The Billionaire's Brat Wants Me

Friday night did come, and yes, we did have sex.

And then some.

We also slept in late on Saturday morning, tangled up in sheets until nearly noon because someone kept going until my legs gave out. Not that I'm complaining.

The rest of that weekend blurred together in the best way possible. Laughter over breakfast, her hair messy and haloed by sunlight. Work calls we both almost ignored. Her stealing my coffee because hers was "too hot."

It was perfect.

And the week that followed... perfect too.

But that was two weeks ago.

Somewhere between those days, we'd found a rhythm again. A strange, delicate kind of balance. One that only made sense to us.

She worked from her office when she's at home, and I worked from mine. Different companies. Opposite sides of a corporate chessboard. But once we stepped out of those buildings, once the world clocked out and the titles fell away — Chairman's daughter, Financial Analyst, Lead Business Strategist, Deputy... none of it mattered.

Because at the end of the day, we were just Kai and Val.

And now, it's Monday.

---

The morning started quietly, just the way she liked it. Val woke up before me as usual. I'd never understand how she managed that, considering how much energy she spent keeping me up the night before.

I felt her lips before I even opened my eyes, soft, quick, deliberate.

"Wake up, sleepyhead husband," she whispered.

My voice was still thick with sleep. "You know, alarms exist for a reason."

She grinned. "Yeah, but they don't smell as good as me."

I cracked one eye open, and she was already standing there in her robe, hair damp from the shower, the morning sun catching the streaks of her hair.

I groaned, dragging a hand over my face. "You're unfairly attractive in the morning. It's not even legal."

"Good," she said with a smirk, turning toward her vanity. "Then you won't have the energy to argue with me before breakfast."

By the time I dragged myself out of bed and joined her downstairs, she'd already set out breakfast — coffee, toast, eggs, and something that looked suspiciously like a bribe. Pancakes.

She was already dressed: crisp white blouse tucked into a navy pencil skirt, hair pinned up in that perfect business twist that made her look like she could command an army.

I poured myself a cup of coffee and nodded toward the pancakes. "You trying to butter me up for something?"

"Always," she said easily. "It's part of the job description."

We sat across from each other, quiet except for the soft clinking of cutlery and the hum of the city waking up outside.

I could feel her eyes on me though, that quiet, watchful way she looked whenever she thought I wasn't paying attention.

"You're staring," I said, not looking up from my plate.

"I'm admiring," she corrected. "There's a difference."

I chuckled, shaking my head. "You're going to be late."

"I'm never late." She stood, brushing off imaginary crumbs and walked around the table to fix my tie. Her fingers moved deftly, practiced from years of doing it for me before big meetings or interviews.

"You know," she said softly, looking up at me, "I still remember the first time I did this for you. You were so nervous, you kept fidgeting."

"I wasn't nervous," I said automatically.

She raised a brow. "You adjusted your tie seven times and almost strangled yourself."

"Okay, maybe a little nervous."

Her laughter was quiet but full. The kind that reached her eyes.

When she was done, she straightened the tie, gave it one last pat, then leaned in and kissed me.

"Go be brilliant," she murmured against my lips. "But don't skip lunch again."

I smiled into the kiss. "Yes, ma'am."

She smirked. "Good."

We walked out together a few minutes later, both carrying our briefcases, both pretending we weren't already thinking about the day ahead.

I stopped beside her car as she opened the door.

"Drive safe," I said, automatically.

She looked up at me with that half-smile that always managed to make me forget whatever else was on my mind. "You too, husband."

I watched her pull out of the driveway, the morning light catching her windshield as she turned onto the main road.

And I couldn't help but smile.

About two weeks ago, we were caught between doubt and devotion.

Now, somehow, we'd found our balance again.

But today, today isn't going to be about me.

It's about the woman who can brighten a room and terrify it in the same breath.

Celestia Valentina Tanaka.

---

Val got to her office early. Typical of her. She's never once been late since she started at Moreau Dynamics. Even when she's running a fever or on three hours of sleep, she somehow still makes it before everyone else.

The building itself reflected that same kind of precision. The Moreau Dynamics headquarters was a towering glass-and-steel structure, one of those places that made you straighten your posture just by walking through the front doors. Everything about it screamed control — polished floors, the subtle scent of bergamot in the air, the quiet hum of efficiency. It wasn't just a company. It was a statement.

By the time the elevator doors slid open on the top floor, she'd already gone through half her emails.

"Good morning, Mrs. Moreau," Gianna her assistant greeted, matching her stride with the easy rhythm of someone used to keeping up. In her hands was a cup of coffee, perfectly timed, as always.

Val accepted it with a small, appreciative nod. "Thank you, Gianna. Anything urgent?"

"Just the revised proposal from the R&D department and the analytics summary you requested yesterday over the text message you sent." Gianna's tone was brisk but respectful. "I left them on your desk for review."

> "Good. I'll take a look before the meeting."

Gianna smiled, always a little amused by how composed Val was even before her first sip of caffeine. "Of course. Should I hold your calls until then?"

Val shook her head slightly, her heels clicking softly against the marble as they walked. "No, if it's important, patch it through. Otherwise, I'll handle them after lunch."

] "Got it."

By the time they reached her office, the morning light was spilling across the floor-to-ceiling windows. Her office was as minimalist as it was elegant — clean lines, warm tones, everything placed with purpose. The kind of space that looked like it belonged to someone who never lost her balance, even when everything else was chaos.

Gianna set a slim folder on her desk. "Here's the R&D file, Mrs. Moreau."

Val smiled faintly. "Thank you, Gianna. You can go."

The assistant gave a polite nod before leaving, closing the door softly behind her.

Val sat, exhaling quietly as she leaned back into the chair — that quiet moment between the rush of arrival and the weight of the day ahead. Her eyes wandered, landing on the framed photo resting at the corner of her desk.

It wasn't some perfectly staged portrait. Just the two of us — me with that stupid grin I always end up wearing whenever she laughs, and her, mid-smile, head slightly tilted toward me. There's something about that picture. Every time she looks at it, her shoulders ease just a little.

She keeps it there as a quiet reminder — that she isn't doing all this alone.

Her lips curved, soft and unguarded, the kind of smile only I ever get to see.

"All right, husband," she murmured under her breath, fingers brushing the frame before pulling the file toward her. "Let's do this."

And just like that, the quiet in the room shifted, replaced by that focused calm she carries into every fight, every deal, every battle that wears a professional face.

That's Val for you. Always the calm before the storm.

---

To be continued...