One evening, Lukas found himself nursing a drink after a particularly grueling meeting with a group of businessmen. The air was thick with forced laughter and the clinking of glasses, but he felt out of place among them. They were all too eager to discuss their daughters, their ambitions, and the prospect of marrying them off to someone like him.
"Lukas, you'd make a fine match for my daughter," one of them had said, a smirk plastered across his face. "She's got a lovely face, and she's popular in the acting industry."
Lukas forced a smile, his discomfort growing with each passing moment. He wanted nothing more than to escape the conversation. But his damn secretary, Gian, had left him alone, caught up in some "important" task that he had no patience for.
As the chatter continued, he took a long sip of his drink, the alcohol burning down his throat, a temporary balm for his irritation. He glanced around the room, searching for an exit, but the walls felt like they were closing in.
Meanwhile, Gian Mendez was inside the room next to where hi boss was. He had lied to his boss about having something important to do, but the truth was, he had no intention of sticking around to witness Lukas' growing frustration. The atmosphere in the company had been tense for days, and everyone was walking on eggshells around him.
He had seen the change in Lukas—his mood swings, the way he snapped at the slightest provocation. It was clear something was bothering him, and Gian had a hunch it had to do with Stella. Since Stella stopped coming to the company to deliver lunch to boss. He pulled out his phone and dialed Stella's number, hoping she would be receptive.
"Miss Stella?" he said when she answered.
"Yes?" she replied, her voice curious.
"Can you pick up the boss at the Regal Crest?" he asked.
"Huh? Why me? I—"
Gian quickly cut her off, urgency creeping into his tone. "I'm sorry, Miss, but I had something important to do and left him alone there with the other businessmen. I'm afraid he's already drunk. Thank you, Miss."
"Wai—!"
Before she could protest further, he ended the call, a silent prayer escaping his lips. He hoped that the two of them would finally kiss and make up. He was stressed and overworked as it was, and the tension between Lukas and Stella was only adding to his burden.
He leaned against the wall, crossing his fingers that this would be the moment they needed to resolve whatever was keeping them apart.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
I stared at the phone in my hand, still processing Gian's sudden call. I had just returned from a company hangout, and now I was being summoned to rescue Lukas from a situation that could only end badly. What kind of secretary leaves his boss alone to drink with businessmen that may likely also be his competitors? I shook my head in frustration, snatching my car keys from the table and driving to the address Gian had sent me.
When I arrived at the venue, I handed my keys to the valet. "I'll be quick, so have my car ready in ten minutes," I instructed, urgency lacing my voice.
As I approached the entrance, a guard stepped in my way, his expression stern. "Only VIPs are allowed to enter. Show me your VIP card, please."
"I don't have one," I replied, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. Damn Gian for not mentioning this little detail.
The guard sighed, his demeanor softening slightly. "State your name, and let me see if you're on the guest list."
"Stella Marquez," I said, crossing my fingers that Gian had done his job.
The guard typed my name into his tablet, and his eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, sorry about that! It seems you're also one of the VIP members here!"
I raised an eyebrow, skepticism creeping in. "How come?"
"It says here that Sir Monteverde signed you up three months ago. It seems he forgot to bring your VIP card. Just go to the reception and ask for your card, Miss. I'm sorry for not recognizing you," he said, bowing slightly.
"There's no need to apologize. Even I didn't know I was a member here," I replied calmly as I walked past him and headed toward the reception desk to get my card.
After retrieving my VIP card, I navigated through the venue, my heart racing as I searched for the room where Lukas was. Just as I turned a corner, I spotted him stumbling out, his posture unsteady and his expression clouded.
I rushed toward him, instinctively reaching out to support him, but he smacked my hand away with surprising force.
I was stunned. "Lukas?"
He turned to me, his gaze icy. "It's Mister Monteverde for you. Don't touch me carelessly." With that, he began to walk away, his steps wavering.
I blinked in disbelief, watching him stagger. Without thinking, I sprinted after him, catching him just in time as he nearly fell. I swung his arm over my shoulder, trying to steady him.
He glared at me, attempting to push me away. "It's you again. You're not allowed to touch me so... Shoo."
I was taken aback, my mouth agape as he tried to shoo me away like I was some pesky insect. What was wrong with him? Was he pretending not to know me, or was he just too drunk to recognize me? Either way, I brushed aside his insults, focusing on getting him out of there.
As we waited for my car, he continued to mumble incoherently, and I froze when I caught a fragment of his words. "How dare you touch me... I swear I'll find you and let you go to jail for harassing me... Only Stella can touch me."
When my car finally pulled up, I was taken aback to see Gian behind the wheel.
"Get in," he said, his tone authoritative as if he owned my vehicle.
"How did you—never mind," I replied, shaking my head. I helped Lukas into the back seat first, then slid in beside him, trying to ignore the tension radiating from his body.
"If you're wondering how I'm here, it's because I finished handling my matter," Gian explained, glancing at me in the rearview mirror.
Lukas tilted his head, his expression darkening as he glared at Gian. "You teamed up with this woman? You're fired once I see you tomorrow."
Gian gulped, clearly taken aback. "B-But sir, she's your wi—" He hesitated, the realization hitting him that we weren't even married yet. "She's Miss Stella," he corrected, pointing at me as if that would somehow save him.
"Stella?" Lukas' voice cut through the car's atmosphere, his gaze fixed on me with a mix of confusion and disdain. "Stella won't dress like that."
I glanced down at my outfit—a red mini dress that my coworkers had insisted I wear after my office clothes got soaked from the beer at the company hangout. It was bold and far from my usual style, but I had little choice in the matter.
I sighed, choosing to ignore his comment. But I quickly realized that ignoring him was a mistake. The entire trip was turning into a test of my patience. Gian, kept muttering under his breath, "I helped him, and this is what I get?" while Lukas continued to eye me with a mix of annoyance and something else I couldn't quite place. "Pervert. Molester. Degenerate. Opportunist. Parasite," he muttered, each word dripping with disdain.
I just sighed and ignored him. But I was wrong. The whole trip was annoying. Gian kept muttering, "I helped him and this is what I get?" while Lukas kept eyeing me. "Pervert. Molester. Degenerate.Opportunist. Parasite."
I finally snapped, unable to take it anymore. I leaned closer to him. "One more word, and I'll kiss you on the lips."
Lukas glared at me but then his head dropped, resting against my shoulder. I sighed, adjusting his head to make him more comfortable, but not a minute later, it fell back against mine again. I had no choice but to let it be.
Once we arrived home, Gian struggled to carry Lukas' dead weight inside, the CEO's limp form swaying precariously before being deposited onto the living room sofa with a huff.
"I owe you one," I told Gian gratefully, but he seized my sleeve before leaving, eyes wide with panic.
"Please talk him out of firing me!" Gian pleaded, voice pitched high with desperation. "You know how he gets when he's like this—"
"He doesn't mean it," I reassured, gently prying his fingers loose. "Go home, Gian. Get some rest." With that, I nudged him out the door before he could protest further.
I exhaled deeply and moved to the kitchen. The chopping of scallions filled the house as I prepared hangover soup—the rich aroma of ox bone broth soon mingling with ginger and garlic. He likely hadn't eaten dinner, and tomorrow's headache would be brutal without this remedy.
While the soup simmered, I returned to the living room. Lukas lay exactly as Gian had left him, one arm slung over his eyes, his dress shirt rumpled and tie askew. Kneeling beside the sofa, I carefully removed his polished leather shoes, then loosened the silk tie knot at his throat. His breath hitched slightly when my fingers brushed his collar, but he didn't stir.
Methodically, I worked his arms free from his suit jacket, the fine wool sliding off his shoulders. As I draped it over the armchair, a low groan came from the sofa.
"...Stella?" His voice was rough with sleep, barely audible.
I paused, hand hovering mid-air. Waiting but his breathing evened out again.