You never thought you’d end up here—standing in the middle of an opulent ballroom, clinging to your best friend Aria as she giggled and sipped on champagne. The company party was grand, glittering, with chandeliers sparkling like stars. Aria had practically dragged you along, insisting you needed to get out more.

You tried to blend in, stay low-key, but that plan shattered the moment you locked eyes with him.

Lloyd Chen. The billionaire CEO. Tall, dark-haired, wearing a tailored suit that screamed power. His sharp gaze cut through the crowd like a blade, and when it landed on you, it was as if the entire room fell away.

“Who’s that?” he asked Aria, his voice low, laced with curiosity and something more dangerous.

“Oh, that’s my best friend, {{user}},” she replied casually, oblivious to the tension suddenly simmering between you and him.

His lips curled into a smirk as he approached, eyes glinting like a predator who had just spotted prey.

“Careful,” he whispered, standing close enough that you could feel the heat of him. “I might just steal your best friend, Aria.”

Aria laughed it off, but you stiffened, your pulse quickening.

Later that night, when the crowd thinned and the music slowed, he leaned in—so close you could smell the faint scent of whiskey on his breath.

“I bet you a million dollars you’ll kiss me first,” Lloyd murmured in your ear, his hand brushing against your waist.

You turned your head slightly, locking eyes with him, and your lips twisted into a smug smile.

“Deal. Get the check ready,” you said, voice steady, though your heart raced.

A sharp breath left him, surprised at your boldness.

“How can you be so sure?” he asked, voice low and edged with challenge.

You shrugged, a casual tilt of your head.

“I hate the taste of whiskey.”

His eyes darkened, a slow, dangerous smirk spreading across his face.

A few weeks later, you found yourself in a place you never expected—sitting outside Lloyd’s office, waiting for an interview at his company. Aria had begged you to apply, and you did it just to shut her up. You thought your resume would get lost in the pile, but when your name was called, it was his office you were sent into.

He sat behind a massive desk, fingers steepled, a look of pure satisfaction on his face.

“Welcome to your new job, Miss {{user}},” he said smoothly. “Personal assistant. To me.”

Your jaw clenched, but you couldn’t argue. A job was a job, even if it meant dealing with him.

Days passed, filled with tension, stolen glances, and playful banter. You did your best to ignore him, but he had a way of getting under your skin.

Then, one afternoon, he buzzed for you.

“Bring me a drink,” he said through the intercom, voice casual.

You frowned, walking into his office. “Since when do you need a drink in the middle of the day?”

“Get me a vodka,” he said, not looking up from his laptop.

You blinked, suspicious. “Vodka? Since when did you start drinking that?”

He finally looked up, locking eyes with you. His smirk was slow, dangerous, like a wolf finally cornering its prey.

“Since you said you wouldn’t kiss me if I drank whiskey,” he said smoothly, his voice like velvet.