"Oh, you're here… Nothing. I met the boss of the bosses."
"Gambino's?"
"Pff! Maybe!" I laughed, the sound a little breathless. "I met the CEO."
"Oh. The—P-Cough!! Huck— Ack! Cough!! The CEO?!"
"Yeah. Xavier Oslic. Actually, I wanted to ask you— Uh, are you alright? You look like a tomato."
"Cough! Ahem. Forget that," Ben barely managed to say, wiping his mouth as he tried to recover. "So… wait, wait, wait. Let me get this straight. When you say you met him, do you mean it as in… you spoke with him?"
Taking the seat right across from mine, Ben tried to reboot his mind, asking me something that should have been obvious.
"Uh, yeah. I said I met him, not just saw him."
Ben stared at me for a long beat. "Alright. Layna, I'm going to ask you to slooowly walk me through it, okay? Because I'm having trouble understanding how this even happened."
"What do you mean?"
"Yeah, what do you mean? What are you guys gossiping about?"
"Huh? Didn't you say you were on a diet?" I asked, looking up as Patricia approached. "Why are you here?"
"I'll still use my lunch break. I wanted to leave the office but not the building today," Patricia said, taking the seat next to Ben and placing her bottle of water and a single, lonely apple on the table. "So? What were you talking about?"
"Layna spoke to the CEO."
Patricia froze. "How? Why?"
"What the hell? You guys are scaring me now." The wide eyes of Patricia made me nervous, even though I was the one who had experienced it. I had been sure it wasn't a bad meeting, until they made me doubt myself.
"Well, he's quite… let's call it random. Tell us how it was. Then we will say more," Ben said, leaning forward, his eyes gleaming with the hunger for gossip. Patricia's brow lifted in a reticent arch, though she was doing a poor job of feigning disinterest.
I squinted at them, feeling confused and a bit too lazy to recount the whole thing, given how troublesome it already felt.
"Haaaa… I shouldn't have said anything."
"You already did, so spill it," Patricia insisted.
"Yeah, we want the tea," Ben added, nodding eagerly.
Taking a deep breath, I realised I couldn't argue with Patricia's logic or Ben's anticipation. I'm to blame here. Admitting my lack of foresight, I decided to spill the beans to get it over with.
"Okay. So, simply put, I ran into him at the elevator and…"
***
The girl looked just like him—the same eyes, the same tilt of the head—but obviously, she wasn't Connor.
Burry. He never told me his surname, the elusive b*stard. Could they be related? Siblings, maybe?
It had been more than a month since I last met him. I'd even gone to the bar on other weekdays to try my luck, but he never showed up. It was starting to p*ss me off.
A bit more and I'll even ask her if she has a sibling called Connor. I let out a dark laugh at the thought, feeling so bothered that the last bit of my frustration slipped out loud. "What the hell's wrong with me?"
"Pardon, Sir? I think I did not understand—"
"It's nothing," I told Eva, the secretary my Grandfather had assigned me out of spite. "What time's the meeting?"
"In half an hour, Sir. The restaurant is not far from here; we should be able to make it in time."
"Make the car arrive late," I commanded, leaning back into the plush leather seat. "If they get a bad impression, all the better."
"The Chairman will not allow that, Sir."
"And I told him I wouldn't agree this time either. Tell the driver to take a detour and find the busiest roads."
Eva remained silent for a moment, her lips pressed into a thin line.
"It's not a request. Do it."
"Yes, immediately Sir." She finally agreed, though it was obvious she'd also inform my Grandfather—the Chairman she idolised and who had arranged this d*rn meeting.
The fact that I'm gay has him searching for a wife who will maintain the facade he wants me to play, especially since I'll be taking charge of the whole family business. But even if he sends a thousand brides, I'll reject every single one he sends my way. The mere issue is a bother, but I also agree that we should keep it a secret.
Having a private life separate from my work life is better for my preferences, but lately, even that feels dull. It bothers me more now that I've met that new employee. She made me recall how I've not seen him in so long. D*mn it. I even told him straight to his face that I want to f*ck him. I swear it's all Connor's fault I'm like this.
The guy had appeared one day out of nowhere at the bar I run, a venture kept entirely unbeknownst to my family. It was the one place I could safely go without the suffocating fear of being recognised.
Maintaining a decent sexual life is the absolute bare minimum I deserve after enduring the soul-crushing stress of the office, not to mention the constant, suffocating pressure from my family. Fortunately, finding a warm body for the night is rarely a challenge; most of us in this circle are simply looking for a good time without the messy complications of commitment.
It was obvious from the moment he stepped inside that he was new to the scene. Even the way he dressed set him apart from the usual crowd. He looked far too young to be frequenting a place with such a refined, mature ambience as my bar, the Glass of Prism. He wore baggy clothes that seemed to swallow his slim, slight frame. He was of average height, perhaps leaning toward the shorter side for a man, but there was something about his presence that snagged my attention.
Darn. He's even cute when I consider how little he seems to care about his messy, unkempt hair.
I had watched him walk in, his eyes scanning the room with a look of total indifference toward the high-end interior design. He headed straight for the bar, claiming my favourite spot. He leaned in with a touch of shyness to order a drink, his shoulders hunched slightly as if trying to take up as little space as possible. At the time, I was already deep in conversation with another man—a sure win for the night—but I wasn't so desperate that I'd settle for the first thing that came along.
The moment I saw the newcomer, I knew I had to have him. I wanted to see that pretty face of his completely come apart under me, raring to go. It's easy enough to discard those I no longer want, so I gave the guy flirting with me a curt goodbye before heading to the bar to charm my new target.
From up close, he looked even better. I've been certain from the start that he likely has a very tight as*hole that would squeeze me incredibly well if I could just get him home.
"Are you on your own?" I asked, my voice smooth as silk, wanting to ensure he wasn't already spoken for. But even if he was, I didn't much care.
F*ck. I really had it bad from the very beginning with this guy. It's ticking me off just realising it!
The mere memory of how easily he turns me on makes me irritable. The way he turned to look at me that first time was electric. Even now, the memory of his serious face and the way he hesitated before answering me is enough to make my blood heat. He was bound to be fun—but the fact that he isn't gay was a bit of a downer.
If not for that, I would have f*cked him properly and forgotten all about him by now.