Falling for the Boss

Chapter 2: Fragments of That Night

The fifteenth anniversary of Solaris Games was the kind of event that promised glitter and giddy indulgence—an open bar, a rooftop view of the city skyline, and a promise that the CEO himself, the reclusive Xiao Nai, would make an appearance.

Lee Ziya didn’t plan to stay long. She never did at company functions. A plate of finger food, a polite smile, and she’d usually slip out before the music turned obnoxious and coworkers started dancing like they’d forgotten tomorrow existed. She preferred her corner desk, her quiet coding hours, and the comfort of not being noticed.

But tonight, the rooftop pulsed with lights and low music, and the crowd had doubled in number. Ziya’s cubicle mate, Zhou Chen—a walking energy drink of a human—was practically vibrating.

“Come on, Ziya! Eat something. At least pretend you’re having fun. This food ain’t cheap.” He nudged her shoulder, balancing three canapé skewers on a napkin. “And look who’s here. The Xiao Nai, in the flesh. Do you think he even remembers our names?”

Ziya looked up just as a soft hush swept across the gathering. There he was. Xiao Nai, tall and pristine in a charcoal suit, moved through the crowd like the ghost of a storm—quiet but crackling with presence. It was rare to see him out of his glass-walled office, rarer still to see him without the shield of a laptop screen or board meeting table.

He hadn’t smiled. Not even once.

Zhou Chen continued to whisper conspiratorially, “He hasn’t spoken much since... you know. Since his wife—Jiali. Complications during labor. Tragic. People say he hasn’t let anyone into his life since.”

Ziya turned her gaze away. It wasn’t her place to know or speculate. But somehow, grief clung to him like another tailored layer over his suit—neatly pressed, but unmistakably heavy.

Hours slipped by. Champagne disappeared. Colleagues got louder. The music surged.

Ziya found herself alone near the edge of the rooftop, half a glass of punch in hand, watching the city blink below. Somewhere behind her, cheers erupted over a drinking game. She sighed.

“Not enjoying yourself?”

She startled. Xiao Nai stood beside her, his own glass barely touched.

“I’m... not great at parties,” she answered, her voice quieter than intended.

He nodded slowly, eyes fixed on the skyline. “Neither am I.”

Silence stretched between them—not awkward, just... fragile.

“You work in R&D, right?”

Ziya turned, surprised he knew. “Yes. Backend systems.”

“I remember your name.” His tone was even. “Lee Ziya. You wrote the AI integration module for Project Helix. Projecto Zita too”

Her throat dried. “That was a team effort.”

“You led the framework.” He sipped his drink. “You work hard. Quietly.”

Ziya wasn’t sure how to respond. Praise from a CEO was rare. Praise from this CEO—unheard of.

Something in the night felt heavier after that. Or maybe it was the way his gaze lingered a second too long, the way his shoulders sagged slightly like the world had finally caught up with him.

Time blurred.

At some point, they ended up at the bar again. Then in the hotel lobby where Nebula had booked several floors. Xiao Nai looked less like a titan of industry and more like a man trying to forget something he could never outrun.

“Just one drink too many,” he said, almost apologetically.

Ziya should’ve left. She knew she should.

But grief and loneliness were intoxicating in their own ways.

One night. That was all it was meant to be.

The rest came in fragments.

A hotel room door clicking shut. The feel of warm breath on her collarbone. A sigh in the dark that wasn’t hers. Clothes discarded like burdens. A soft gasp. A heartbeat in her ear.

Then—

Pain.

And a voice in the darkness: “Jiali...”

Ziya’s eyes opened, her soul plummeting.

He wasn’t even looking at her.

And maybe that was what hurt the most.

---

Ziya tried to pull back. “You should lie down, Mr. Xiao—”

His lips found hers before she could finish.

She wasn’t drunk.

But she wasn’t sober either. Not in heart, not in judgment.

He smelled like cold cedar and rain. And he held her like a man chasing something he had lost a long time ago.

She should’ve stopped him. She didn’t.

Not when his voice, broken and low, whispered her name like a plea. Not when his forehead pressed against hers, and he said, “Just for a moment, let me forget.”

The world went quiet.

And by morning, everything shattered.

Xiao Nai sat up slowly in the hotel bed, head pounding like a cruel metronome. His vision swam for a second before adjusting to the dim light. The clock read 6:32 AM.

The bed beside him was empty. But the pillow held the shape of someone recently there.

And on the sheets...

Blood.

His breath hitched.

He stood up quickly, wincing. Flashes came in fragments — the rooftop, eyes like galaxies, the taste of someone’s lips he didn’t recognize until too late.

He looked around.

A woman’s phone charm lay forgotten on the floor. Tiny blue sakura beads.

His stomach twisted.

He wanted to remember.

Needed to remember.

Because something in him said this wasn’t just a stupid mistake.

And deep down, he already knew who it was.