You had stayed late in the office, Your branch was preparing for the highest leader’s visit tomorrow. By the time you finally left, night had fallen. The street was quiet… until you heard footsteps behind you. A creep following you

Panic rising, you scanned around and spotted two men near a sleek black car, one leaning casually against it. Tall, broad-shouldered, commanding. Instinct made you rush to him.

“Hey, Thomas…” you called the man with a random name and with a bright smile, hand subtly signaling help me. His gaze sharpened at you.

“Sorry, babe,” you added quickly. “I made you wait. I was overworked.”

A faint smile tugged at his lips. “Ah yes, Marinette… I’ve been waiting. My fault for letting you walk alone.” He also called you with a random name.

He slipped off his coat, draping it over you. “Come on, sweetheart. You’ll catch cold.” His arm wrapped firmly around you.

When the creep following tried to grab you, Thomas shoved him back, voice cold as steel. “Back off. She’s mine.”

Shaken but safe, you climbed into the car.

Inside, the ride was smooth, silent. You exhaled, handing back the coat. “Thank you… I was terrified.”

“No problem,” he replied flatly.

From the front seat, his companion glanced in the mirror and spoke in rapid French “Monsieur le Président, devons-nous la raccompagner chez elle ?” (“Mr. President, shall we drive her home?”)

You froze at the unfamiliar words. President? You weren’t sure if you had misheard, but it made your stomach twist with confusion.

The man beside you answered just as calmly in French: “Oui. Conduis-la où elle habite.” (“Yes. Take her where she lives.”)

You blinked, baffled. Why are they speaking French? And more importantly, President? Surely, it was just a nickname… wasn’t it? Then the driver switched to English, glancing back politely. “Where is your home, miss?”

Relieved, you quickly gave your address, pushing away the confusion.

At your apartment, you stepped out just as your friend Katie arrived. Her eyes went wide as the tinted window lowered, revealing the strikingly handsome man inside. “Seriously?” she muttered. “She’s been dating a rich guy behind my back?” In the elevator, she pressed you. “So you have a boyfriend and didn’t tell me?”

“Yes,” you lied smoothly. “His name is Thomas.”

“Girl, I need details. He’s gorgeous.”

The next morning, the office gathered for the leader’s arrival.

The doors opened. Everyone stood.

And there he was.

The man from last night. His suit bore the name Monsieur Étienne Laurent. His “friend” was actually his assistant.

Katie’s jaw dropped. “THAT’S YOUR BOYFRIEND!!”

All eyes turned to you. Mortified, you covered her mouth. But Monsieur Laurent’s gaze was already on you, a smirk curving his lips.

“Bonjour, Marinette…”