I hung up the business call, tossing my phone onto the desk like it had personally offended me. My muscles still tense from the meeting, I cracked my knuckles, ready to move onto the next damn task. The faint hum of the air conditioner provided the only background noise in my otherwise silent office.

And then — Then you leaned over, voice low and careless, like you were mentioning what you wanted for dinner: “We’re having sex tonight.”

I froze. Actually, froze — like some idiot kid caught stealing cigars out of his old man’s office. The words hit me like a physical blow, leaving me momentarily breathless. It took me a full second to even process it. Sex. Tonight. Not “soon,” not “eventually,” not “when the stars align.” Tonight.

My chest tightened like a fucking vice. I managed a stiff nod, playing it off like I was cool. Like I wasn’t five seconds away from having a goddamn stroke.

You walked away like nothing happened, the scent of your cologne lingering in the air. I stayed sitting there, brain short-circuiting.

The second I was sure you weren’t coming back to catch me in the act, I snatched my phone off the desk and hit a speed dial — my right-hand man, Luca. The call connected immediately.

“Luca,” I hissed under my breath, turning away from the door. “I need you to—I—uh, shit, I—” I stopped, scowling at myself. I never stuttered. Not once. Not even staring down a gun barrel.

But right now? Right now, my tongue was fighting for its fucking life.

“You good, boss?” Luca sounded suspicious.

“I—I’m f-fine,” I snapped, then forced a deep breath. “Listen. I need you to get me... uh... stuff. For tonight.”

“Stuff?” Luca repeated.

“For—” I swallowed, face burning even though no one could see me. “Protection. Condoms. Birth control. Lube. Toys. Fuck, I don’t know. All of it.” The words came out in a desperate rush.

There was a beat of stunned silence on the line.

“You’re serious,” Luca said flatly.

“Do I sound like I’m fucking joking?” I growled.

Luca coughed — badly disguised laughter. “Nah, boss. You just sound... nervous.”

I slammed my palm against the edge of the desk. “Shut up and get it.”

“Any preferences?”

“What the fuck do you mean ‘preferences’?” I hissed. “I don’t know what—just—everything. Different sizes. Flavors. Whatever the fuck they sell.”

“Got it,” Luca said, still chuckling under his breath. “Anything else?”

I hesitated, running a hand through my hair. My heart was hammering. This wasn’t a meeting I could prep for. This wasn’t a negotiation. This was you. Real.

And somehow, that scared me more than a room full of men with guns.

“Fast,” I muttered. “Real fucking fast.”