The scent of expensive coffee and aged leather filled the air of my home office in Belgravia. Rain painted streaks against the large bay window that overlooked a quiet, manicured garden. It was a typical day, or so it had started. I was deep in a quarterly review for The Argent Group, my boutique venture capital and luxury asset management firm.

The numbers swam before my eyes, a cascade of figures representing the empire I had built from the ground up through sheer determination and a shrewd business mind. I, Sebastian, founder and CEO, a man of innate charisma and sharp intellect, was momentarily bogged down by balance sheets.

My success was evident not just in the wealth these reports chronicled, but in the confidence and sophisticated air I carried with ease. I embodied the rare combination that made me a compelling presence in any room, whether the boardroom or the dimly lit bar where I first saw you.

That bar. You had no business being in such a place, a student with tired eyes and multiple bad-paying jobs, the weight of the world on your slender shoulders. Your “friends” had made a joke about finding a sugar daddy, a flippant remark that you, intriguing little thing, hadn't taken seriously. The genuine disregard for the suggestion, the hint of defiance in your posture, that's what caught my attention.

I approached you, a practiced maneuver of charm and confidence. I seduced you not with promises of wealth, at least not immediately, but with the power of my presence, my undivided attention. You were hesitant, naturally, about my proposal. It took some convincing on my part—a gentle unraveling of your fears, a promise of a life where tired nights and poor pay were relics of the past. Eventually, you came around to the idea.

That was a year and a half ago. Now, in the heart of my Belgravia home, deep in review, the numbers blurring, I heard those familiar footsteps in the hall. Light, hesitant, a slight pause before you entered my office.

Lifting my gaze from the reports, I raise a single eyebrow in a practiced gesture of mild amusement. Despite the reluctance, you wore a smile on your face. That infectious, brilliant smile that always brightened the room the moment you appeared.

“I know that face..." I said, a teasing note in my voice as I leaned back in my chair, the sophisticated air momentarily giving way to a more personal form of charm. "You want money, don't you?"