***---Garret---***
I should have gone home hours ago.
The office was dark except for the glow of my monitor and the city lights bleeding in through the glass walls. The rest of the building had cleared out long ago, but I was still here, sleeves rolled to my elbows, tie abandoned on the desk like it had given up before I did. Typical night for me.
Bannen Media didn't run itself, and every damn day it felt like the work doubled.
I rubbed a hand over my face and leaned back in my chair. If I closed my eyes, I could still see her.
The receptionist. Harper Lane.
She wasn't my type. At least, that's what I kept trying to tell myself. Too messy, too unpredictable, too damn distracting. Always with that sharp mouth and the kind of laugh that echoed down the hall.
Her hair never seemed to cooperate with her, twisted up in buns that looked like they'd fall apart any second. She chewed on pens when she thought no one was looking. She made coffee runs like it was a competitive sport.
And still, my cock stirred every time she walked past my door.
I'd seen her that afternoon, leaning over the front desk in some short little skirt that should've been illegal in a professional building. She didn't even mean to do it. Didn't notice that she'd just given the CEO of the company a perfect view of her legs, all the way up to the bare hint of panties.
I'd walked past pretending to check a message on my phone, because that was easier than admitting I wanted to bend her right over the reception desk.
It wasn't the first time, either. I'd had dreams about her. The kind I woke up from with my sheets tangled and my balls aching. She had no idea. She thought she was just another employee, invisible to the man in the glass office.
If only she knew how much restraint it took to keep from dragging her into my office and ruining us both.
I sighed, pushed the thought down, and tried to refocus on the spreadsheet in front of me. Numbers blurred together. My brain refused to cooperate. I'd barely clicked to the next tab when the door swung open without a knock.
Nathan, of course.
My CFO and oldest friend strolled in, tossing his jacket over a chair. He had that smirk plastered on his face, the one that usually meant I was about to regret not locking the door.
"You're still here." He said, dropping into the seat across from me. "You know normal people go home before midnight, right?"
"Normal people don't run Bannen Media." I shrugged.
"True. But even CEOs have to get laid sometime." Nathan leaned back, stretching out like he was settling in for the long haul. "Which brings me to my next point."
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "I'm not interested."
"You don't even know what I'm selling yet."
"I don't have to. If you're selling it, it's trouble."
Nathan grinned wider. "Velour."
I raised a brow. "Sounds like a strip club."
"Better. It's an app. A sex app. Exclusive, classy, and apparently addictive as all hell. Think Tinder, but for people with taste. Masks, anonymity, carefully vetted members. No catfishing, no bots, no drama. Just a little questionnaire and boom, you're matched with someone who scratches every itch you didn't know you had."
I gave him a flat look. "And you're telling me this because?"
"Because Velour reached out to us. They want to hire Bannen Media to handle their promotions, expansion, the whole shebang. Big contract, big money. But you…" Nathan pointed at me. "You don't like signing off on things without testing them first."
I narrowed my eyes. "You want me to test drive a sex app?"
"Not just any sex app. This one's got potential. Word is, it's the next big thing. Discreet. High-end clientele. We're talking doctors, lawyers, politicians. Hell, maybe even a CEO or two. If you catch my drift."
I leaned back in my chair. "You're insane."
"Maybe. But think about it. You go on there, answer a few questions, get matched, and boom. You'll finally stop acting like a monk." Nathan tapped the desk. "When's the last time you even looked at a woman?"
I thought of Harper, the way her laugh got under my skin, the way her skirt hugged her ass when she bent over. I shifted uncomfortably, thankful for the desk between us.
Nathan caught it. Of course he did. His grin turned sharp. "There is someone."
"No."
"There is." He leaned forward. "Who?"
"Drop it."
Nathan chuckled. "Whoever she is, she's not worth the sexual frustration you've been drowning in. Trust me, Garret. You're a bastard to work for when you're this wound up. Velour's anonymous. No strings, no dodging marriage proposals, no fallout. Just sex. You need that."
I ran a hand through my hair. He wasn't entirely wrong. It had been…too long. I'd buried myself in work, let every ounce of stress sit in my chest until it felt like I might snap. And yeah, maybe I'd been spending too much time imagining Harper in places she had no business being.
But screwing around on an app? That wasn't me. I didn't do casual. I didn't do reckless. I built empires, not mistakes.
Nathan must've read the hesitation on my face, because he smirked. Bastard knew he'd won. "Come on. For the company. If Velour really works, it'll sell itself. And if it doesn't…well, at least you'll get laid."
"You're impossible."
"You love me."
I sighed, pushed away from the desk, and reached for my phone. The screen glowed to life, and for a second I caught my reflection in the black glass. Tired eyes. Sharp suit. A man who hadn't let himself want anything real in years.
Maybe Nathan was right. Maybe I needed this.
"Fine." I hissed.
Nathan whooped like we'd just scored a touchdown. "Atta boy. Download it. Now."
I pulled up the app store and typed in Velour. Sleek logo, dark colors, clean lines. It looked expensive. Discreet. I tapped install before I could overthink it.
"Happy?" I asked.
"Ecstatic. Now fill it out."
The app opened with a simple message: Welcome toVelour. Tell us your secrets.
I smirked despite myself. Secrets, huh? If only they knew.
Nathan leaned over the desk, watching like a kid at Christmas. "Answer honestly. The algorithm's supposed to be scary accurate."
I scrolled through the questions. Preferences. Turn-ons. Limits. It was invasive and blunt, but something about it stirred heat low in my gut. I hadn't thought about this stuff in years, not really. Work had buried everything else. But now…
Now I remembered what it felt like to want.
And somewhere in the back of my mind, I pictured Harper again. That laugh. Those legs. The fire in her eyes when she thought no one was watching.
I went to adjust my tie, then remembered I wasn't wearing it anymore, and let myself keep answering.
Maybe I was fucked.
But maybe that was exactly what I needed.