There should be a rule—no waking up on a Monday morning with the memory of a drunken confession to your terrifyingly attractive boss.
Rozenn groaned into her pillow, the rays of daylight poking rudely through her curtains. "I can't go to work," she mumbled.
"You have to," Tammy's voice called out from the kitchen, annoyingly chipper. "You're a responsible adult. A corporate woman. A taxpayer."
"A taxpayer who called her boss on Friday night and told him she wanted to put him in her bag and hide him from the world," Rozenn shot back, dragging herself out of bed like a war victim.
Tammy appeared at the door, holding a steaming mug of tea and looking completely unfazed by the chaos she had partially caused. "You were drunk. And honestly, he probably found it cute."
Rozenn gave her a look. "Tammy. I told him to smile more and stop scaring people. That man runs on fear. It's his whole thing!"
Tammy grinned wickedly. "Well, maybe you broke him. Emotionally. Spiritually. With your unsolicited therapy."
Rozenn groaned again, this time more dramatically, dragging a pillow over her head. "I can't face him. What if he stares at me with those deadpan eyes and whispers 'You called me handsome, Miss Eirwen' in that cold CEO voice?"
"Oh, I'd frame that moment. I'd record it and use it as my ringtone."
With the enthusiasm of someone being marched to the guillotine, Rozenn got ready, dressed, and left their apartment with Tammy's relentless cackling still echoing in her ears. The elevator ride to the 19th floor felt like a funeral procession. Each ding of the passing floors mocked her.
When she reached their department's floor, the hallway felt too bright, too quiet—as if the walls themselves were waiting to gossip.
She greeted Trisha at the reception desk with a feeble "Good morning," hoping to sprint through unnoticed.
No chance.
"Rozenn!" Alan called out the moment she stepped into the main office. "Our drunk dialer has arrived!"
"Oh god." She barely had time to drop her bag before Soren chimed in.
"Tell me—did you really say you wanted to hug his pain away? Because if you did, I think I just ovulated from secondhand embarrassment."
Rozenn covered her face with both hands. "You people are monsters."
"Monsters with good memory," Kim added, sipping her coffee. "Tammy told us everything. Everything."
Rozenn turned, shooting daggers at her best friend who had followed her to her department to collect a file.
Tammy looked innocent. "I was protecting our shared dignity. By sacrificing yours."
Before Rozenn could grab a file and dramatically throw it at her, the office went quiet.
Dead quiet.
She didn't even have to turn around to know who had walked in.
"Good morning," came Mr. Grey's voice—cool, calm, cutting like black coffee. His tailored charcoal suit looked especially sharp today, and his jawline seemed to have gained new power in the light. Everyone replied with an immediate chorus of "Good morning, sir," like obedient schoolchildren.
Rozenn kept her eyes on her desk, cheeks burning like she'd swallowed the sun.
He walked past them without so much as a pause.
She only allowed herself to exhale when his door clicked shut behind him.
"Still alive?" Tammy whispered.
"No," Rozenn said. "I am but a spirit now."
Lunch couldn't come soon enough. They all gathered at the cafeteria, trays loaded with food they pretended to eat while Rozenn's humiliation remained the main course.
"Let's relive the moment," Alan announced as they all sat. "Rozenn, take us back. You've just downed four tequila shots. What do you do?"
"Die," Rozenn replied flatly.
"You reach for your phone," Onda added.
"And you whisper, Mr. Grey, I understand your pain," Lisa said in her best dramatic Rozenn impression.
"I hate you all," Rozenn muttered, cheeks pink again, stabbing a helpless meatball.
Tammy nearly choked on her soda laughing. "No no—my favorite part was when you said, 'I want to hide you in my bag.' Like he's a limited-edition perfume!"
"Or a pet hamster," Alan said.
They all exploded into laughter again. Rozenn was just about to threaten to change her name and move to Bulgaria when a tall shadow loomed beside their table.
Every single person at the table went quiet.
"Miss Eirwen," Mr. Grey said, his voice smooth as polished marble, "see me in my office after lunch."
"Y-yes sir," Rozenn replied, voice suddenly three octaves higher.
As he walked away, the group collectively turned back to her like a courtroom jury.
Tammy grabbed her arm. "Girl. You're in for it!"
Rozenn shook her head, throat dry. "I don't know. I think I might combust."
After lunch, Rozenn ditched the usual coffee ritual and bolted back up to the 19th floor like someone on trial. Her heart was thudding like it was preparing for a marathon. She knocked lightly on Mr. Grey's door.
"Come in."
She opened it slowly. The office, with its floor-to-ceiling windows and quiet ambiance, felt more like a cathedral at the moment.
Mr. Grey stood by the window, hands in his pockets, back to her.
"Have a seat."
She did, carefully, trying not to look like a guilty toddler.
He turned slowly, studying her with unreadable eyes.
"So," he began. "Feeling better since Friday night?"
She swallowed. "Yes, sir."
There was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "You called me at 1:14 a.m. to inform me that I'm… terrifyingly handsome."
Rozenn wanted to disappear. "I was drunk, sir."
"You also said you wanted to… 'tuck me in your bag and carry me home like a secret.'"
She covered her face with her hands. "Please stop."
He stepped closer—close enough that she could smell the soft scent of his cologne. Something smoky, expensive. She dropped her hands to see him watching her with the faintest smile.
"You also told me I should smile more."
"Okay, now you're just torturing me."
He leaned forward slightly, their faces dangerously close. "You think I don't smile enough?"
"I think you scare interns with your jawline," she blurted before her brain could stop her.
There was a pause. And then—he laughed. A short, amused chuckle that cracked through the usual stony demeanor.
She stared, wide-eyed.
"Was that a smile?" she asked softly.
He looked at her. "Don't get used to it."
He walked back to his desk, picked up a small box, and handed it to her. "Share this with your colleagues. I had a friend drop them off this morning."
She blinked at the elegantly tied box. The logo on top read Éclat Sucré—the most exclusive patisserie in the city. A box of cupcakes from there could buy a used car.
"T-thank you, sir."
As she turned to leave, he said, "Miss Eirwen."
She paused.
"You make things… interesting."
——————————————-
She walked out dazed, like someone who had just been knighted and slapped all at once.
Back in the office, her arrival was met with Tammy and the others pouncing like sharks on fresh meat.
"Well???" Lisa demanded. "Spill!"
"Did he say you traumatized him?"
"Did he confess his undying love?"
Rozenn blinked, still trying to get her brain to reboot. "He gave me cupcakes."
Tammy gasped. "Are these—? Wait, Éclat Sucré? Do you know how hard it is to get anything from there?!"
"Wait—he gave his cupcakes to you?" Alan asked, scandalized.
Kim whistled. "Mr. Grey never shares his sugar stash. You've unlocked a new level."
Rozenn didn't answer. She was still dazed, still tasting the closeness of that moment in his office.
Her face turned a shade redder as she bit into a ridiculously perfect cupcake.
This man was going to ruin her.
And all she'd done was get drunk and tell him the truth.