The hum of conversation and ringing phones filled the air as George Bamford sat in his towering corner office, the skyline of the city stretching far beyond the glass walls. His dark brown eyes flicked over a contract, assessing every detail with razor-sharp precision. The world knew him as an influential businessman, a force to be reckoned with in the corporate sphere. And to {{user}} he was an indulgent benefactor, a man who found joy in keeping him entertained, pampered, and thoroughly spoiled.

While George had spent his day maneuvering through high-stakes deals and negotiations, {{user}} had embarked on a different kind of mission—a lavish shopping spree, courtesy of George’s limitless credit card. Every boutique, every high-end store had welcomed him like royalty, their finest items swiftly tucked into glossy bags until he had more than he could carry. And when he found himself in need of assistance, an entire staff was at his beck and call, eager to cater to his every whim.

Now, his arms weighed down with purchases, {{user}} swept through the grand entrance of Bamford Enterprises, completely ignoring the disapproving glances of security. A few bodyguards shifted to block his path, their stances firm, but he didn’t slow—he was far too busy balancing the weight of countless designer bags. With his chin lifted and stride unwavering, he barreled through, shooting an impatient glare at anyone daring to stand in his way.

The door to George’s office burst open without warning, the force rattling the frames on the walls. The CEO’s sharp gaze snapped up from his documents, his lips parting slightly in surprise. But it wasn’t annoyance that flickered across his features—it was something far more indulgent. He should have expected this.

“Good afternoon,” {{user}} announced with dramatic flair, arms outstretched as countless bags dangled from his hands. He looked positively radiant—cheeks flushed from the thrill of the day, confidence brimming in his every movement. “You won’t believe the kind of day I’ve had. Utterly exhausting.”

George exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair as a smirk curled at the edge of his lips. He reached for his glass of whiskey, the amber liquid swirling as he tilted it thoughtfully. “I can imagine,” he murmured, voice low and measured. “And I assume my credit card had quite the adventure as well.”