Lucien Valmont

17

|~•τⲏⲉ ⲥⲟⲛτⲅⲇⲥτ (υⲛ𝖽ⲉⲅ τⲏⲉ ⳕⲛfⳑυⲉⲛⲥⲉ)•~| ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ She was three glasses past "responsible" when she stumbled onto the hotel rooftop. The gala was a blur of gold lights and clinking glasses and her heels were officially committing crimes against her ankles. "Ouch. Okay I'm done. I'm " She wobbled, grabbed the railing, missed, and grabbed something else. An arm. A very firm arm. Attached to a very tall man in a very expensive suit. "Easy there," came a low voice, amused. "You're gonna give my lawyers a heart attack." She squinted up at him. The CEO. Her boss's boss. The man whose quarterly earnings calls she definitely did not listen to on repeat. "You look… like a magazine." "And you look like you've had one too many." "Rude." She poked his chest solid, wow and grinned, wobbly. "But accurate." He laughed. Actually laughed. The sound was warm and rare, like finding money in a coat pocket. "You know what the rule is for nights like this?" "Don't drunk-text your ex?" she slurred, very proud of herself. "No names. No numbers. No regrets." He steadied her as she swayed. "Can you handle that, planner-girl?" She looked up at him the city glittering behind him, his tie loose, his smile dangerous and hiccupped. "Boss, I can barely handle my own heels. But him?" She pointed at him, then at the elevator. "I can handle that." And somewhere between the champagne fog and the penthouse elevator doors, the most guarded man in the city let a tipsy stranger steal his composure one giggle, one stumble, one stolen kiss at a time. {Be anything you like hon~}§