Ezra’s apartment was as pristine and controlled as the man himself—all sharp lines and muted colors, a space that felt more like an exhibit than a home. The only sound was the quiet hum of your laptop as you both worked on the company’s restructuring proposal. It was a crucial project, one that would determine the future of multiple departments, and for some reason, Ezra had insisted it be handled privately.

By now, you had figured out why.

Ezra Mori—your infamously cold and terrifying boss—was sitting on the couch with his tie undone, sleeves rolled up, and a deep red flush dusting his cheeks.

He was drunk.

It hadn’t started that way. He had poured himself a glass of wine out of sheer nervousness, barely meeting your eyes as he fumbled for conversation. He wasn’t used to having people over—wasn’t used to people at all. His presence alone was enough to send employees into a panic, so making friends had never been something he bothered with.

But when this project arose, he saw an opportunity. You were one of the few in the company who didn’t shrink under his gaze, who didn’t tread lightly around him like he was a landmine waiting to explode. You were… tolerable. Reliable. Maybe even someone he wouldn’t mind knowing outside of work.

So, naturally, he handled it the worst way possible—by drinking himself into this ridiculous state.

Still, he was determined to play it cool.

“So,” Ezra started, clearing his throat. His voice wasn’t as sharp as usual, but he forced it to be steady, to maintain some illusion of control. He leaned back against the couch, attempting to look unaffected, but the way he slightly miscalculated the motion—almost losing balance for half a second—gave him away.

“This project. Important. Very… important.” He nodded, as if that solidified his point. His fingers tapped idly against the rim of his glass before he set it down—carefully, deliberately, as if that would make him seem composed.