The wine tasted a little sweet and bitter, with a rich, complex finish that lingered on the back of her tongue. The scent was remarkably sweet, almost intoxicating, and as she took another delicate sip, she found herself surprisingly drawn to its smooth flavor.
"No wonder they kept telling me to stay away from this kind of drinks. It's addicting," Cayenne murmured under her breath, tilting her head slightly as she watched the dark red liquid swirl against the crystal walls of her wine glass.
She took a slow, steadying breath and set the glass down on the tray, trying to suppress the growing sense of unease creeping up her spine. Sitting across from her high-powered employer in a sprawling, private penthouse suite was miles outside her comfort zone.
"Sir, why don't you ask someone else to accompany you? Like a man perhaps," she suggested, her voice soft yet firm as she attempted once again to find a respectful exit. "I don't think it's nice for a girl to stay in your room. Aside from that, I still have to work."
She truly had no idea what to do, alone in a quiet room with a powerful, enigmatic man late at night. Every instinct she had developed from years of working grueling hours to support her family urged her to get back to the safety of her official post at the reception desk.
Stefan glanced at her, taking a slow sip from his own glass, completely brushing off her sensible suggestion. "Don't worry, your salary won't be deducted."
"Okay," Cayenne replied quietly.
That single reassurance eased the sharpest edge of her anxiety. Above all else, her primary concern was maintaining her steady income. She couldn't afford to have anyone sabotaging her job—not when her mother's costly medical bills and her younger brothers' school expenses relied entirely on her paycheck. Reassuring herself that this was simply an unusual, temporary assignment, she took another modest sip of the vintage wine, sitting quietly on a sleek leather armchair. She positioned herself at a careful distance—not so far as to appear rude, yet certainly not close enough to invite familiarity.
Stefan observed her over the rim of his glass, intrigued despite himself. "How old are you? You look really young."
"I just turned twenty-three last month, sir," Cayenne answered politely, keeping her posture straight and her tone professional.
"You didn't go to university?"
"No, sir."
Stefan raised a dark eyebrow, a subtle shift in his expression revealing his surprise. Given his position and immense wealth, he was accustomed to people—especially women—trying to curry favor, flatter him, or maneuver their way into his inner circle. Yet as their brief conversation unfolded, Cayenne remained entirely unbothered by his status, maintaining a polite, composed demeanor while firmly keeping her distance.
"Why did you choose to work here by the way?" he asked, genuinely curious about the young woman sitting across from him.
"Because I can work peacefully and the pay is good as well."
Stefan paused, waiting for her to elaborate. "That's all?"
"Hn."
A faint, unexpected chuckle escaped Stefan's lips. He had half-expected her to offer some sugar-coated, overly ambitious statement about her passion for hospitality or her admiration for the hotel brand. Instead, her answer was disarmingly straightforward and entirely honest.
Meanwhile, Cayenne stared down at her hands, which were loosely resting around the stem of her glass. A sudden wave of heaviness washed over her eyelids. Even though she was merely sitting still, she felt a subtle, dizzying spin take hold of the room. A thrumming ache began to pulse behind her temples.
"Sir, can I use your bathroom? I really need to wash my face," she requested, her voice slightly faint.
She desperately wanted to splash cold water on her skin to wake herself up. She assumed her sudden lightheadedness was merely the accumulated exhaustion of her grueling schedule—running from daytime shift to nighttime duties with barely any sleep in between. It never once occurred to her that her complete lack of alcohol tolerance, combined with the potent, high-grade vintage wine, was the actual culprit.
Stefan gestured casually toward the hallway, pointing out the direction of the luxurious ensuite bathroom. Cayenne pushed herself up from the chair, taking a tentative step forward. But before she could take more than two paces, her knees buckled beneath her, and she collapsed, sinking limply onto the plush floor.
Stefan froze, his eyes widening slightly as he stared at her unmoving form. "She can't hold that much liquor, but she stayed," he murmured softly to himself.
Setting his glass down on the side table, he walked over to where she lay. Reaching down, he effortlessly lifted her into his arms. Her weight was surprisingly light—a testament to how hard she worked and how little she rested. He carried her over to the king-sized bed in the center of the suite and laid her down gently against the crisp white sheets.
Standing beside the mattress, he looked down at her face. Without the guarded, anxious expression she had worn earlier, her features seemed strikingly serene under the muted warm lights of the room.
"She actually looks pretty," he noted silently, taking in the soft contours of her face. Her delicate, straight nose balanced her small frame perfectly, and her thick, long eyelashes formed soft, curved shadows across her cheeks as she rested in deep, uninterrupted slumber.
Stefan turned away, leaving her to sleep peacefully while he retrieved his glass and stepped toward the massive floor-to-ceiling windows. He stood there for a long time, sipping his drink in silence as he overlooked the sprawling, glittering lights of the city far below.
"Why did I ask her to accompany me again?" he pondered aloud, genuinely unable to pinpoint the exact impulse that had made him tell her to stay.
As the quiet hours dragged on, Stefan found himself facing his familiar, stubborn enemy: insomnia. Even after consuming several glasses of fine wine, he remained completely wide awake, his hyperactive mind refusing to settle down. He tried playing various games on his phone, tried counting endless imaginary sheep, and even ran complex mental calculations in his head to tire his brain—yet his energy remained stubbornly undrained.
He glanced over his shoulder at the bed. "Isn't she going to wake up?" he mumbled to the empty room.
He briefly considered calling front-desk management to have someone escort her home safely, but he quickly dismissed the thought. He was the one who had insisted she stay, and he was the one who had offered her the wine that knocked her out; handing her off to hotel staff while she was unconscious felt unnecessarily cold and potential cause for awkward gossip.
Besides, a strange realization settled in his chest. Throughout his life, he had dated various women, yet he had never shared his private sleeping space with any of them. 'Come to think of it, I dated women before, but I never slept with them. She is actually the first one to sleep in my bed.'
A sudden, playful idea popped into his head. He knew with certainty that Cayenne was entirely different from the shallow, opportunistic women he had encountered in his social circles. That sharp contrast made him want to tease her just a little—to see how flustered she would get when she realized where she was.
Moving quietly, he climbed onto the vast bed and lay down on the opposite side of the thick mattress, pulling a portion of the heavy blanket over himself. It was meant to be nothing more than a harmless, mischievous prank for the morning.
If he had known that he would instantly become addicted to her soft, comforting warmth, he would have never done such a thing.
The moment he settled beside her, the relentless noise in his mind vanished. The crushing weight of his long-standing insomnia dissolved in an instant. Instead of merely teasing her, Stefan drifted off into the deepest, most peaceful, and entirely dreamless sleep he had experienced in fifteen long years.
As the first faint light of dawn began to peek through the heavy curtains, Cayenne was the first to wake up. Her head throbbed with a dull, persistent ache, her mind hazy as she slowly emerged from sleep. She blinked against the ambient light, her focus taking a few long seconds to adjust.
When her vision finally cleared, horror seized her. Her heart leaped into her throat, and she froze, paralyzed to her very core.
She was lying squarely on a massive luxury bed, wrapped under a warm blanket—and she was directly in Stefan's arms. His strong arm was draped securely over her waist, pulling her close against his side while he slept peacefully beside her.
Cayenne forcefully swallowed the loud scream that threatened to burst from her throat. Panic surged through her veins, but she forced herself to keep her breathing steady. Carefully, inch by agonizing inch, she reached down to grasp his wrist, attempting to lift his heavy arm away from her body without waking him up.
'Lord, please don't let him think anything improper about this. Please let him sleep for a little while more. Please let me escape from this place unharmed. I really can't afford to lose my job,' she pleaded desperately in her mind, her eyes darting nervously to his closed eyelids with every microscopic movement she made.
Inch by painstaking inch, she shifted her body backward, trying to create distance between them. She squirmed farther and farther away, entirely focused on escaping his grasp—unaware that she was rapidly running out of room on the edge of the large mattress.
THUMP!
Her balance gave out completely, and she tumbled off the side of the bed, landing squarely on her rear on the floor.
'Thank God! It's carpeted,' she thought instantly, closing her eyes in immense relief. She reached around to soothe her sore hip, which still stung despite the thick padding of the rug.
Sitting on the floor, she quickly conducted a panicked self-assessment. Her uniform was completely intact, her clothes were untouched, and aside from the slight soreness from her sudden fall, she felt entirely fine.
'Thank you for keeping me safe, Lord. I truly thought it was the end of me last night,' she whispered silently in profound gratitude.
Stealthily rising to her feet, she cast one final, anxious glance at her sleeping boss. After satisfying herself that he was still sound asleep and completely undisturbed by her clumsy exit, she turned on her heel and practically sprinted toward the suite's front door. She exited into the corridor, slipped silently into the nearest service restroom to quickly straighten her hair and tidy her uniform, and then rushed down to the ground floor to resume her duties. She still had one full hour left before her shift officially ended.
Back in the penthouse suite, the moment the heavy entrance door had clicked shut, Stefan opened his eyes. A broad, unstoppable smile spread across his face, and he let out a low, breathless laugh into the quiet room.
He had actually been awake the exact moment Cayenne first touched his wrist to lift his arm away. However, to spare her from complete embarrassment—and to observe her adorable, panicked escape—he had carefully maintained his deep, rhythmic breathing and pretended to stay fast asleep. He had taken everything in, suppressing his amusement when she accidentally rolled right off the edge of the bed.
"I found a very interesting medicine," Stefan murmured, sitting up slowly and stretching his arms over his head. For the first time in years, he felt entirely refreshed, sharp, and full of vitality.
A thoughtful look settled in his eyes as he looked over at the empty space beside him. "What should I do to sleep with her again?"
What had started as a simple, spontaneous plan to tease an overly serious employee had inadvertently handed him the most precious gift he could have asked for: a way to rest guarded thoughts and sleep peacefully without fear. He didn't care about his vast wealth, nor was he afraid of business rivalries, sudden danger, or betrayal. All he had wanted for years was the simple human ability to sleep peacefully like everyone else—and remarkably, this quiet, hardworking receptionist held the key.
Glancing at the clock on his bedside table, he noted the time: five o'clock in the morning.
"She still has one more hour to work. Let's give her a surprise," he said softly, a subtle gleam of anticipation in his eyes.
He stepped into the bathroom, took a quick, refreshing shower, and dressed in a set of casual yet flawlessly tailored designer clothes. After ensuring everything was in order, he took the private elevator down to the main lobby.
Near the front desk, Cayenne was standing beside Manager Dan, offering a sincere, quiet explanation. Having noticed her absence during the night after delivering the wine, Manager Dan had naturally assumed she had stepped out or abandoned her shift early without notice.
"I'm sorry for putting you in trouble. I didn't expect our boss to ask you to stay," Manager Dan was saying, his tone laced with genuine concern. "But... he didn't do anything to you, right?"
Cayenne raised her head hastily, shaking it vigorously from side to side to clear any lingering suspicion. "Nothing happened at all, Manager Dan! I assure you!"
"I see. That's a relief," Manager Dan sighed softly, giving her a reassuring nod. "You can go back to work. Don't worry, I am the only one who knows where you stayed last night."
"Thank you, Manager Dan," she replied, bowing her head in sincere gratitude.
She turned around to head back to her assigned station, only to freeze mid-step. Walking directly across the polished marble floor toward the reception desk was Stefan himself.
Cayenne felt her heart jump into her throat. She quickly tried to soothe her frazzled nerves, convincing herself that he was simply passing through the lobby on his way out. But to her utter dismay, Stefan walked straight up to her station and stopped directly in front of her.
Panicking internally, Cayenne forced a professional, pleasant expression onto her face, offering a polite bow. "Good morning, sir. Is there anything that I can help you with?"
Stefan didn't utter a single word. Instead, he reached out, caught her hand, and gently placed a small object into her open palm. Without offering a single word of explanation, he turned around and casually strolled toward the lobby lounge to grab his morning coffee.
Manager Dan and her colleague Mona stared in wide-eyed shock at the interaction. The moment Stefan was safely out of earshot, Mona rushed over, pointing at Cayenne's hand.
"Why did boss have your name tag?" Mona asked, her eyes wide with curiosity.
Cayenne looked down at her open palm, staring at the familiar silver nameplate she hadn't even realized was missing. Her heart hammered against her chest as she quickly came up with an answer.
"I dropped it earlier and couldn't find it," Cayenne explained smoothly, keeping her voice soft and steady. "I told Manager Dan about it earlier, and it seems the boss happened to find it on his way out."
"Ah, I see! You're lucky he picked it up for you," Mona giggled, entirely convinced.
Cayenne let out a quiet, slow breath, pinning the nameplate back onto her uniform. She had genuinely feared the absolute worst when he approached her, terrified that her job was on the line or that a scene would be made.
'Looks like the boss is still decent and conscientious after all,' she thought to herself with a small sense of relief, entirely unaware that her quiet life was about to become far more complicated.