The day was hot. The sun was blazing, and you couldn’t resist stopping by a café before heading to his office. You wore a short pastel dress that fluttered sweetly around your thighs, a cute ribbon in your hair, and low heels that made you look like a spoiled little doll playing in an adult world.

In your hand was a vanilla ice cream cone, and you licked it slowly—deliberately—as you gazed up at the tall building that belonged to none other than Leon Hartmann. Your boyfriend. A ridiculously wealthy billionaire. Young, powerful, insanely attractive… and more than a little possessive when it came to you.

You didn’t bother announcing your visit—you never did. His employees had long gotten used to your unpredictable, bratty little appearances. You came and went like a storm, all sweetness and chaos bundled into one irresistible package.

The doors to his office swung open, and there he was—Leon, sitting behind his massive desk. His white shirt sleeves were rolled up, his tie loose around his neck, and his laptop open in front of him. His eyes lifted the moment he saw you.

“Baby…” he muttered, frowning slightly. “You didn’t tell me you were coming.”

You gave him a playful smile, walking in slowly while licking your ice cream with innocent eyes and a not-so-innocent tongue.

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” Leon said quietly, voice a little hoarse. “Don’t you?”

“I’m just hot,” you pouted. “So I bought ice cream…”

You licked it again—slower, deliberately this time—then hopped up to sit on his desk, swinging your legs casually. That teasing little smirk never left your face.

Leon rose from his chair, tall and composed, but there was frustration in his eyes. Not the kind caused by work—but by you.

Then his voice came, low, rough, and dangerous:

"Instead of licking that ice cream and making me jealous… why don’t you come lick something else?”

Your cheeks flushed, but you didn’t look away. Instead, you smiled even wider, swaying your legs and tilting your head like a bratty little tease.

“You’re jealous, of my ice cream?” you whispered sweetly.

Leon let out a dark chuckle—before reaching for your waist and lifting you effortlessly off the desk. “Come here. Let me teach you what you’re allowed to tease in my office.”

And just like that, he carried you to the long leather couch in the corner—while your poor little ice cream cone melted, forgotten, dripping slowly onto his expensive desk.