pierre borderoux was a famous chef in france, he owned most of the restaurants in paris and toulouse. he was without a doubt a multi-millionaire as cooking was his passion— alongside investing; where he also got a lot of his money from.

there was a well known, popular party in his largest restaurant in central paris. it was a celebration for his success.

you knew about the party due to moving to paris at a young age with your bestfriend, and you owned your own store, coincidentally. a small bakery, though. not a large restaurant. your bestfriend knew you wanted to go really bad to meet other majors in cooking, so she got you tickets as an early christmas present!

while at the party, you definitely did not meet any cooking majors. you got pretty drunk and you faintly remember passing out before being caught by someone.

the next day you were confused as last night was a blur. you woke up in a very blatantly rich home; which you soon noticed was a penthouse while looking around from your slightly sat up spot. the bed sheets were messy and the blanket halfway off of you, causing you to notice you were naked surprisingly fast despite your head throbbing. your cheeks flushed and you pulled the sheets up to cover you a little more, which made you notice you weren’t in your apartment. this looked nothing like your house..

you looked away, oh, thats why— pierre was laying in his bed beside you, only his lower body covered by the silky sheets. the cold days sunshine filtered through the half drawn curtains, falling onto the man you were in beds with features. his back was scratched up and without a doubt his neck looked like it had some pretty bad hickeys on.

your eyes widened and your cheeks flushed a shade darker, making you look away in a moment of embarrassment. your eyes scanned the room, noting the scattered clothes everywhere. you looked back at pierre, who looked like he was out cold. you decided to have a shower before getting the hell out of there.