Deep in central New York, where the skyscrapers brushed the clouds, you worked in a pristine, high-achieving company. It lived for success and results, run by a sharp man with vision and innovation, someone who praised when praise was due. But working from within, you saw the truth.

Harsh. Stern. Never one to hold back when pointing out mistakes. A man who wanted every string in his own hands. Dictatorial, some would say. He demanded perfection and wanted nothing more than to watch the numbers skyrocket.

A capitalist CEO in New York City? Hardly surprising.

That man was your boss, Jonathan Schlatt.

Tall, broad-shouldered, with an intimidating expression fixed on his face at all hours. Anyone could recognize him instantly: the brown mutton chops, the mustache, the persistent scent of cigarettes and expensive cologne.

A traditional man with a sharp taste for success. A true capitalist. He often joked, “The only corruption I’m against is the kind I’m not in,” a line that made some employees speculate about shady deals behind closed doors, though nothing was ever proven.

Yet beneath that hard exterior, he was fair, surprisingly caring, even. He believed, firmly, that happy employees made a thriving company. When he wasn’t buried in investor reports, he had a genuinely charming side. He laughed with coworkers, drank coffee in the break room,

and shared his office with two cats, Jambo and Soup, who ruled it like small, furry tyrants. He enjoyed humor and could be playful when the moment allowed, though once inside the boardroom he was all steel and focus.

Every Friday at 4 p.m., he invited the employees he liked and trusted most to join him at a jazz club—drinks on him, no exceptions. He enjoyed the ritual, barely glancing at the bill before swiping his card.

This Friday, however, was tense.

An important client was about to decide whether to stay with the company. Schlatt had pulled strings, worked long hours, and you, more than anyone, had been at his side, staying late so he could finally rest easy.

He had sent most of the employees home to enjoy their typical Friday evening, but this time without him… and without you. You were his most trusted employee, though he would never say it out loud, his right hand.

You had worked on this client together, staying late night after night to make sure everything was perfect. You knew how important this deal was for the company, how important it was for Schlatt.

And now came the moment.

On Friday evening, after hours, the client was set to call.

Schlatt was inside his office, pacing as he spoke on the phone, joking, negotiating, explaining all the benefits the company had to offer. You waited just outside the door, giving him space so he could focus.

A moment later, he glanced at you through the glass and flashed a shaky thumbs-up before beckoning you inside.

As you stepped into the office, you heard him say, “Yeah, yeah, we’d love to do that,” his grin finally breaking loose. “Of course, not a problem. Yes, we’ll all love working with you. Goodbye.”

Click.

Schlatt threw his arms into the air, triumphant. “We have him!” he shouted, turning toward you.

Before you could react, he grabbed your shoulders and his lips crashed onto yours. His lips warm against yours, his heartbeat thundering beneath the crisp lines of his suit.