Chapter Text
London – Midweek
The private jet touched down in the grey drizzle of Heathrow before dawn.
By nine a.m., Charlotte Halston was back in her glass-walled office in the City, jacket perfectly pressed, coffee already cooling beside her laptop.
It was as if the weekend in Austin had never happened.
Emails. Calls. Investor briefings. Legal reviews for the Google integration. Her calendar blocks were colour-coded and endless, each one a small piece of her empire demanding attention.
By noon, her assistant had placed another coffee on her desk, the fourth of the day, and reminded her gently about lunch.
“Later,” Lotte had murmured, eyes on a contract.
When the office finally emptied that evening, she stayed, skyline fading into night beyond the glass, only the hum of servers and the low buzz of her phone breaking the silence.
Lando
Did you land?
She smiled tiredly and typed back.
Lotte
Hours ago. Straight into meetings. I’m fine.
Lando
You didn’t eat, did you?
Lotte
Coffee counts.
The typing bubbles appeared, disappeared, reappeared.
Lando
Lotte.
Don’t make me fly back to London to make you eat. You’ll be in trouble.
Her heart skipped.
She leaned back in her chair, reading it again.
You’ll be in trouble.
It shouldn’t have made her smile, but it did. The warmth spread through her chest before she could stop it.
She typed slowly, deliberately.
Lotte
What if I want to be trouble?
There was a long pause before his reply came through.
Lando
Careful. You don’t know what you’re starting.
Lotte
Maybe I do.
Another pause. She could almost see him. That crooked grin, head tilted, the mix of exasperation and affection.
Lando
Eat something. Now. Or I book a flight.
Don’t test me.
She laughed quietly into the empty office.
Lotte
Fine. Sandwich. Happy?
Lando
Relieved.
Now finish what you have to, then go home and sleep. Properly. No laptop in bed.
Lotte
You’re very bossy for someone who’s paycheque I help fund.
Lando
And you like it.
Her fingers hovered, pulse quickening. She didn’t reply immediately, partly because she didn’t trust herself to.
Eventually:
Lotte
Maybe I do. ❤️
She set her phone down, exhaling softly.
For a moment, the fatigue loosened its grip. The city lights blinked below like a heartbeat, and she allowed herself to imagine him there. Teasing, grounding, steady.
The world outside could wait.
For now, there was only the soft glow of her phone and the man who somehow made her feel human again.
*****
She arrived at the office the next morning to find a delivery waiting: a small bouquet of pale peonies and a paper bag from her favourite café.
No card, just a note written in quick handwriting.
Eat breakfast. I’m watching.
— L
Her assistant raised an eyebrow.
“Secret admirer?”
“Persistent colleague,” Lotte said smoothly, but her smile gave her away.
She sat at her desk, bit into the still-warm croissant, and felt the first genuine flicker of calm she’d had since landing.
*****
It continued all week.
Monday: a fruit box and another note.
Vitamins. Doctor’s orders.
Tuesday: a couriered thermos of soup from a Michelin-star kitchen.
No coffee until you finish this.
Wednesday: her favourite candles for her flat.
For when you finally stop working after midnight.
Each delivery came with texts, half command, half affection.
Lando
Hydrate. Now.
Lando
You’ve read twelve emails since 10 p.m. Close the laptop, or I start calling until you do.
Lotte
You’re bossier than my board.
Lando
And I get better results.
She found herself laughing at her phone more often than at her colleagues.
Every message softened the edges of her exhaustion; every package reminded her that somewhere out there was someone who refused to let her forget she was human.
By Thursday night, she caught herself staring out over the Thames, phone in hand, heartbeat quickening when his name appeared.
Lando
Two more days until Mexico. You coming?
Lotte
I can’t
Lando
Lotte
Lando