to glow in contrast to the dark clouds hanging overhead. Some rich guy built it as a family home in 1905. It stayed in the family for over a century before a property management company scooped it up. Now the ornate family heirloom is a boutique hotel. Go figure.

You open your car door and grab your backpack from the backseat, swinging it over your shoulder as you step out of the vehicle. As you walk up the path to the staff entrance, snowflakes start floating down from the gray, low-hanging clouds like teeny-tiny feathers, landing on your cheeks and nose, melting on impact.

So it begins.

You press your security code into the door lock, waiting for the quiet beep-beep-beep of approval before shoving the door open to the back office.

Your coworker Jenna looks up at you when you enter giving you a nod of greeting as she zips up her jacket, “How is it out there?”

“Just starting,” you drop your backpack on the built-in bench and take off your stocking cap, shaking out your hair as you ask, “How’s it been here?”

“Let’s just say I’m ready to go home and drink some wine,” she snorts, “Should be a piece of cake for you, though. 202, 203, and 101 checked out early because of the storm, and the check-in today cancelled.”

“Storm of the century,” you mutter, “Merry fucking Christmas.”

“I hear it’s gonna get nasty. Do you really have to stay the whole time?”

You wave her off as you peel off your jacket, “It’s fine.”

“I’m sorry I can’t cover some of the shifts.”

“Really, it‘s fine,” you insist while hanging up your coat, “Bossman said he’d pay me double time to stay ‘til he gets back to town.”

“You’re goddamn right he’s gonna pay you double time.”

Trying to change the subject, you go over to the daily checklist, “Ok, 202, 203, and 101 are gone,” you frown, running over your mental tally of guests, “So, what? Just 302?”

“Just 302. Lucky you.”

“Yeah, lucky me,” you roll your eyes, then look out the window at the snowfall, heavier now, “You better head out before you get stuck here with me and Mr. Fluoride Mind Control.”

“I suppose,” she sighs, grabbing her purse, “Well, have a Merry Christmas?”

“You too,” you smile and meet her eyes as she extends her arms and beckons you closer. You groan, but accept the hug, face pressing against her puffy winter coat.

When she steps back and starts towards the door, she tells you, “Don’t have too much fun now.”

“I’ll try not to,” you snort, “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” she calls behind her as she opens the door, letting in an icy-cold draft of snowflakes before closing it behind her.

You sigh and wiggle the mouse on the computer. The second you do, the service bell dings.

“Fucking already?” you mutter to yourself as you follow the floorplan through the kitchen, into the formal dining room, then finally arrive at the archway to the parlor.

You find the man staying in Suite 302 leaning against the grand piano, thrumming his fingers on the shiny surface.

Wearing pajama pants and a grubby t-shirt, chestnut curls shooting up every which way, he sighs and taps the call bell again. The shrill ding makes your eye twitch a little, but you paste on an amenable smile, “Mr. Bravo, how can I help you?”

He spins towards you and looks at you over his sunglasses, dark eyes flicking up and down your body before settling on your face, “Can I get some towels?”

“Of cour—”

“And can you do that thing where you fold them into animals?”

You furrow your brow and tilt your head at him, lips parting to ask what he means, but he preemptively answers.

“Some hotels fold them into swans or elephants or whatever. You know what I mean? Towel animals.”

There’s no way he’s not fucking with you.

“I, uhh…”

He raps a knuckle on the piano, then saunters off, calling back, “Thanks, you’re the best!”

You stand there for a moment, mouth agape as you watch him disappear up the stairs, thinking: No fucking way I’m doing that.

And yet, half an hour later, you’re sitting in the back office watching a YouTube video on how to fold two towels into an elephant.

Following along with the step-by-step, you make the legs. Easy enough. The head ends up looking like an uncircumcised cock with wings, though. You set it on top of the legs and take a step back, glancing between your creation and the video’s example. As a final touch, you stick a couple googly-eye stickers on it.

“Good enough,” you sigh and tuck the microfiber monstrosity under your arm.

When you arrive at Suite 302, you pause for a moment, turning your ear towards the door. You hear the old wooden floor creaking as he walks around humming to himself. It smells like paint and skunk spray.

You swallow your buzzing nerves and knock on the door, fidgeting a little as you wait.

Inside, a fit of coughing erupts, and he chokes out, “Hang—on—”

His footsteps squeak across the floor to the kitchen. Clink of glass. Water faucet. The coughing stops for a few silent seconds, then he groans and the footstep squeaks grow closer.

A cloud of weed smoke bitch slaps you when the door to Suite 302 swings open.

He frowns at you, crossing his arms in front of his broad chest as he leans against the doorframe, “Hey, uhhh…”

“I got your towels,” you smile, presenting the towel elephant to him.

His eyes drop to the elephant, then he raises his eyebrows, “What is this?”

“An elephant?”

He glances between you and the elephant, flattening his mouth into a line before telling you, “Looks like a dick and balls with googly-eyes.”

The force you use to hold down your laughter makes you snort.

So fucking professional.

Your eyes meet his. An amused smile graces his lips as he takes the elephant.

“Anything else I can get for you?”

“Yeah, can I, uhhh… can I get some snacks? Something sweet, something savory.”

“I’ll see what I can find,” you nod, peering over his shoulder into the hazy room, “Just a reminder, we don’t allow smoking.”

“Oh, it’s not cigarette smoke.”

“I can smell.”

It goes straight from your brain out your mouth, drenched in sarcasm. So fucking professional.

His eyebrows shoot up in a surprised expression.

“I apologize, Mr. Bravo—”

“Oh, fuck that. Don’t,” he chuckles, waving off your stammering, “Call me Dieter, by the way. Mr. Bravo makes me sound like a fucking… karaoke machine.”

“Ok,” you chuckle, then put your customer-facing demeanor back on and tell him, “I’ll go see what we have for snacks. Let me know if you need anything in the meantime.”

He pushes off the doorframe, giving you a nod of acknowledgment as he steps back into Suite 302 and closes the door.

You return sometime later with a silver serving tray hosting a variety of cheeses, dried fruit, olives, spreads, and crackers. When you knock, he hollers to leave it outside the door, so you do.

The remaining daylight you spend cleaning.

Blue Moon Manor has eight suites: one on the first floor, four on the second, and two on the third. Working from the bottom up, you rid the recently vacated units of dirty dishes and trash, then collect the linens and haul them up to the laundry room on the third floor.

By this time, the serving tray you left outside Suite 302 has disappeared. The pot smoke, however, dissipated throughout the entire level. It seems even stronger than the last time you were up here. Almost like he completely disregarded your polite reminder of the no smoking policy.

You decide to table the issue temporarily. If he was still smoking by the time you returned to take his dinner order, you’d remind him again.

The prospect of confronting what your boss referred to as “a very important client” intimidates you, though, if you’re being honest.

Not that you’re particularly intimidated by him as a person or anything.

Sure, he has an IMDb page and some awards, but beyond that, he’s just another entitled guy.

It’s more so the influence he has on your employment that intimidates you. Sometimes your feral mouth speaks before your poorly-domesticated brain can articulate a proper response. If you were to say something combative, and this guy complained to your boss, you’d probably lose your job—a loss you cannot afford.

When it’s time to take his dinner order, you gather yourself before knocking on his door, repeating your script in your head as you wait. Then the door swings open and you’re absolutely blindsided.

He answers while wringing his hair out with a towel. It’s one of the two you brought him earlier. You can tell because there’s still a googly-eye stuck to it, pupil shaking around inside its little plastic dome. The other towel clings to life around his waist, parting to show off a slice of his tan thigh.

Regrettably, you follow your knee-jerk reaction to ogle him, looking him up and down before returning to his expectant eyes.

This results in an uncomfortable staring contest, where you’re trying to make your mouth work and he’s trying to figure out what the fuck you want, as made evident when he asks, “Do you need something?”

“Dinner,” you blurt out, then shake your head, “Sorry, I mean—What’ll you be having for dinner, Mr. Bravo?”

“What’re the options?”

“Chicken roulade or salmon.”

He groans, throwing his hair-drying towel over his shoulder.

“Do you guys have any normal food, or does it have to be upscale bullshit?”

You pause to once again gather yourself, and in that two-second silence he decides, “I’ll take the chicken roulade.”

“Dining room or room service?”

He shrugs, looking over his shoulder into the suite, then back at you, “Dining room.”

“Fabulous. While I’m here, can I take your tray from earlier?”

“Let me get it,” he mumbles, closing the door. While he’s gone, you go over the lines you rehearsed, and when he opens the door to hand you the tray, you tell him, “Just as a reminder, we don’t allow indoor smoking—”

“Look, usually I open the window and use a doob-tube, but, uhhh… the weather outside won’t allow it. I don’t want the wind to fuck up the crank windows.”

“But still—”

“And not that it’s any of your business, but I have a medical condition that I treat with cannabis. This is prescribed to me—”

“What? I’m not—”

“Besides, it should be legal—”

“Ok, you know what? Fine! Smoke away, but don’t be surprised when the manager fines you for it, plus the cost of extra cleaning charges.”

He crosses his arms and straightens his spine, “I can live with that.”

“Great,” you snip, taking a big step back, “Dinner will be ready at six.”

He closes the door a little harder than necessary and you stomp down to the kitchen, fuming the whole way.

Lucky for you, dinner prep involves flattening chicken breasts with a meat tenderizer, which helps tame your frustration. As you follow the recipe, sprinkling seasonings and feta cheese onto the breasts and rolling them up like neat little sleeping bags, potential consequences for your outburst run through your mind. Bad review, getting canned, all that.

Maybe if you hadn’t been dealing with this guy’s shit for the past two weeks, you would’ve been able to handle the situation with a level head. But his haughtiness is fucking grating. He can’t just answer a question or make a simple request. It has to be a whole production that makes it clear: he thinks he’s better than you.

By the time you finish cooking, though, you come to peace with the fact that you’ll probably have to kiss his ass to rectify the situation.

When the grandfather clock in the parlor chimes six times, you plate the chicken roulade and bring it to the dining room, slightly surprised to see him already seated at the table.

“Mr. Bravo,” you smile in greeting.

“Dieter.”

“Dieter,” you repeat as you set the plate down on his place setting, “Can I get you anything to drink? We have a Sauvignon Blanc that would pair well with the chicken—”

“I’ll take it.”

You go to the sideboard and find a bottle of wine. As you pour him a glass, he wrings his hands together and glances around, “Anyone else coming down?”

“Just you.”

“What about you, where do you eat?”

You shrug, setting the bottle down beside his glass, “In the kitchen.”

“You could eat out here.”

“Oh. It’s fine, sir. Really, I don’t mind.”

His nose wrinkles up under his sunglasses and he shifts in seat. You study him for a moment, sensing an air of loneliness about him.

“Unless you want me to join you.”

He shrugs, “Seems silly for both of us to eat alone.”

“So true,” you nod, clasping your hands together, “I’ll uhhh… I’ll be right back.”

When you return with your plate, you sit across the table from him. An uncomfortable silence settles in the room. The kind that makes your skin feel too tight and amplifies every little noise. The chewing, the utensils clinking, the wet swallows, everything seems ten times louder than reality.

Clearly, it’s not just the two of you in this dining room. There’s a third guest, the giant invisible elephant wedged between you.

He finishes his glass of wine and pours another, asking, “Do you want some?”

“I… shouldn’t.”

“Uh-huh,” he raises his eyebrows, looking at you over his sunglasses, “Do you want some anyway?”

You consider it, squishing your face to one side with indecision.

“I won’t tell on you, sweetheart, I promise.”

Your eyes flick to his, finding a sort of amused playfulness there.

“Fine,” you smirk and push back your chair, going over to the wine cabinet to grab a glass, “Just one.”

“No one’s twisting your arm about it.”

You return to your seat and reach across the table to grab the bottle, pouring only a small helping.

“Cheers,” he holds up his glass.

You mimic the sentiment and take a big sip, then tell him, “Mr. Bravo—”

“Dieter.”

“Dieter,” you nod, glancing at your wine glass, “I, umm… I apologize if I was rude earlier.” You meet his eyes and shrug, “If I’m being completely transparent, my boss will have my ass if the whole third floor smells like weed when he comes in next week.”

He watches you as he absorbs this, face inscrutable.

“But if you want, I can show you the back patio. You can smoke out there all you want, I really don’t care about that part.”

Leaning back in his seat, he takes a swig of wine, then says, “Fine.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” you smile.

“Uh-huh,” he sets down his glass, wiggling around a little as he tells you, “For the record, you weren’t being that rude. Well, maybe a little, but… I don’t mind. Suits you better than the bullshit customer service thing you do.”

You blink at him, biting your tongue, then return to cutting your food and making small talk, “Well, I hope you didn’t have any big plans for the holidays. Traveling might be tough the next couple days.”

He shakes his head, “Not doing it this year.”

“Not doing Christmas?”

“Nope. What about you? Do you celebrate Christmas? Any plans?”

“You’re looking at ‘em,” you gesture around the room with your wine glass and take a sip.

“No shit, you have to work?”

“I’ll be working until the storm passes. Tuesday at the earliest, by the sounds of it.”

“Yuck. You guys have a staff bedroom, or do you get to stay in a suite?”

“I have my pick of the empty suites.”

He pokes the food on his plate with his fork, “Which one are you picking?”

You chuckle a little before answering. Maybe it’s your imagination, but you detect a certain vibe coming from him. Not only that, but he’s attractive in a way you’re not entirely immune to.

“I think I’m gonna try a new one each night,” you tell him, “101 for sure, maybe 301 and 203. Not 201–“

“Oh well obviously, fuck 201.”

“Obviously,” you laugh, shaking your head.

He smiles at you, sparking heat at your center, then both return your attention to your food. The rest of the meal passes in a much more comfortable silence. Not wanting to overstay your welcome around a guest or veer further into unprofessionalism, you rise as soon as you finish.

“I’ll get out of your hair, but if you need anything, ring the bell. I’ll be around.”

“Sure,” he studies you over his sunglasses as you gather your dirty dishes, his jaw ticking back and forth, then he says, “Hey, thanks for keeping me company. It was nice.”

You want to tell him you thought it was nice, too. Or maybe say something about how it felt like a mildly off-putting but not entirely unsuccessful first date. Not at all what you assumed it would be like.

Instead, you give him a polite smile and nod, “Of course.”

—

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 23RD, 8:00 PM

DING

You look up from the cribbage game on your phone at him, just a few strides away but apparently oblivious to your presence. He fidgets with the sleeve of his high-drama fuzzy jacket, shifting his weight from side-to-side. Waiting.

“Hi—”

“Holy shit!” He startles, gripping his chest, “Where the fuck did you come from?”

Before you can stop it, you snort out a laugh, then cover your face reflexively, “I’m so sorry Mr.—”

“Dieter.”

“Dieter,” you nod as you rise to your feet, stuffing your wide grin into a neat smile, “How can I help you, sir?”

“Call me a fucking ambulance for the heart attack you just gave me,” he jokes, shaking his head, then takes a step towards you, “No, uhh… I was gonna step out to smoke, do you wanna join me?”

“Oh—umm,” you chuckle a little, briefly considering the offer before politely telling him, “No, thank you.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure,” you glance down at his feet, clad in mismatched socks and crocs, “But here, let me clear off the back patio so you don’t have to stand in the snow.”

He shrugs and follows you through the parlor into the dining room, where you tell him, “Just give me a minute, I’ll put my stuff on.”

“Take your time,” he murmurs, going over to the sideboard, “Is this fair game?”

“Help yourself.”

“Do you want one?”

He flips over a lowball glass on display and sifts through the decanters of liquor, plucking out a bottle of finely aged whiskey. A drink sounds good. But the prospect of this virtual stranger fixing you a drink makes you uneasy.

Does he know that it’s just you and him under this roof for probably the next few days? Between the offer to smoke you up and pour you a drink, is he intentionally trying to intoxicate you? Or is he just being cordial?

You realize he’s staring at you, waiting for a response. Heat rises to your face. Shaking your head, you tell him, “I’m fine, thanks.”

He uncorks the decanter and turns to pour whiskey into his glass, so you dismiss yourself to the back office.

After bundling up in winter gear, you grab a shovel, then start towards the dining room. You stop short in the kitchen. The motherfucker walked right past the STAFF ONLY sign and started rummaging through the fridge.

“You’re not supposed to be back here.”

He glances back over his shoulder at you, “Why not?”

“Because—well, because—”

“Can you make me grilled cheese?”

He straightens and closes the fridge door, turning to face you. You, clad in your coat and boots and hat and all that shit, holding a shovel, just blinking at him, mouth agape.

“Right now?”

His jaw shifts to one side as he genuinely considers the question.

“Can I shovel first?”

“Sure,” he shrugs.

“Thanks,” you mutter, then trudge past him into the dining room.

He follows along behind you, through the hall to the back door, asking, “Do you have tomato soup?”

“Probably. Want some with your grilled cheese?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

When you twist the door handle and yank it open, a knee-high snow drift topples over at your feet.

“Jesus Christ,” you hiss and flip on the outdoor light switch to peek outside. A strong gust of wind knocks you back a step, carrying a flurry of shimmering, swirling snowflakes. Your cheeks sting at the icy cold sharpness of it, eyes watering in protest.

What a fucking nightmare.

“Forget it,” you huff, slamming the door closed. You prop the shovel against it and turn to Dieter, pulling your gloves off, “I don’t care, can you just use the doob-tube and turn on the fan in the bathroom?”

“The fan doesn’t work.”

You release a big sigh, tugging off your hat as you lean on the wall and kick off your boots, “Of course it doesn’t. Alright, plan C.”

—

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 23RD, 8:45 PM

The range hood’s fan roars to life.

“Have at it,” you tell him as you walk over to the sink and unlock the window, pulling it up a few inches.

Dieter pulls a palm-sized wooden container from his coat pocket and leans back against the stove, twisting the top open. A one-hitter pops up from one of the two barrels of the container. He takes it and stuffs it into the dugout, “So, what, we’re all trapped here until the storm passes?”

You cross your arms in front of your chest and shrug, “Theoretically.”

“Figures,” he mutters, then pinches the pipe between his lips. He pulls a pink lighter from the pocket of his fuzzy coat and brings the flame to the other end. The tip brightens to a glowing ember as he inhales.

“I thought you didn’t have any plans.”

He holds the smoke in his lungs and croaks out, “I don’t,” before turning to blow the smoke into the fan intake.

“Are you upset that you’re snowed in with me?”

“It has nothing to do with you, sweetheart” he glances at you, then takes another hit.

“Ok, let me rephrase,” you shift, casting your gaze to the floor, trying to conceal the warmth blooming beneath your skin, “Are you upset that you’re snowed in?”

He shrugs, “I don’t like being stuck places. Especially another fucking hotel.”

“Whadda you mean?” you frown.

Your question hangs in the air while he takes another hit. He grimaces and steps over to the sink beside you, tapping ash from the little metal pipe with his lighter, then returns to his place at the stove and packs another onie.

“Did you ever watch the documentary Beasts of the Bubble?”

You shake your head.

“Don’t, it’s dogshit,” he snorts and takes another hit. On the exhale, he asks, “You know that I’m an actor, though, right?”

You nod.

“Right, well, long story short… Early COVID days, I was out in England shooting a movie and they wouldn’t let us leave the hotel.”

You have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes, sensing heavy dramatics on the horizon.

“They wouldn’t let you leave the hotel?”

“My friend—well,” he wrinkles his nose, “Yeah, my friend. She tried to escape, got her fuckin’ hand shot off.”

“Holy shit, seriously?!”

“Yeah, Lauren Van Chance. Pow! Shot right off. Fucking brutal,” he shakes his head and takes another hit. As he blows the smoke into the fan, he coughs a little, then shakes his head, “Anyway—wait, why am I talking about this?”

“Because we’re snowed in.”

“Oh—yeah. I dunno, feeling like I can’t leave… my therapist said it’s a trigger, I guess.”

“I get that,” you search his face, watching him frown at the one-hitter. Apparently satisfied with how stoned he is, Dieter releases a relaxed sigh and sets the onie down on the counter.

“If it’s any consolation, I promise I won’t shoot you if you try to leave. Like… I don’t know, you might need some snow shoes or whatever, but you could—”

He waves you off, “Eh, it’s fine. It’s just a thing, you know? Makes me feel all fuckin’ cagey and on-edge. Restless.”

You lick your lips and nod, glancing at the floor before you look at him, “Anything I can do to help?”

“Bud helps,” he shrugs, “Talking helps.”

“Does grilled cheese help?”

It takes him a moment to understand what you’re asking, but when he does, he chuckles, “Grilled cheese is basically a fucking Xanax.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then let’s get you a grilled cheese.”

—

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 24TH, 10:00 AM

“The Department of Transportation has declared a state of emergency, and urges people to shelter in place as snow will continue to fall in the Twin Cities and across most of central and southern Minnesota through tomorrow. Overnight, some places received as much as 10 inches, with 40 mile-an-hour winds creating drifts—”

DING

Regrettably, your heart skips a beat.

You tuck your phone into the back pocket of your slacks and cross the kitchen, pushing through the swinging door into the dining room. When you get to the parlor, you find Dieter fiddling around with priceless antiques displayed on the shelves of an ornate built-in bookshelf. He glances over at you, “Hey.”

“Good morning, did you sleep ok?”

Nodding, he pulls his attention away from the bookshelf and takes a step towards you, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants, “Did I miss breakfast?”

“No, what can I get for you?”

“Denver Omelet?”

“Sure,” you clasp your hands together behind your back, “Hashbrowns? Fruit? Anything to drink?”

“Yes, yes, and yes—coffee, water, orange juice with pulp.”

“Down here or in your room?”

“Here is fine.”

“You got it,” you smile, walking back to the kitchen. The creak of his footsteps mimic yours on the old hardwood floor, so you think he’s going to sit at the dining room table, but the duo whine of the swinging kitchen door takes you by surprise.

You turn to face him, “Oh, you don’t have to—”

“May I?” He holds up the wooden onie box.

“Sure,” you nod, clicking the range hood on, then go to crack the window open.

The soft murmur of the radio fills the silence while you prep his breakfast and he smokes. You absentmindedly hum along to the Christmas music, dicing a green pepper, an onion, and some ham. By the time you approach the stove to start cooking, he’s tucking the paraphernalia away in the pocket of his pajama pants.

“Have any big plans for the day?” He asks as he goes over to the coffee pot and pours himself a cup.

“Ahhh, well… I think I’m gonna knock out some tasks that are hard to do when we’re busy. Inventory and deep cleaning, things like that. What about you?”

He shrugs, leaning back against the counter, “Gonna try to keep plugging away at painting ideas.”

“Oh yeah? What’re you painting?”

“It’s uhhh… it’s part of a series I’m working on, capturing the essence of interesting hotels across the country.”

“Really? That’s—that’s actually really cool. I love that. And you chose Blue Moon Manor?”

“Well yeah,” he sighs, looking around, “It’s gorgeous. The original features are well-preserved, all the intricate woodwork and craftsmanship. It’s unique, I like it.”

“I agree, it’s a special place.”

“I’m just… I don’t know, I’m stuck at the starting line, not sure what to paint. I haven’t found anything here that feels right yet.”

You look between him and the menagerie of omelet fillings sizzling in the pan, “Have you seen any of the other suites?”

“In pictures.”

“If you want, I can show you around today? All the vacancies are made up pretty. You can poke around and see if you find any… I don’t know, inspiration, or whatever.”

“Yeah?” He grins, “That would be… yeah, fuck yeah, that would be amazing.”

—

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 24TH, 2:00 PM

You may be in trouble.

Not the kind of trouble punishable by anyone but yourself, but still.

What you mean is that you think you might have a crush on Dieter. Or, more honestly, what you mean is that you know you have a crush on Dieter.

This revelation occurred to you about halfway through your impromptu tour of Blue Moon Manor.

You were standing in the sunroom of Suite 203 while he wandered around, jotting down notes and taking pictures on his phone. The snow fell heavy outside, coming down in thick wet clumps that made it difficult to see beyond the border of the property. Everything blanketed in a pristine, shimmering white.

A deep sense of isolation plummeted your heart to your feet. Christmas Eve, when people all across the world gathered with loved ones, and you were working. Not that your empty one bedroom apartment missed you much. At least if you were there, you could lay in bed eating raw cookie dough while watching your comfort tv show. Throw yourself a proper pity party.

So, there you were, wallowing in your circular loneliness, going around and around the drain of self-pity, when Dieter approached you.

“Hey, you alright?”

You snapped out of your trance and looked at him, finding something very earnest and knowing in his eyes. It surprised you. He didn’t strike you as the kind of person who generally cared about what others were feeling.

“Yeah, just… thinking about how much I’m gonna have to shovel,” you chuckled, brushing off his concern.

“Sorry, you just looked… I don’t know, kind of sad.”

“I’m fine,” you assured him with all the sincerity of someone whose pants were on fire.

“Uh huh,” he studied you for a moment, then looked down at his phone and shook his head, releasing a big sigh, “I think I’m ready to move on.”

“Alright, follow me,” you pushed off the window and walked past him. As you did so, you misjudged your space and brushed up against him.

Pure negligence or subconscious desire, you’re still not sure, but the contact was a static shock. This quick jolt of heat that made you gasp and jump away from him, stammering, “Oh shit. Sorry, I, um—”

He chuckled, a handsome, dimpled smile stretching across his face, “It’s fine.”

“I’m embarrassed,” you blurted out. As if it wasn’t obvious enough.

“Don’t be,” he shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged, “Accidents happen.”

“Ok,” you laughed and buried your heated face in your hands, then regained your composure and said, “Ok, let’s see Suite 201.”

“Is that the shitty one?”

“It’s not shitty,” you snorted, starting towards the door, “It’s perfectly fine, just not as glamorous as the rest of them.”

“Uh huh. Like the ugliest Miss America contestant.”

“Sure—”

“Or the uhh… the smallest blue whale.”

“Yeah, I mean—”

“Suite 201 is to this hotel what Def Leppard is to glam rock.”

“Wow, ok,” you laughed, ushering him through the doorway into the hall, “Yeah, I think you got it.”

The whole dumb interaction is all you can think about. It plays over and over again. That look, the accident, Def fucking Leppard. The rush of excitement you feel when you see him or even just think about seeing him.

It is undeniable.

You have a big fat crush.

So fucking professional.

For what feels like the hundredth time, you lose count. You toss your clipboard down on the stack of fluffy white towels in defeat, scrubbing your hands over your face.

Maybe a cleaning project would be more productive. The first floor common rooms need dusting, or you could scrub the floors, or prep dinner, or blah blah blah… god, it all sounds so fucking boring.

Curiosity prods your heart.

You tiptoe through the laundry room, out into the third floor hallway, and linger there for an indecisive moment, listening to the low bass of his humming to himself and the thick pulse behind your ears. A few cautious steps towards Suite 302 reveals a DO NOT DISTURB sign hanging from the doorknob.

Rejection takes the shape of a stone in your mouth, heavy and hard and cold as you swallow it down. It settles uneasy in your gut.

Dusting it is.

—

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 24TH, 6:59 PM

Every minute that drags on feels like an eternity.

The grandfather clock in between the library bookshelves mocks you.

Tick-tock-tick-tock

Begins to sound more like:

He-doesn’t-like-you

You glare at it, then down at your phone, swiping away a low battery warning to continue playing cribbage.

Outside, the wind snarls. Blue Moon Manor groans in resistance, and you wriggle deeper into the sofa cushions, telling yourself: Five more minutes then I’ll check on him.

It’s so dumb.

Really, you know how it sounds.

But not once has he put out the DO NOT DISTURB sign. For two weeks, he has been consistently demanding, never letting more than three daylight hours go by without asking for something.

As soon as you let yourself feel some affection for him?

Can’t get far enough away from you.

He-doesn’t-like-you-DING! DING! DING! DING!—

You sigh at the clock.

—DING! DING! DING!

“Fuck’s sake,” you mutter.

The lights die.

All white noise drops except the crackle of the fireplace, howling wind, and ticking clock.

“Fuck.”

Two floors up, something clatters to the ground, then Dieter hollers something unintelligible.

Well, he seems chipper.

You climb off the couch while googling power outages in the area.

Footsteps thud down the steps onto the first floor landing.

“Hello?”

“I’m in the library,” you call, not looking up from your phone as you text your boss.

His steps draw closer, then there’s a light in the doorway.

“This place is so fucking creepy in the dark, Jesus Christ,” Dieter hisses, “What’s the deal?”

You squint up at his dim figure, “Storm took out the power. I texted the manager to see if there’s a genny.”

“Genny?”

“Backup generator,” you turn on your phone’s flashlight, “Sorry for the inconvenience, I’ll go see if I can find some lighting if you wanna wait here—”

“I’m coming with you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, sir—”

He gestures for you to lead the way, so you start towards the back office with Dieter hot on your heels. Once inside, you go over to the desk and pull open a drawer, fish out a headlamp, and slide it around your head. When you press the on button, a beam of light shoots from your forehead onto the desk.

“Cute,” he teases.

You look at him, unintentionally shining the light in his face.

He steps back and shields his eyes, “Jesus!”

“Ope. Sorry sir,” you stifle a laugh, grab a second headlamp from the drawer, and hold it out to him, “Do you want one?”

Grumbling under his breath, he takes it from you and slides it over his fluffy hair, then turns the light on.

“Ok, this is pretty sweet,” he admits as he starts wandering around the room, “I feel like a miner or something.”

“There should be a tote in here somewhere that has a bunch of candles,” you tell him as you start rifling through cupboards. When the search comes up empty, you try the closet, where you find a big purple tote labeled CANDLES.

“Here we go,” you pull the heavy container out into the room.

“Want me to carry that?”

The offer holds about as much conviction as a drain holds water. He leans back against the desk, plucks a pen from the pencil cup, and starts doodling on your daily checklist. Barely interested.

“No, I got it.”

You lift it and shuffle past him, slightly demoralized, then immediately bump into the doorway, “Oop.”

His headlamp blinds you, making you wince, then he chuckles, “Here.”

Dieter pushes off the desk and steps towards you, laying a gentle touch to your shoulder.

When you forfeit the tote, you notice the dark smudges dried onto his hands and forearms.

“Were you painting?”

“Yeah,” he awkwardly adjusts his grip, then starts back the way you came. You follow behind him, trying to aim your light at the ground by his feet.

In the kitchen, he says, “It smells good in here.”

“Probably the roast I made for dinner,” you pause for him to maneuver through the swinging door into the dining room, “I can get some for you after we get the candles going.”

He holds the door open with his foot and waits for you to pass through the threshold before setting the bin down on the dining room table.

“Thanks,” you say as he steps aside.

The white candles come in three shapes: pillar, votive, and stick. All of them unscented, so when you pop off the lid to the tote bin, the only thing you can smell is wax and dust and old flames.

You grab a half-melted pillar and ask, “Hey, do you have a lighter?”

He rummages through his pockets and pulls one out, then takes the candle from you. The flint sparks into a tiny flame that he holds up to the wick until it ignites, casting a warm golden glow onto the walls and ceiling. You pass him another pillar. The pads of his fingers brush against your hand when he takes it, sending your heart racing.

“Hopefully this isn’t a uhhh… weird or alarming thing to ask—”

“Oh god, what?”

“Is there anyone else here?” He lights the pillar and hands it to you, “You’re the only other person I’ve seen around.”

You take the lit pillar and set it down shrugging, “There, aren’t umm… no, it’s just me and you.”

“Oh.”

Where hyper vigilance should be, that old warning to not take candy from strangers, or not to turn your back on a man you don’t trust, something hungry and loud starts to grow. A devastating need for him to creep closer. For him to cross the boundary of what might be considered moral or right in such a situation. To touch you in ways that inspire heat between your thighs.

He doesn’t, though.

He just helps you light candles and strategically place them around the common rooms on the first floor, uncharacteristically reserved. You both remain quiet while you go about doing this, but the silence isn’t entirely uncomfortable. It’s the kind of silence that feels more like a peace treaty than a punishment.

Your phone buzzes with a notification, and you pull it out, reading the text message out loud, “We don’t have a backup generator.”

“Shit.”

“And power might be out until Tuesday.”

“Tuesday? Are you fucking serious?”

“I apologize, sir—”

“Don’t do that,” he scoffs, shaking his head, “That whole… hospitality voice thing.”

The words come out sharp and bitter.

Your blood pulses hot, and you hear yourself say, “I’m a hospitality worker, exactly what tone of voice do you expect I use?”

“Like I’m a person, not a fucking client or whatever. I’m so sick of that shit, everywhere I go people kissing my ass,” he goes to the sideboard and flips over a glass, pouring whiskey while attuning his voice to a feminine, mocking tone, “Oh, Mr. Bravo, sir yes sir, do you need anything? Do you want a snack or a nap, do you need to be swaddled, do you want your dick sucked?”

He pauses to take a swig of the liquor.

Meanwhile, steam might as well be coming out of your ears. Just fucking boiling with rage, needling the red danger zone.

“I hate it. You all talk to me like I’m a goddamn toddler, it’s so fucking annoying—”

“Oh, fuck off. I’m annoying?”

He leans back on the sideboard and blinks at you, swirling the whiskey in his glass.

Stomping over to the liquor display, you pour a drink and seethe, “Ever think that maybe if you didn’t act like a fucking toddler, people wouldn’t treat you like one? I mean, for Christ’s sake, dude. You literally take a nap every afternoon and demand we cut the crust off your sandwiches. Last week you threw a temper tantrum because we put tap water in your sippy cup.”

“Ok, first of all that was a water bottle. And, have you ever tasted the water here? It’s disgusting. Not to mention the fucking—”

“The fluoride, I know,” you roll your eyes, “I know I know I know. It’s gross and contains fluoride and tastes like blood or whatever the fuck—”

“I did not say it tasted like blood,” he quips, pauses to take a sip, which you mimic, then he adds, “It does, though, for the record.”

“My point is that… If everywhere you go smells like shit, maybe you should look under your own shoe. You dig?”

For a moment, you can’t read him. He stares down into his glass, twisting his wrist around in a way that draws attention to the thick-banded rings on his fingers. Then he glances up at you, a smirk playing on his lips, “That’s perfect. Can you just talk to me like that from now on?”

Your head jerks back, and you let out a little scoff, “What, like a bitch?”

“No,” he chuckles, “Like… I don’t know. Real. Real-er, anyway. You seem cool. You, though. Not your toothless, sanitized worksona.”

“Jesus,” you scoff into your glass, shaking your head, “I’m not sure what to say to that.”

“Anyway. I just mean… talk to me like I’m a person, not a fucking guest or whatever.” When you look up at him, he shifts a little and adds, “Please.”

You hold his gaze long enough for your stomach to flip, then chicken out, dropping your eyes to your glass, “Sir yes sir.”

He lets out a chuckle, shaking his head, “Uh-huh.”

You appraise the remaining whiskey in your glass, then tip it back, wincing at the burn as you set the glass down.

“Do you want me to bring some candles up to your room, or will you be dining down here?”

“Will you be joining me?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Yeah, of course,” he shrugs, “If you’re not busy.”

“I think I can squeeze you in,” you tease.

His tongue pokes out to wet the seam of his lips, then his smirk breaks out into a big, boyish smile, “You think so, huh?”

The innuendo makes itself clear. Your face heats up and you snort, “Shut up.”

“Hey, you said it, not me,” he raises his hands defensively, following you as you start towards the kitchen, “Is it cool if I smoke?”

You push through the swinging door, holding it open for him, “I can’t turn the fan on.”

“Uh-huh,” he ambles over to the counter beside the sink and casually hops up onto it, “Is that a yes or a no?”

After taking a moment to weigh the pros and cons, you sigh, “Just… blow it out the window, ok?”

So he smokes while you pull the roasting pan from the oven and prepare two plates, piling on potato wedges and green beans and hearty slices of roast beef. You wrap up your activities simultaneously, then move back to the dining room.

While you set the table, he goes over to the wine cabinet and asks, “Wine?”

You hesitate, once again contemplating the pros and cons of answering in the affirmative. If the wine goes to your head, you could make a mistake. On the other hand, maybe it would help untangle your knotted stomach. Make it easier to converse with him.

“Don’t feel like you have to say yes,” he adds when he notices your trepidation.

“Fuck it, why not?”

So fucking professional.

With his back turned to you, he surveys the bottles displayed in the wine cabinet, “Pinot? Cab?”

“Actually, I was thinking of breaking out the 2016 Cos d'Estournel.”

He looks over his shoulder at you, “The what?”

“Left side, second row from the bottom,” you point to it from across the room, “Dark bottle, white label.”

Once he finds it, he lifts it from the rack and studies it, “Cos d'Estournel. Ritzy stuff,” he sets it on the table between your seats, “What’s the occasion?”

“What is this, a role reversal?”

He grins at this. Then, as if committing to the bit, he strides over to pull out your chair. When you raise your eyebrows at him, he smirks, “Humor me.”

You roll your eyes a little as you sit down, but truthfully, your heart stutters.

Dieter walks back to the cabinet and picks out two wine glasses, “So? The occasion?”

“I don’t know,” you frown, “Well, I mean, I do know, but it’s hard to explain.”

He doesn’t say anything as he twists a corkscrew into the wine bottle and yanks out the cork, then pours the rich red wine into one glass, and the other.

“It’s just… I don’t think I’ve been in a situation like this before. It’s strange. The storm, the holiday, the manor, the-the you.” He smirks, sliding a wine glass over to you, and you give him a nod of thanks, “I feel like anything could happen or nothing at all and I wouldn’t be surprised either way.”

Again, he doesn’t respond, but a thoughtful expression creases his face as he takes the seat across from you. Not sure what to make of it, you ask, “Does that make sense?”

“I know what you mean, yeah,” he leans back in his chair and swirls the wine around in his glass, meeting your eyes from across the table, “The possibilities within the confines of these walls are endless.”

The way he looks at you conjures impure thoughts. Hand between your thighs, nails digging into his back. Bending you over the table and pulling your hair.

You raise your glass in the air, “To the possibilities.”

“To the possibilities.”

—

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 24TH, 9:30 PM

You sit at either side of the lush Victorian sofa in the library, cashmere blankets draped over each of your legs. Illuminated by the warm glow of candelabras and the crackling fireplace, you flip through a book on palm reading while Dieter draws in a sketchpad.

For a while, he seemed quite engrossed in the project. Brow furrowed, hunched over the pad of paper as he scribbled. But with each monotonous tick-tock-tick-tock from the grandfather clock, he starts to stir more and more.

He finally tosses the sketchpad down beside him, leaning back and letting out a long groan, “I’m so boooorreeeeed.”

“Drama,” you tease, peeking over your book at him, “Can I do anything to help?”

“Can I open another bottle?”

“Go for it.”

Dieter jumps to his feet and clicks on his headlamp. The dancing beam of light fades out of sight as he walks into the hallway.

With a sigh, you look down at the book and try to continue reading, but keep losing your spot. Your attention instead is drawn to the fireplace. Its flickering flames seem to pull you into some kind of a trance, coaxing out bite-sized daydreams and nightmares, trying to predict what will happen when you and your fresh new crush start drinking in the dark.

What happens if we get drunk? Would we fuck? Would we fight? Would he be mean? Or pushy? Would I make a fool of myself?

You sit here for a while, letting these tiny fires burn out in your brain, so engrossed that you barely notice Dieter mosey back into the room.

“Hope wine is ok,” he says as he clicks the headlamp off, then he sets out two wine glasses and a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon on the coffee table.

“Of course, sir.”

He snorts and shakes his head while leaning over to twist a corkscrew into the bottle.

“Sorry. Habit.”

“Don’t sweat it, sweetheart,” he yanks the cork from the bottle, then pours out two servings, “What’ve you there?”

“Hmm?”

“The book.”

“Oh,” you hold it up to show him the cover, “Cheiro’s Palmistry for All.”

He holds out a glass to you. You set the book aside and take it from him, crossing your legs to get more comfortable.

“Palm reading?”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, “I don’t know, it seemed interesting.“

“Have you ever been to a palm reader?”

Shaking your head, you take a sip of wine. Then another. A warm buzz tingles on your tongue and you ask, “Have you?”

He nods, “Yeah. Well, kind of. I dated this girl who dabbled in divination,” he takes a big gulp of wine, then sets his glass on the coffee table and moves closer, gesturing for your hand, “Here.”

“You know how?”

“I picked up on some stuff,” he shrugs.

Leaning forward, you place your glass next to his and bring yourself closer, extending your hand to him.

He holds it like a fragile thing, gentle but steady, “Is this your dominant hand?”

You nod.

Smoothing a thumb over your palm, he coaxes you to unfurl your fingers. His skin is warm and soft on yours as he examines you, thick fingers tracing the creases of your palm.

It feels nice. Intimate, almost. No thanks to the wine and ambient lighting.

“This side shows your conscious mind. Your life right now,” he clears his throat and says, “You’re perceptive, intuitive, a little moody. Emotions tend to run the show, but you’re also a realist. You have a passion for life and adventure, but often find yourself paralyzed by the reality of your situation, leaving you in a constant state of dissatisfaction. Logical, hard-working. You’re independent. You’ve had financial and emotional hardships. Not many serious romantic relationships, mostly flings. But this doesn’t mean you don’t get attached easily. You do, but tend to put up walls to protect yourself and disconnect before it gets too serious.”

Static vibrates through your skin. An eerie, frantic feeling of being seen too close for comfort. You swallow hard and study his face, too afraid to confirm or deny its accuracy.

“Cup your hand,” he instructs, guiding your hand to do so. Furrowing his brow, he examines the soft fleshy bits on your palm, poking and prodding them, “You have a temper, but you’re shy. You’re cynical. Closed-off. Reliable, because you have to be, but you wish you could just say fuck it and run away sometimes. That’s umm… that’s who you are in practice. Other hand.”

You give him your non-dominant hand. It’s shaky and sweaty and as he takes it you chuckle, “Sorry, I’m… nervous.”

Grinning, he glances up at you, “So I’m doing well, then?”

“Yeah,” you gulp, heat rising to your face, “It’s… yeah. Hang on, can I…?”

You take your hand back and wipe it on your pant leg, then reach over to grab your wine glass, swallowing the remainder of your wine. He does the same, then refills them.

While this is happening, you can’t help but notice the thick current of electricity pulsing between you.

You take turns stealing fleeting glances, and when you return to face each other, legs crossed, you’re much closer than you were before. Your knees meet his, maybe probably definitely crossing the line of what is considered appropriate distance for you to have with a hotel guest. Neither of you seem to mind, though.

In fact, it seems like quite the opposite.

As you extend your non-dominant hand to him, he huddles even closer, so close you can smell the Bordeaux on his breath, and cradles your hand in his.

“This side shows your natural tendencies. Who you are in theory, who you will be if you follow your intuition,” he murmurs, eyes flicking to yours, then back to your palm as he slides his index finger along a deep, diagonal crease, “First of all, your fate line is strong. If you follow your intuition, you’ll succumb to it.”

“Ominous.”

He frowns and shakes his head, reverentially tracing the sensitive map of your palm, “No, actually. You’ll have a crisis or two. One big one, at least, some kind of a revelation that causes you to upend your life. But it sets you on a path of vitality and happiness and strength. A few smaller ones, not as momentous, but still significant. The hopeless romantic you are, you’ll fall in love hard and fast, but that’s the one that sticks. You freely express your emotions and feelings. It’s… I mean, it seems good. Who wouldn’t want that? Cup your hand for me, sweetheart.”

You do.

He smooths his thumb over the mounts and divots, tilting his head at them, “You’re stubborn and you have a strong sense of self. Hedonistic. Imaginative. You daydream a lot. I don’t think you’re as reserved and shy as you let on. Maybe it’s a defense mechanism you learned along the way.”

You look up at him, finding his eyes locked on yours. A deep longing bubbles up your spine and you feel yourself lean in a little closer. He continues caressing your hand, dropping his gaze to your mouth, and asks, “Do you want my advice?”

“Sure.”

“I think you should follow your intuition. See where it takes you. I think… you need to let go of whatever reservations you have from the past, because it’s holding you back from a beautiful life.”

There’s a part of you that boils red and hot with denial. It screams from the back of your head that this is all bullshit, he’s just trying to fuck you, to use because he’s bored and tipsy.

But really, you know he’s right.

You know you’re dissatisfied with your white-knuckle, fake smile existence. You ignore your desires and inner-most knowing in favor of security. You attribute more weight to the negatives than the positives in every aspect of your life.

“You’re saying I should follow my gut?” you ask, studying his face.

He brushes your palm with his thumbs, “Yeah. I think so.”

You look down at his touch, hesitantly bringing your unoccupied hand to his forearm, allowing yourself to feel his warmth, “But what if it’s wrong? What if I make a mistake?”

“But what if it’s right?”

Meeting his eyes, you recognize the longing in his heavy-lidded gaze. You bring your hand to his cheek, sliding your thumb across his patchy facial hair, heart pounding, nerves buzzing as you close your eyes and lean in.

His soft lips meet yours. A gentle, questioning kiss that flips your stomach upside down. You pull back to make sure it’s ok. He seems to do the same, dark eyes flicking around your face before slipping a hand behind your head and pulling you back in.

The second kiss holds more conviction. A spark that ignites you both, quickly leading to the third and fourth kiss, at which point they start to blend together, a mess of tongues and spit and gasps.

You climb onto his lap, straddling him, pressing your body onto his. Through the fabric of his pajama pants, you feel his hardened excitement and use it to your advantage, rolling against him to gain friction. He grabs your hips and rocks them in sync with your movements, groaning into your mouth.

Heat builds steady at your core, tingling and gushing through your veins, screaming for more more more. Aching to feel the warmth of his skin on yours, you slip your hands under the hem of his shirt and slide your palms up his back, pulling him closer.

He parts from your lips to take off his shirt. You do the same, unbuttoning your shirt and tossing it aside, then reach back and claw at your bra clasp.

“Let me,” he signals for you to turn around. You do, climbing onto your knees with your back facing him. His fingers ghost along your spine, leaving a trail of twitching, hungry nerves in their wake.

“That feels good,” you tell him, arching your back with a whine.

“Good,” he murmurs, continuing the tedious touch, “I wanna make you feel so fucking good, sweetheart. Is that what you want?”

“Yes.”

When he unclasps the bra, you slip it off while he slides a hand around your belly and pulls you back into his lap.

He leaves a trail of kisses from your shoulder to the nape of your neck, where he stops to massage his tongue against you. A moan erupts from your throat at the tingling, hot sensation it cultivates. His hands roam around your body, over your breasts and ribs and abdomen, activating all those often-neglected nerves, but never staying long enough to bring relief.

“Fuck, Dieter,” you whine, “You’re teasing me.”

“Maybe,” he chuckles, smoothing a palm up your sternum and urging you to lay back onto his chest. You follow the suggestion and recline against him, head resting on his shoulder. Your skin buzzes where it meets his, the warmth of him flooding your brain with feel-good chemicals. He drags his fingers along the soft skin of your belly, making you whimper.

“But it feels good, doesn’t it?”

You nod.

“Don’t you want to savor it?” He cups your breasts and rolls your nipples between his fingers and thumbs, sending a rush of pleasure to your head, “Don’t you want me to show you how good it feels when you finally let go?”

“Yes,” you gasp, nodding, eyelids fluttering closed, “I want it, I want it—”

“Good,” he coos, pinching your nipples harder, “I want it too. Wanna see you fall apart in my hands. Will you let me do that for you, sweetheart?”

“Yes.”

He releases your tits and tugs at the waistband of your pants, “Take these off for me, will you?”

You roll off the couch onto your feet, facing him as you slowly tug at your waistband, teasing every inch of skin you reveal. He watches you with lust-blown eyes, palming himself as he drinks in the spectacle.

“Underwear too?”

He nods.

You hook your thumbs under the soft fabric of your bikini, “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“I wanna see it.”

“You wanna see it,” he mutters, chuckling a little, “Ask and you shall receive, Princess.”

He shimmies out of his pajama pants, keeping his eyes on yours as you slide the underwear down your thighs. His thick, hard cock bobs out and waves hello.

“Fuck,” he sits up and rests his warm palms on your hips, glancing between you and your cunt, “Look at this pretty pussy, holy shit. Come here, baby. Come sit on my lap again.”

“If I sit on your lap, will my Christmas wish come true?”

“Maybe,” he smirks and leans back onto the sofa, tugging on your hand to follow. You turn around and carefully lower yourself onto his thighs, his knees between yours. Guiding you closer, he murmurs in your ear, “Tell me what you want, sweetheart, I’ll see if I can make it happen.”

You lay back on his chest, once again letting your head rest on his shoulder, and stroke his cheek as you tell him, “I want you to touch me.”

“I can do that,” he chuckles, kissing your forehead as his hands begin to wander, sliding down your sides to your hips and thighs, between your legs to pry them apart, “There we go, baby.”

When he touches your entrance, you both groan. His cock twitches against your back. He drags his fingers up and down your seam, spreading your slick, hissing in your ear, “Fucking soaked for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“Uh-huh,” you whimper, nodding, watching him pet your swollen clit so soft and slow it sends sparks of need up your spine, “That feels so fucking good holy shit—”

“Yeah? You like the way I play with your sweet little cunt?”

“Oh my god—I do, Dieter, I do.”

A feral noise rumbles in his chest, and his fingers pick up speed, working in quick, tight circles as he pants in your ear, “I love it when you say my name. Sounds so fucking good on your lips. Say it again for me, baby.”

“I love the way you touch me, Dieter, please don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t fucking dream of it, sweetheart. I just wanna make you feel good, make you feel so fucking good—”

You moan when he sinks one thick digit inside you, making your body buzz with pleasure. Your eyes flutter shut and you reach back, blindly carding your fingers through his hair, caressing his cheek, his neck, tugging on his earlobe, anything you can do to ground yourself and somehow repay the ecstasy accumulating thick and hot inside your belly.

He kisses your palm and asks, “Do you want more?”

A sort of strangled noise comes out of you, but you nod in the affirmative, and he obliges, sliding another finger inside you. They rut in and out at a steady pace, keeping tempo with his undulating touch on your clit. Heat branches out at the center of you, coursing through your veins, making your heart race.

You gasp and nod, “Keep doing that, Dieter, don’t stop please don’t stop holy shit—”

“You gonna cum for me, baby, hmm? Cum all over my fucking fingers?”

“Yes yes yes yes yes—”

Your whole body clenches as the feeling grows and grows, reaching a precipice.

“That’s it, sweetheart, let it go,” he pants in your ear, and when you plummet over the edge, whole body twitching with blinding pleasure, he coos, “Theeere we go—”

You whimper and clamp your legs shut, letting out a series of gasping breaths as the waves of your orgasm pulse, then start to peter out. Your tensed muscles go limp, and you open your eyes to look up at Dieter, “Jesus Christ.”

“Yeah?”

He gives you a boyish grin that makes your chest swell with desire. You sit up and turn around to face him, straddling his lap with his cock pressed hard against your wet, throbbing pussy.

Tracing the curve of his lips, you purr, “I have another Christmas wish.”

“What’s that?”

You roll your hips, gasping at the pressure of him against you, “I want you to fuck me.”

He moans, eyelids fluttering and lips parting, head falling back against the sofa as he grabs your hips and silently urges you to keep going. You whimper and start to move to the rhythm of his suggestion, sliding up and down his length.

“Wanna feel your cock inside me,” you breathe, brushing his cheek with your knuckles, meeting his dark, wanting eyes, “Want you to stretch me out and make me yours—”

“Holy fucking shit—”

“Do you want that?” you coo, searching his face.

“God yes, please, baby.”

You situate the tip of him at your entrance and hook your hands behind his head, then lower yourself down.

The stretch of him is exquisite. He activates every nerve ending he touches with an aching, hungry need. Your mouth falls open with gasping breaths and pathetic little whimpers, and you hear Dieter groan, “So fucking tight, Jesus Christ—”

“Feels so goooood,” you croak, closing your fists in his hair.

He sucks in air through clenched teeth, digging his fingers into the meat of your ass, and rocks you back and forth, each thrust rubbing along something absolutely devastating. You blink your eyes open to meet his, all lust-blown and wide with awe, searching your face. His hand slides up to your face, cupping your cheek, brushing his thumb against your heated, damp skin.

“Kiss me,” he pants, reeling you in.

You fold over on top of him, meeting his lips with desperate urgency, a frantic exchange of messy kisses marked with gasps and moans. As the heat in your belly grows, you roll your hips faster, and he thrusts up into you, parting from your lips to growl, “You take my dick so well, sweetheart—that sweet pussy feels so fucking good wrapped around me, oh my fucking god—”

“Feels so fucking good, Dieter, don’t fucking stop,” you whimper, pressing your forehead against his, nodding in approval as he grabs your hips and fucks up into you hard and fast, “Oh my god, just like that baby yes yes yes—”

He captures your lips in his and you both moan into the heated, needy kiss, static building and building, spreading hot from your center. It feels so fucking good your eyes start to tingle and swim with tears, and you cry, “I’m gonna fucking cum, don’t stop—”

“That’s it baby, just let go, let it go, let me feel you—”

“So fucking good—Ffffuck—”

The force of your climax steals your breath, ecstasy pulsing liquid static through you, then yanks you down from the clouds and sends you crashing into the earth. Your body convulses and you let out a choked sob.

“Oh my god—oh my god, fuck,” his hips stutter and he pulls out, stroking his cock to completion, shooting hot ropes of cum onto your bodies with a moan.

Both of you remain rigid for a few moments, chests heaving, silently reveling the sweet rush of release before going slack. You collapse on top of him, eyes closed, and release a content sigh as you play with the damp curls at the nape of his neck.

He hums and wraps his arms around your middle, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, “How do you feel?”

“Amazing,” you chuckle, “Wow.”

“Wow is right,” he snorts, then pets your hair and asks, “Any other Christmas wishes?”

After thinking about it for a few seconds, your lips part with an answer, but you chicken out and close them.

“Hmm?”

“It’s dumb.”

“Uh-huh,” he pulls back to meet your eyes, “Tell me anyway.”

You chuckle a little, tracing his jawline, “It’s ok.”

He just blinks at you, waiting, so you swallow and shrug, “I don’t want to sleep alone.”

He hums, pressing a kiss into your forehead, then your cheek, “Do you wanna spend the night with me?”

“Is that weird?”

“I don’t think so. Do you?”

You shake your head.

His gaze drops to your mouth, and you lean in to kiss him. It’s warm and soft and sparks hopeful optimism in your chest, like this is something and not nothing.

When he pulls back, a sly smile spreads across his face, “Your place or mine?”

—

MONDAY, DECEMBER 25TH, 8:00AM

When you wake in Suite 203, it takes a moment for the events of the previous night to catch up to you.

The power going out, the candlelit dinner, the palm reading, the best fucking sex you’ve had in your life.

Was it a dream? Did that actually fucking happen?

But when you hear rustling from the other side of the bed, and feel an arm slip around your waist, pulling you back into his chest, reality punches you in the gut.

You stay still and wait for Dieter’s breath to fall back into a pattern of soft snoring, then slip out of bed and take a shower. With the power still out and the blizzard still raging outside, it takes a bit of guesswork to navigate the process in the dim bathroom, but you emerge successful.

When you tiptoe back into the bedroom, Dieter is still sleeping. You get dressed and go downstairs to make some coffee and think about your decisions.

For an hour or so, you pace around the kitchen island, ruminating over the things he said to you, the things you said to him, the way he made you feel, and the reality of your position in life versus his.

What felt good and right last night takes a different appearance in the harsh light of day. He could hurt you in so many ways if he wanted to. He could get you fired. He could be using you. He probably doesn’t actually care about you, he was just bored and horny and you were wrong this isn’t something, it’s nothing and you’re no one—

“Hey.”

You freeze and look up at Dieter, standing by the fridge in a soft chartreuse bathrobe.

“Hey,” you flash a nervous smile and wave, “How’d you sleep? Can I get you some coffee, anything to eat?”

He frowns, squinting at you, “Why’re you doing that?”

“Doing what?”

For a few seconds, he just stares at you, letting tension twist your guts to shreds, then he drops his gaze to the floor and nods, “Ok. Ok sure.”

Your whole body turns to cement. Cold and heavy and unmoving.

He walks over to the French press and pours a cup of coffee, “So… you’re having some regrets, and you’re gonna go back to this now? Miss hospitality?”

You swallow down a feeling like fire, avoiding eye contact as your vision blurs with tears, “I don’t know, I’m just… I’m just kind of freaking out, I guess?”

“What’re you freaking out about?”

“I guess it’s just that you were right,” you shrug, wiping at your eyes, “You know, with your palm reading. I get attached easily and, I don’t know… I don’t wanna scare you away because, umm… yeah.”

When he doesn’t say anything, you glance up at him, finding a warm smile on his face. Surprised at the expression, you sniffle, “What?”

He approaches you, still smiling, “Because you like me?”

Heat rises to your face. You hold his gaze, watching him lean back on the counter beside you, and you mumble, “Maybe.”

His smile grows wider, digging out dimples in his cheeks, “Yeah? Maybe a little bit?”

You shrug.

“And you think that’s gonna freak me out?”

Again, you shrug.

“Come here, sweetheart,” he murmurs, tugging on your hand. A fresh wave of tears floods your eyes when he wraps his arms around you, stroking your back as he assures you, “I like you too.”

“You do?”

“Cross my heart.”

“You’re not gonna get me fired and ruin my life?”

“What? No—I mean, I hope not. Unless your boss somehow finds out you got dicked down in the library—”

You laugh through the tears, “Oh my god, that would be a fucking nightmare.”

He chuckles, pulling back to look at you. You hook your hands behind his head, and the two of you stare at each other for a few seconds, humor fading from your faces, then you whisper, “This is… this is something, though, right? I’m not crazy?”

“I think it’s something,” his eyes flit around your face, and he shrugs, “You know, I’m a lot like you. I, umm… I tend to keep people at a distance, because I fall easy and hard and yeah… it’s scary. But, I don’t know. I have a good feeling about you.”

You nod, glancing down at his mouth, “Intuition?”

“Yeah,” he smirks, leaning in closer. His lips press against yours, giving you a slow, tender kiss that blossoms in your heart.

When you pull back, he tells you, “I do have one immediate problem, though.”

“What?”

“I don’t know how to ask you to make me breakfast without sounding like an asshole.”

“Like that’s ever stopped you before.”

“Wow. That’s it, I’m docking a star from my review.”

“Uh-huh,” you grin, running your fingers through his messy hair, “I cannot imagine what your review of this place would be.”

He takes a deep breath, then puts on an infomercial voice and says, “Four out of five stars. Gorgeous building, the food is amazing. Truly unique place. One of the employees let me eat her pussy for breakfast—”

You snort with laughter.

“—could not recommend enough. Deducted a star because she said I was an asshole.”

“Lovely, but you did not eat my pussy for breakfast. I’m sure I would’ve remembered that.”

“Not yet I didn’t,” he waggles his eyebrows at you, sneaking a few kisses as he herds you backwards onto the kitchen counter.

—

MONDAY, DECEMBER 25TH, 6:00PM

After breakfast—real breakfast, not oral sex in the kitchen, which was a treat in itself—Dieter went up to Suite 302 to finish the painting he wasn’t able to finish yesterday.

On paper, you had a very busy day. Your daily checklist gives you credit for every single item and some extras.

In reality, you cleaned up the messes made yesterday, which mostly involved washing dishes and following a wiki-how on getting cum out of velvet, and put together a charcuterie board for whenever dinner would happen.

With the remaining daylight hours, you laid on the chaise in the parlor, then the bed in Suite 203, and flipped through books of poems, and successfully resisted your many urges to disrupt Dieter’s work.

The snow stopped overnight, but the blizzard continued to howl all day. Strong gusts whirled the freshly-fallen snow through the air like some kid shaking up a snow globe. But when sunlight started to fade, so did the wind. Everything settled in its place, and the thick blanket of white finally became distinguishable from the nighttime sky.

Inside Blue Moon Manor, Dieter completed his painting, then crawled into bed with you. Apparently it had been just as difficult for him not to disrupt his own work.

He said he thought about you all day. He said he wanted to say fuck it and put the painting on pause to spend time with you, but felt he needed to finish it. He wanted to show it to you after dinner.

Naturally, your nerves have been buzzing since.

You insisted on an earlier dinner, blaming the lack of a lunchtime meal, but the look on his face when you made the argument made it clear he could see right through you. He didn’t mind, though. He helped you pour out glasses of wine to pair with the charcuterie board, then the two of you set everything up beside the fireplace in the parlor and fucking demolished it.

Afterwards, you washed the dishes while he smoked pot by the window. You didn’t even care if your boss smelled it anymore. It seemed trivial.

As Dieter tucks away his onie-box in his pocket, you recount the thought to him. He hops down off the counter and scoffs, “I mean really, what would he do? Fire you?”

“I don’t think he even can. There are three people that work here, and I am by far the most reliable.”

“I believe it,” he takes your hand, leading you from the kitchen to the dining room, “Tell you what, if my smoking gets you fired, you get to stay here with me and make his life hell.”

You laugh at this, shaking your head, “Yeah, ok.”

He turns around, “What, you don’t believe me?”

“No, I believe you. I just think it’s the kind of bet someone knows they’ll win.”

“And winning in this case would be, what? You keep working this dead-end job while I drive myself crazy thinking about you?”

“Hey—it’s a good job,” you release his hand and cross your arms in front of your body.

“No, that’s not—” he sighs, glancing around as he shifts his weight from side-to-side, “It’s a fine job, I just mean… I don’t know what I mean. I mean I wouldn’t mind it, you staying with me. That’s all.”

Searching his face, you deadpan, “That’s so romantic.”

“God, I can’t wait for you to see this,” he chuckles, then takes your hand and pulls you along, “Come on.”

You follow him through the dining room into the dark hallway, where you pause to turn on your headlamps, then climb the service stairs to the third floor, coming to a stop in front of Suite 302.

“Alright, lights out,” he clicks the off button on both your headlamps and leads you through the doorway, then the pitch black room.

“Ok, it’s probably gonna look weird in the lighting, but,” he turns your headlamps on, and you gasp.

The canvas shows a sunroom with windows of blinding white light. Suite 203. And there you are, staring out the window, shadows falling over your face.

“Dieter—”

From behind you, he slips his hands around your waist and kisses your cheek, then tells you, “I was taking pictures, you know, on the tour you gave me. And… I don’t know, I saw you there and took a picture because you just looked so…”

“Sad? Lonely?”

“Kind of. More like a, uhh… a palpable kind of longing. Sorrow and isolation. Like you’re looking for something or someone, but you don’t know what.”

You reach back and cup his cheek, brushing your thumb against his patchy facial hair.

“I wanted to capture that because it is… exactly how I’ve been feeling for years. Just so fucking lost and alone.”

Butterflies flutter around in your stomach, and you whisper, “You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

“Neither do you,” he murmurs, “Better yet, people all over the country will see you and know they’re not alone, either.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod, your light bouncing around the canvas, then say, “It’s fucking beautiful, Dieter. What’s it called?”

“Once in a Blue Moon.”

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