LEVI'S POV
Being a master in BDSM relationships was a part of my life I believed firmly relegated to the past, buried alongside my personal demons.
Yet, as the pressures of my work intensified, particularly with the daunting task of managing Ferrari despite my robust finance background, I found myself confronting aspects of my identity I thought long subdued.
Resuming my role as CEO should have been a triumph, a return to familiar terrain. Outwardly, I projected an air of calm confidence, but internally, doubt gnawed at me beneath the weight of relentless scrutiny. The expectations—whether from the media, the workforce, or the legacy of my father—loomed large, demanding nothing short of perfection from me.
It drove me to the point of insanity, forcing me to go back to the one thing that could restrain me from harming myself.
In moments of deep uncertainty and self-doubt, I found a haven, or perhaps escape, in revisiting an old online master account, dormant for years. The roleplay I had used the account for had been my sanctuary, and I dare say it was one for my subs too. Where roles were clear, boundaries defined, and relationships fleeting.
Countless online subs had come and gone, often crossing boundaries and growing attached or falling in love, some even stalled me or sent me pictures without me asking, prompting swift ends to our interactions. Until Isabella.
Isabella was different, achingly so. Perhaps it was because ours was not just online Bdsm but a tangible, palpable connection that began in person—a departure from my usual online relationship.
The first time I saw Isabella, I thought to myself. “Can this pretty, soft intern survive the rigors of this business? I doubt.” After which I had chuckled in pity for her.
Isabella has proven wrong. So wrong. She possessed a captivating blend of beauty and intellect, a combination that resonated deeply with what I craved, albeit buried beneath layers of corporate armor. However, hidden beneath my corporate persona. If she wasn't my employee I would have asked her on a date long ago.
But she is. The business world does not permit it. Nor does my father.
Yet I could not help but want her. In fact, anytime Thoughts of her came to my mind which is well, every time, it stirred a rare, genuine smile on my face, a fleeting respite from the relentless pressures of my professional life.
Isabella emerged from the bathroom, clad only in a short white polo, her wet hair clinging in tousled strands, and her figure revealed through the fabric, my pulse quickened. I could trace her nipples from the shirt.
I swallowed. She's so tempting.
The lingering effect of alcohol still in her movements hinted at a night of indulgence by her, raising questions in my head I dared not voice aloud.
How much had she drunk, and why had she consumed so much? Was it because of me and Elena? I know she fantasizes about me as Levi, but what I'm unsure of is whether her feelings for Levi extend beyond those fantasies, or if they are reserved solely for Mr. L. Does she love Levi or Mr L?
"I'll make you coffee," Isabella said, her laughter ringing through the room. She dashed barefoot to the kitchen, and I hurried after her, a mix of concern that she might stumble and the reluctance to be apart from her driving my steps.
The scent of lavender and rose trailed after her, enveloping the air with a distinctly feminine allure. So sexy, so tempting.
Fuck!
It's almost as if my whole life I was meant to find her. Each moment in her presence seemed to amplify my conflicted emotions, leaving me torn between desire and apprehension. I was hard for her again, and my cock got harder when Isabella squatted on the floor and searched for coffee beans in the cabinet for a few minutes. It took all my willpower not to glare at her perfectly shaped ass but I did despite my efforts.
I physically had to hold my right hand with my left to stop me from spanking her cute ass.
My cock twitched in my pants.
"Fuck! Control yourself, Levi."
I took a deep breath and shifted my gaze to the table, where I noticed the coffee beans sitting in the corner all along.
"Is this what you were looking for?" I asked, holding up the beans to get her attention.
Isabella sprang up excitedly. "I forgot I had taken them out," she slurred slightly, scanning me with a seductive smile. The alcohol seemed to have brought out a different side of her.
I gently took hold of her arms to steady her. "You're still tipsy. Making coffee while you're drunk isn't a good idea," I cautioned.
"Please," Isabella pleaded, hugging my hands to her chest. "I don't know when I'll get another chance to finish the punishment."
Her words hung in the air, and suddenly, she realized her slip. Her eyes widened, betraying her surprise. If I weren't Mr. L, I would have been thoroughly confused.
"Did you hear what I said?" She blinked, looking at me with an adorable confusion.
"I'll stay," I said, looking at her drunk but firm attitude. I can't leave her like this anyway. I promised to tuck her in bed, didn't I?
"Teepee!" she exclaimed happily. "Don't worry, I can make coffee even in my sleep," Isabella declared as she filled the grinder with coffee beans, covered it with a lid, and started grinding. "Making it while tipsy will be a piece of cake. Besides, I'm almost clear-headed now. I'm just happy you're here," she admitted, her words trailing off as she glanced down shyly. "Sorry, boss."
"It's fine," I reassured her. "Clear-headed or not, I'll stand here and watch over you."
"Okay," she shrugged, a blush creeping onto her cheeks.
I stood beside her, observing quietly. After grinding the coffee beans, she realized she hadn't boiled water yet. I could see the frustration in her eyes, silently chastising herself.
"Sorry, I forgot to boil the water," she apologized nervously, turning to find a kettle. She quickly prepared the drip kettle and filter paper, filling it with coffee grounds.
"I promise this will be the best coffee you've ever had," she said confidently once everything was set.
"We'll see," I replied, a smile tugging at my lips. I was content simply watching her go about her task.
Suddenly, she took my hands. "Let's go to my bedroom. We can wait for the water to boil there instead of standing around," Isabella suggested, and I swallowed nervously, feeling a rush of desire.