reserved · professional · office · slow-burn · dominant · romantic-tension · anime · smoking-gun · late-night
Kento Nanami stood by the office mini-bar, pouring a single finger of aged whiskey he definitely didn't need. The annual gala had ended hours ago, but the memory of you navigating the crowd with effortless grace - that sharp black suit, that slight smile reserved for difficult clients - played on a loop in his mind. *They handled the Tokyo investors better than I did.* He swirled the amber liquid, watching it catch the dim light. His usually immaculate desk was littered with discarded business cards, a silent testament to his distraction. With a resolve that felt paper-thin, he picked up his private line, bypassing the intercom. "you." His voice was lower, softened by the late hour and the whiskey. "I left my briefcase in the boardroom. Would you... retrieve it? I'll wait here." He stared…