By 6:00 AM the next morning, the grand foyer of the Destiano mansion was in a state of absolute, high-fashion emergency. Dozens of elite designers,celebrity hairstylists, and personal tailors rushed across the marble floors, dragging racks filled with expensive silks and premium wools while luxury shoeboxes stacked six feet high lined the walls.
Diana Destiano stood near the grand staircase in her silk pajamas, sipping a morning espresso as her sharp brow furrowed in confusion. Tapping through her tablet to check the family calendars, she asked, "What on earth is going on? I checked the Destiano Group schedule and the fashion house calendar. There are no red-carpet events today. Why are Madrid’s top designers invading our house at this hour?"
Dedrick Destiano strolled in, shirtless and yawning, casually spinning a football on his finger. "Man, I don't know, but they woke me up. I thought there was a fire, but it’s just people arguing over the difference between midnight black and obsidian navy."
Luke Destiano walked down the stairs next, his blonde hair slicked back. His icy blue eyes narrowed at the massive temporary fitting station. "What is all this? Richard, what are you doing? I have a major scout meeting at the PTTS talent agency today. Why is my personal stylist trapped in our living room?"
From the center of the circle, Richard Destiano stepped out, framed in a breathtaking, custom-tailored light gray cashmere three-piece suit that screamed pure, elegant luxury. Every line was immaculate. A celebrity stylist applied a final touch of hairspray to his dark blonde hair while a designer adjusted his silk tie. [1]
"Richard..." Diana stared, completely baffled. "What is with the intense get-up? You look like you're about to sign a treaty to buy a small country."
"I just realized something very important this morning, Diana," Richard replied, checking his silver cufflinks with a cold, ruthless expression. "I am Spain’s No. 1 Most Eligible Bachelor. And I intend to keep it that way. Perfection requires constant upkeep."
Luke squinted, totally unconvinced. "Right... and you need an entire fleet of designers for a regular day at the office?"
"It is not a regular day," Richard smirked, smoothing his jacket. "Destiano Enterprises is hosting a spontaneous, massive 'Free Pastry Employee Appreciation Event' this morning. Ten thousand boxes of high-class pastries. I am personally overseeing the vendor selection."
Emily Destiano walked into the salon then, half-asleep and rubbing her eyes, clutching her tablet until a loud ping chimed from her banking app. Her eyes widened into saucers. "Oh my god! Richard! What is with the massive bonus you just wired into my student account?! Did you add too many zeros?!"
The cold corporate mask melted instantly into a deeply proud older brother smile. Richard walked over and patted her head. "Consider it your influencer funding, Emily. From this day forward, I promise I will never, ever forget to like, view, and share your content again for the rest of my life."
"Wait... really?" Emily blinked, completely clueless. "Because of my band vlog?"
"At first, I didn't know which bakery to pick for my ten thousand employees," Richard’s smug smirk returned as he grabbed his luxury leather briefcase. "लेकिन your social media story completely saved me. You have immaculate taste in local businesses, little sister."
Emily flushed heavily, her eyes sparkling with pride. "Aw, Richard! You're the best big brother ever! See? My content actually has a major corporate impact!"
Richard gave her a smooth, handsome nod, adjusted his lapels one last time, and marched out of the grand mansion like a king heading to war. Emily groaned loudly, throwing her hands in the air.
The morning sun reflected brilliantly off the pristine, floor-to-ceiling glass windows of Le Chic Artisan bakery. Inside, the spectacular tiers of gold-leaf tarts and artisanal cakes looked like museum sculptures under the crystal chandeliers.
Suddenly, the quiet, high-end street was overtaken by a thunderous rumble. A fleet of twenty matte-black corporate delivery trucks—each bearing the glowing golden crest of Destiano Enterprises—lined up along the curb. Leading the caravan was Richard's multi-million-euro armored luxury limousine, completely blocking traffic on the avenue.
Inside the bakery, Felix was casually setting a fresh tray of gold-leaf tarts into the glass display case. To keep his hair out of the ingredients, his silky black locks were neatly packed into a stylish bun on top of his head, leaving loose strands framing his gorgeous face and completely exposing his pale, flawless neck. He looked breathtakingly cute in a frilly pastel-pink baker's apron over his soft sweater. He blinked his rosy pink eyes, looking out the front window in pure confusion.
"Miya, bestie... look outside," Felix pouted, pointing a flour-dusted finger. "Why is a whole army of corporate trucks parking in front of our store? Did you accidentally order a million pounds of flour?"
Miya stepped out from the kitchen, her sharp eyes narrowing at the Destiano logo. Her assassin instincts flared. "What the hell...? No. That's a massive corporate entity. Get ready, Velvet. Something isn't right."
Outside on the asphalt, the limousine door flew open. A dozen heavily armed Destiano security guards in sharp black suits leaped out, forming a perimeter around the entrance. The primary secretary and head event planner sprinted over with digital clipboards, sweating profusely.
"Mr. Destiano! The perimeter is secure!" the secretary panicked. "We have the contracts ready for the ten thousand pastry boxes! Shall we send the corporate legal team inside first to negotiate the bulk price and inspect the kitchen facilities for safety?!"
Inside the luxury vehicle, Richard Destiano stared out the tinted window, his icy blue eyes locking onto Felix through the glass. The moment Richard saw Felix with his hair in that stunning bun, exposing his delicate neck and looking like an angelic doll in a pink apron, his corporate mask shattered into dust.
A violent, scorching crimson blush rushed up Richard’s neck, turning his entire face and the tips of his ears bright, burning red. His hands trembled slightly on his leather briefcase. The staff expected a commanding order. Instead, Richard turned his blushing face away, clearing his throat nervously.
"N-No! Absolutely not!" Richard’s voice turned incredibly soft, flustered, and completely panicked. "Cancel the legal team! Cancel the inspectors! Nobody moves a single inch!"
"Sir...?" The secretary blinked in utter bewilderment. "But the corporate protocol for bulk food vendors dictates—"
"I am the CEO, and I dictate the protocol! This is a highly... highly sensitive executive negotiation! I will go in alone. All of you... wait outside. If a single one of you steps foot inside that bakery, you are fired."
The guards stared at him like he had lost his mind.
"If they go in, they’ll scare my beautiful angel away..." Richard muttered frantically to himself as he pushed open the heavy car door. "Stay calm, Richard. You are Spain’s number one bachelor. You can handle a simple pastry vendor..."
Richard straightened his silk tie, took a deep breath to hide his trembling hands, and stepped out onto the sunlit sidewalk.
Richard straightened his silk tie, took a breathless, shaky second to wrestle his burning blush under control, and marched toward the glass door entirely alone. Outside, his massive corporate army remained frozen on the sidwalk, their clipboardes hanging limply in absolute, baffled silence.
A delicate brass bell chimed above the door.
Before the threshold even registered the shift in air pressure, Miya caught Richard’s immaculate reflection gliding across the polished marble counter. Her tactical instincts, honed by years of elite threat assessments, flared red. She lunged across the display case, grabbed a fistful of Felix’s frilly pink apron strings, and yanked him down into a vicious, teeth-clenched whisper.
"Velvet! Look alive!" Miya hissed, her amber eyes burning with pure, unadulterated panic. "That is Richard Destiano. He practically owns the GDP of this continent. Stand up straight, fix your posture, and lock your goddamn sass in a box! One smart remark from you, and this entire operation is incinerated by noon. Act. Normal."
"Ugh, fine, fine. I’m an innocent little muffin boy," Felix whined, batting his eyelashes with exaggerated annoyance. "Stop tearing my cotton strings, bestie!"
Felix flattened his pastel sweater, painted a breathtaking, angelic smile across his lips, and pivoted toward the entrance just as Richard stepped over the line.
The glass clicked shut, silencing the multi-million-euro motorcade outside. Richard stood frozen in the center of the sunlit boutique, clutching his leather briefcase like a tactical riot shield. He tried to summon his signature corporate frost—the expression that made international boards weep—but the moment his icy blue eyes locked onto Felix, his entire nervous system short-circuited.
Felix’s hair was still captured in that lazy, perfect bun, leaving the fragile, porcelain curve of his neck entirely bare against the frilly pink fabric of the apron.
A wave of crimson heat surged up Richard’s collar, blooming violently across his chiseled jaw and burning the tips of his ears a blazing, nuclear red. He looked less like a captain of industry and more like a teenage boy who had just walked straight into a glass wall in front of his crush.
Felix blinked his big, rosy pink eyes. The angelic smile evaporated, replaced instantly by a look of flat, comically brutal clarity. Every warning Miya had issued five seconds ago vanished into thin air. He raised a flour-dusted index finger and pointed it directly at the CEO’s chest.
"Oh! Hey!" Felix chirped brightly, his voice ringing like a bell through the quiet shop. "You’re that hallway guy from the gala! The one who gets red like a tomato for literally no reason!"
In the background, Miya made a soft, choking noise, her spirit nearly leaving her earthly vessel as her knuckles turned stark white against the marble.
Richard felt the absolute structural integrity of his soul collapse. His hands trembled so violently against his briefcase handle that the gold clasp rattled.
"B-Boyband...?" Richard’s legendary, deep-baritone voice cracked into a high, breathless, thoroughly derailed squeak. "I—I am the Chief Executive Officer of Destiano Enterprises! I—I came to inspect your—your tarts!"
Comments (2)
See all