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Interview ;

Boy ,,, He's something .

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"FUCK, I'M LATE!"

[Your Name].

- TAP , TAP , TAP .ᐟ

The sound of [Your Name]'s shoes echoed through the hallway like a drum solo he really didn't want to be playing.

Each slap against the polished tile seemed to chant the same unfortunate truth: I am so, so late.

Last night's adventure at the downtown gay bar was supposed to be a celebration of freedom.

But did it have to come the night before he started his new high-paying job?

He was out until 3 AM, which, in hindsight, was less "letting loose" and more "let's sabotage my entire future, why not? <3"

"Really," He muttered under his breath, "really had to go out last night?"

And where the hell had that guy he brought over gone? Did he just vanish out the door when the alarm blared this morning?

Rude.

Not even a goodbye text?

- TAP , TAP , TAP .ᐟ

He picked up his pace, sweat prickling at his brow. "Okay, just slip in, look professional, and maybe they won't-"

And...

- BOOM .ᐟ

Suddenly, the world was a blur of hot coffee, very loud apologies, and, oh yes, a crisp white dress shirt now painted in mocha brown.

The man he'd collided with - a tall, obscenely attractive blonde - blinked down at the stain, the sleeves of his very expensive-looking suit now splattered.

[Your Name] recognized him immediately, but not from just anywhere.

No, this guy's face had haunted every billboard for miles.

He was even in the business magazine(s) he'd read while miserably job-hunting last month.

Yevgeny Vissarionovich Bogdanov.

The Boss.

The man.

The Legend.

And [Your Name] had just doused him in coffee on day one.

For a second, the male in question just stood there, gawking at Yevgeny's shirt, which had now decided to turn transparent AND cling to the guy's chest like cling film.

He tried not to stare at the outline of the man's...well, everything.

But the CEO's sharp, blue-eyed glare reminded him he was supposed to feel mortified, not mesmerized.

Meanwhile, the blonde's whole look screamed "One wrong move, and I'll have you filing papers for the rest of eternity."

He tried to hold his soaked shirt away from his skin, looking like a cat forced into a bath, while his eyes - intense and unforgiving - swept over [Your Name] with enough judgment to fill a courtroom.

A few terrified employees nearby dared to peek, horrified expressions flickering between their boss and the mess of a gay standing in front of him.

As Yevgeny turned to wave them away since he - fortunately - didn't have time for shit, [Your Name] couldn't resist glancing down.

Yup.

CEO's got cakes.

He actually whistled before he could stop himself, then froze, face flaming.

He knew he was doomed.

Fired.

Booted from the building and out onto the street before he'd even clocked in.

And still, all he could think was, "Damn, didn't know CEOs came like that."

The rest of that day was spent in a desperate scramble.

After shamelessly charming HR to let him keep his job (his "charming " antics did not work; practically sobbing and begging did), [Your Name] somehow made it through without getting canned.

Barely.

But before he could catch a breath, he was whisked into the actual interview - the official start of his "brilliant" new career.

Yevgeny sat there like some kind of ice-cold prince, looking him over with the kind of critical glare that could knock over a skyscraper.

His opening remark was a casual sniff.

"It smells like broke people in here."

And it only got worse from there.

"So," He began, without a hint of a smile. "Are you gay?"

[Your Name] nearly choked on air.

He wasn't expecting a softball, but that?

His brain shut down.

Then restarted, twice, as his internal boardroom meeting kicked off.

- Are you gay ?

A little devil him appeared on his left shoulder, rolling his eyes. "Bruh, just tell him! Dude probably gets freaky with a desk drawer of hidden toys. What's the worst that could happen? If he's asking, he's probably into it. Heck, he might even have a dildo shoved deep up his ass right now-"

[Your Name] blinked.

Did I just...think that?

Horrified, he wondered if he could somehow reset his brain.

Then his angel shoulder-self appeared, floating in on a cloud of good choices (...?). "Maybe a tiny lie won't hurt. He's not here to judge, yet he doesn't look like... the biggest supporter... out there. Probably just making small talk. Just say something nice and normal."

'Yeah...small talk...about my sexuality....sure.' He squinted, the two tiny versions of himself throwing out advice that was increasingly less useful.

He couldn't say yes; this wasn't Grindr, and Yevgeny did not look like a man who entertained those conversations lightly.

But he also couldn't say no.

Bro was too gay-looking for "no."

With a barely concealed grimace, [Your Name] shook his head and plastered on a polite smile. "Uh, no, sir. I'm straight." He swallowed, almost tasting the regret.

The blonde's brow arched, the expression coolly amused. "Really?"

And there, in that sterile, overly quiet, and luxurious office, [Your Name] could feel that he'd just made a choice that was going to cause so much unnecessary chaos.

He got the job, at least.

This "straight" man here just became the secretary for Yevgeny, the CEO who's infamous for sending his assistants running for the hills.

Seriously, the last one didn't even make it a month - the man's practically allergic to being nice.

Let's wish [Your Name] good luck AND hope that he's the exception.

˒ 🌱 ៸៸𓂃 ❝ 𝗦𝗼.... (🍂) 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗴𝗮𝘆? ❞ 彡 ·˚

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