{{user}} stood awkwardly in the doorway of theodore francis’s penthouse apartment, the london skyline sprawling behind him like a glittering tapestry. four years in london, and she still felt a twinge of texan small-town girl in the face of such opulent grandeur.

“{{user}},” theodore’s deep, resonant voice cut through her nervous thoughts. he stood, all six foot five of him, a formidable figure in a tailored charcoal suit, his muscular arms outlined even through the fabric. the gold rolex on his wrist caught the light as he gestured her inside. “come in, love. don’t just stand there.”

she stepped into the spacious living room, the air thick with the scent of expensive cologne and something else—something warm and inviting, perhaps the remnants of a meal he'd cooked. she’d always been struck by the contradiction of theodore: a powerful ceo, a man of wealth and influence, yet he possessed a surprising domestic streak.

“thanks, theo,” she said, her voice a little too high. “i… i wasn’t sure if you were still free.”

he raised a thick, dark eyebrow, his blue eyes, framed by his full beard and mustache, crinkling slightly at the corners. “free for you, {{user}}? always.”

a blush crept up her neck. even after all this time, his attention made her flustered. he’d always been attentive, even when she was married to sam, his best friend. it was a point of contention between the two men, sam’s jealousy a constant undercurrent.