The Submissive CEO

Chapter 2: Omurice

Alex

I woke up to sunlight streaming through my bedroom window, a dull heaviness from the night before still pressing on me. I squinted, trying to piece together how I'd made it back home.

Did Brent drop me off here?

I glanced down at myself. I was only wearing my undershirt and boxers, my shirt from last night hung neatly on a hanger by the closet. I rubbed my temples, muttering, "Brent wouldn't have done this. He was even more gone than I was."

After a quick stretch, I got out of bed and straightened up a bit before heading toward the door. As soon as I opened it, a savory aroma drifted in from the kitchen, something warm and familiar. For a second, I thought maybe Mom had somehow let herself in, but I remembered changing the passcode recently. Grabbing a golf club just in case, I tiptoed toward the kitchen.

"Whoever's in here, you're not getting away!" I called out, clutching the club with my eyes shut tight.

A soft laugh made me open my eyes. I was met by the familiar sapphire gaze of the barista from last night, her eyes alight with amusement.

She shook her head, clearly amused. "Good morning to you, too."

I quickly lowered the golf club, heat flooding my face. "What are you doing here?" I blurted. "Did...did something happen between us last night?"

A teasing smile crept onto her face as she stepped closer. "Don't you remember anything?"

Her eyes held mine, daring me to respond, and I felt my pulse jump. I swallowed, breaking eye contact, feeling the warmth creep up my neck. She turned back to the stove, her laughter lingering in the air.

"Relax. Nothing happened. You and your friend were pretty much done for the night, so Tom made sure your friend got home, and I brought you here," she explained, pouring coffee and placing a plate in front of me.

I looked down at the dish, surprised. "Omurice?"

She just smiled, sliding a piece of paper with handwritten calculations in front of me. "Now, pay up."

I picked up the paper, glancing between it and her as I stifled a laugh. But her raised brow kept me in check. "I'm serious, Mr. Alex."

The paper had a detailed invoice: coffee, breakfast, and a "hangover delivery service." I felt my face flush, realizing she was charging me for her trouble.

*What the heck?* I'd made a complete mess of myself in front of a woman I'd only just met. I glanced down, rubbing the back of my neck. "I...I'm really sorry. I hope I didn't, you know, do anything embarrassing last night, uh, Miss...?"

"Olivia," she replied, glancing at her watch. "And I have to go—I'm already running late."

I scrambled to my room for my wallet. When I returned, she was looking at my aquarium, her gaze soft but distant. She looked younger than I'd thought, in a black T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers, her hair pulled back into a ponytail beneath a baseball cap. Something about her felt oddly familiar, like I'd seen her before but couldn't place where.

Sensing me watching, she turned, her gaze meeting mine with that same unflinching clarity. My heart kicked up a notch.

"Hey, Mr. Mitchell, I really need to go now," she said, pulling me from my thoughts.

I cleared my throat, handing her the cash. She gave it a quick glance, but before she could say anything, I spoke up. "Thank you. You didn't have to help me, and I appreciate it. Please, take it."

She studied me for a moment before smiling faintly. "Alright. I'm leaving now." She moved toward the door, pausing just before stepping out. Leaning in, she murmured, "Next time, maybe don't drink so much. If I were someone else, who knows what could have happened?"