Grace's POV
The young man spun around to face me once more. He casually leaned against the glass panel, sliding his hand into his jeans pocket.
He gave a playful shrug. "He's gone now."
I smiled and nodded back. "Yeah, he's gone, thankfully."
"And now it's just you and me," the man grinned at me. I couldn't tell if he was being serious or just flirting playfully.
Either way, that simple statement sent my heart and mind into complete chaos.
Heat spread through my body, and those inappropriate thoughts crept back into my head—stronger this time, harder to shake off.
I took a large gulp of wine, hoping to drown out these feelings. I honestly had no clue why I was getting turned on by a complete stranger.
To break the awkward tension I was feeling, I asked, "What about you? What's eating at you?"
His grin vanished the instant I asked the question. Dead silence filled the space, as if he refused to open up about his troubles.
I clicked my tongue in annoyance. "What's with the silent treatment? Didn't we make a deal to share our problems? That's why I spilled mine!"
"I know, and I don't break my promises," the young man answered. He walked back to his seat and grabbed his wine bottle. He took a long swig of the potent alcohol, trying to get completely wasted and black out, but it wasn't working.
His alcohol tolerance was ridiculously high.
He exhaled deeply and sank into the sofa. "Fine, ask me anything and I'll give you straight answers."
I thought it over for a moment. So many questions ran through my mind, including how he'd managed to get hold of the CEO's office key.
But that seemed pointless since we'd be strangers after tonight anyway, so I just wanted to know what mess he was dealing with.
"Just tell me what's wrong," I said. "Since you're in the same boat as me."
"Same boat as you?"
"I mean, you brought your own alcohol, broke into an office to spend the night by yourself, and tried to drink yourself unconscious just to forget your problems," I explained. "We're basically identical, right?"
"Heh, when you put it like that, I suppose we are," the man mumbled. He stared down at the wine bottle in his grip before muttering, "It's family drama."
"Family drama? What kind?"
"Every kind," the man scoffed. "My family is garbage, period."
I watched his playful demeanor completely disappear. He turned serious the moment we touched on his family situation.
It must be heavy stuff to discuss, but I wanted fairness. I'd shared my troubles with him. He should return the favor!
"Well, if you won't talk, then let me take a shot at guessing, just like you did earlier," I said.
The man stayed quiet, but he waited silently, curious if I could nail it.
"Is it about your father?" I guessed.
The man's head shot up immediately. He looked shocked. "How did you—"
I giggled. "You think you're the only one with brains? You're probably in your early to mid-twenties, and guys that age typically clash with their fathers," I explained. "Maybe over careers, inheritance, or even arranged marriages."
I watched the man look more horrified with each problem I listed that young men his age usually faced. It seemed like I'd hit every single target.
"Wait, don't tell me you're dealing with all of those issues?"
The man pressed his lips together and gave a reluctant nod. "I am."
"Wow," I shook my head in disbelief. "You sound like some spoiled rich kid. Are you President Benjamin's son or something?"
"Hell no!" the man exploded angrily. "Don't lump me in with that old bastard!"
I was taken aback by his sudden rage. I never expected him to get so furious over a simple joke.
After all, who wouldn't want to be a wealthy brat whose father owned a billion-dollar empire?
But I didn't want to kill the vibe between us, so I backed down. "I didn't realize that would set you off."
The young man caught his mistake and apologized. "Sorry, I just have serious beef with that guy."
"You mean the guy who owns this place?"
"Owned," the man corrected. "Tsk, yeah, whatever."
The more this young man tried to deny any connection and exploded whenever I brought up President Benjamin, the more suspicious I became.
No way he could access the office key if he was some random nobody. So my brain started piecing things together. 'Could he actually be that rich brat who's supposed to become the new CEO, replacing Mr. Tristan Benjamin?'
...
'Oh please, forget that thought, Grace,' I told myself. 'There's no way this guy is that spoiled brat. From what I've heard from other employees, the kid taking over this publishing company is spoiled, cold, cruel, and completely unpleasant.'
'But this guy isn't moody at all. He's been nothing but kind and respectful this whole time,' I tried my best to dismiss the idea that this guy might be my new boss, and the alcohol definitely helped me quickly ignore this possibility.
The young man's mood soured after I mentioned President Benjamin. He just drank quietly, trying to forget his troubles.
Then, completely out of nowhere, he said, "My biggest problem isn't about money or my position. It's about what they ordered me to do tonight."
"And what did they order you to do?"
"Sleep with a woman they picked for me," the young man replied with a bitter laugh. "It's hilarious that they think they can control my life after all the terrible things they've done. I want to choose the woman I sleep with and marry, not follow orders from two hypocrites."
"And the woman you'd choose is?" I felt sorry for him. This young man was probably already involved with someone his age, so naturally he'd reject another woman.
The young man lifted his head slightly until he could look directly at me, leaning against the sofa's armrest across from him. I was already drunk, my cheeks flushed with a soft pink glow and my eyes had that hazy, alluring look that could tempt any man.
So he answered without missing a beat, "You."