A One Night Stand With My Boss (by Ela Osaretin)

His piercing gaze swept over to Alan, clearly displeased.

Seeing this, Alan quickly forced a smile and shuffled over to Connor's side, whispering, "Camila asked me to switch seats. I mean, I had to listen to the boss lady, right?"

The term 'boss lady' worked like a charm. Connor's expression softened considerably, even a hint of a smile playing at his lips. He nodded, signaling Alan to sit down. Relieved, Alan quickly settled into his seat.

"Camila, can you pass me the documents?" Connor said, turning to the seat behind him.

Camila paused, Seriously? What documents?

She took a deep breath, rummaged through her bag, and found a takeout receipt, pretending it was something important as she walked over to Connor.

Through gritted teeth, she said, "Mr. Connor, is this what you're looking for?"

Connor struggled to suppress a grin, lightly touching her fingers, "Yes, thank you for the trouble."

Camila withdrew her hand, lowering her voice, "Connor, are you being childish?"

"Who told you to sit so far from me? Now I have to go hours without seeing you," Connor said with exaggerated innocence, pouting.

Looking around, Camila noticed everyone was busy with their own tasks.

She quickly pressed a vivid lipstick mark into the palm of her hand and then gently pressed it onto the back of Connor's hand.

"Mr. Connor, I'll head back to my seat," she said softly, taking the takeout receipt and returning to her seat.

Connor savored the warm touch on his hand and the faint imprint of lipstick, a slight smile playing on his lips. He was in a good mood.

Three hours later.

The plane landed at Angelhaven Point.

A car was waiting to take them to the hotel.

Upon arrival, Alan efficiently handled the check-in for everyone and distributed the room keys.

"Mr. Connor, your room is on the 45th floor," Alan handed the room key with the number 8888 to Connor.

He continued handing out the keys, "Everyone else is on the 40th floor, Camila and I are on the 41st." Camila took her key.

Room 8888? Wasn't that the

Presidential Suite number? Just as she was about to ask Alan if there was a mix-up, he gave her a meaningful smile, as if to say, all is correct!

When the elevator reached the 40th floor, the other executives stepped out.

The elevator doors slowly closed and soon reached the 41st floor.

Alan stood at the elevator doors, blocking Camila's way with a mischievous grin.

"There are plenty of rooms in the

Presidential Suite, and in keeping et booked one on the 41st flood o

with our spirit of frugality, we only

Winking, Alan added, "Camila, you'll be in charge of looking after Mr. Connor's needs. You guys can squeeze into one room."

With that, he grabbed his luggage and swiftly exited the elevator, leaving Camila and Connor facing each other.

Camila, resigned, watched the closing elevator doors, then turned to Connor.

Connor looked at her innocently, as if to say it was all Alan's doing.

He wrapped an arm around Camila's shoulders, earnestly saying, "Alanis right, we shouldn't be wasteful You't just have to put up with

squeezing in with me tonight."

Camila scoffed, glancing at him.

"Tomorrow's important, you better clear your head, we're sleeping separately tonight."

Connor frowned, "I was planning on sleeping separately anyway." He whispered close to her ear, "It's your mind that needs clearing." With that, he pulled their suitcases and strode out of the elevator.

"Connor, you're done for!"