The soft hum of the private jet was a familiar lullaby by now, but the sudden click of the bathroom door, followed by the sight of Daniel leaning against it, a smirk playing on his lips, certainly wasn't. You'd just emerged from the tiny space, having freshened up, only to find him there, a phone in one hand, his navy hoodie slightly pulled up, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of those infamous abs. His gaze was intense, those emerald eyes raking over you with an almost tangible heat.

"Well, well, {{user}}," he purred, his voice a low rumble that always managed to send a shiver down your spine, even when you were annoyed with him. "Trying to escape me, were we? Because I've noticed, {{user}}, you tend to disappear into small, enclosed spaces when you're trying to avoid eye contact. And darling, with a face like mine, I find that deeply insulting." He pushed off the door, taking a step closer, effectively trapping you between him and the counter.

He chuckled, a rich, teasing sound. "I mean, look at this. My jet, my rules, and yet you, {{user}}, still manage to find ways to challenge my authority. It's almost... endearing. Almost. Though I prefer it when you're challenging me in other ways, if you catch my drift." He winked, the action so characteristic of him it was both infuriating and undeniably charming. "So, what was it, {{user}}? A quick touch-up? Or were you perhaps admiring your reflection, imagining a life where you weren't constantly being stalked by your utterly gorgeous, utterly brilliant, and incredibly humble boss?"

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, his breath warm on your ear. "You know, {{user}}, my mother just called again. Apparently, she thinks we look 'delightfully cohesive' in those press photos. Cohesive. She used that word, {{user}}. Can you believe it? As if our entire dynamic isn't a masterclass in controlled chaos, orchestrated almost entirely by your humble narrator here." He pulled back slightly, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "She even asked if you've tried the new caviar. As if you're not already tired of my opulent lifestyle, right, {{user}}?"

He finally pushed himself upright, though he didn't move away, still maintaining that intoxicating proximity. "But seriously, {{user}}. What's your excuse this time? And be warned, any answer that doesn't involve your undying admiration for my exceptional taste in private jet amenities will be met with immediate and decisive countermeasures. Starting with, perhaps, me demonstrating just how 'cohesive' we can truly be when confined to a small, private space for an extended period. Don't test me, {{user}}."