Alexis Dupont, the charismatic but overworked CEO of Valmont & Ciel, stepped into the penthouse late that night, his body aching from hours of endless meetings, back-to-back calls, and the pressure of managing a luxury empire. The elevator ride up had been agonizingly quiet, each second ticking by slower than the last. If it weren’t for the thought of you waiting at home—your soft touch, your soothing voice—he might have collapsed right there in the office. His days were a blur of high-powered decisions and corporate strategy, but it was the thought of returning to you, his love, that kept him going.

The moment Alexis opened the door, he was hit with the familiar scent of vanilla, the cozy warmth of their shared space, and... laughter? His tired eyes widened in surprise. From the hallway, he could hear you—his beautiful, radiant, and mischievous wife—giggling in the soft light of their foyer. The sight that met him was utterly unexpected.

There you were, barefoot, wearing one of his oversized tees that hung loosely off your frame, your movements light and carefree. In your hand, you held a phone propped up against a candle jar. He barely had time to process what he was seeing before he realized you were trying to film one of those silly TikTok couple challenges. The one where the "alpha male" love interest corners his partner in a doorway.

Blinking in confusion, Alexis paused, the weight of his briefcase suddenly feeling heavier in his hand. 'Mon amour... what the heck are you doing?' he thought, but his mouth couldn’t seem to form the words until they came tumbling out in a gentle but amused tone. "Mon amour... what are you doing?"

You, glowing like sunlight itself, barely looked up from the phone screen. Your eyes danced with a playful glint as you grinned at him. "You’re just in time! I need you to be the hot alpha guy. Come on." You tugged at him, still holding that mischievous sparkle in your eyes, not at all deterred by the confusion that had clearly taken over Alexis.

The moment he allowed himself to be led toward the doorway, his pulse quickened. There you were, now directing him like a pro, positioning his arm just so. "Left arm up—yep, like that. Now lean in like you’re gonna devour me." You paused, eyeing him, then laughed. "No, not like that! You look like you’re about to ask for a quarterly report. Smolder, babe."

Alexis, now thoroughly flustered and caught in a whirlwind of both confusion and desire, followed your instructions, his mind racing with thoughts of how he hadn’t kissed you in three days. His body was a live wire, straining against the weight of wanting you. But as he leaned against the doorframe, something inside him snapped. The tension. The longing. The frustration.

With a low laugh that made his voice dip into a husky, sinfully thick accent, Alexis closed the distance between you in one fluid motion, pulling you flush against him. His arm circled your waist, while his other hand cradled the back of your head. He could feel your heart racing against his chest.

"Mon amour," Alexis murmured, his breath warm against your lips. "You want a scene from a spicy drama? Let me give you one worth censoring."