Chapter 29: Confetti Hearts and Sticky Notes

The city outside was quiet. Just the occasional car, a distant horn, the hum of electricity through streetlights.

Inside the small apartment, the storm had passed.

Katherin lay sprawled across Sebastian’s chest, her breath slowly syncing with his. Their bodies were tangled — not out of urgency now, but in that rare, perfect stillness that follows something real.

A single pink post-it was stuck to her shoulder. Another to the inside of her thigh. One clung defiantly to Sebastian’s forearm, with a half-smeared note in her handwriting that simply read:

“ALWAYS SUSPECT BOTOX.”

He chuckled softly when he noticed it, but didn’t say a word.

Katherin, meanwhile, was tracing a lazy circle on his stomach with her finger. Her hair was a complete mess. Her pajama pants were somewhere near the bookshelf. The throw blanket barely covered them, and yet she looked more relaxed than she had in weeks.

And then —

She snorted.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “Did I miss something?”

She bit her lip, tried to stop... failed miserably. “Sorry —just... your face.”

“My face?”

“When you walked into my apartment earlier tonight,” she wheezed, shaking with laughter. “You looked like you’d just walked into the conspiracy room of a very enthusiastic serial killer.”

He groaned, covering his eyes. “You did build a murder board.”

“It’s called a strategic visual investigation grid,” she said with mock offense. “And it's effective.”

He turned to face her fully, brushing a wild strand of hair behind her ear. “So... tomorrow. Do you plan on showing up to the office in your usual confetti-explosion style?”

Katherin smirked. “Why? You scared, Mr. Mason?”

“I just want to emotionally prepare.”

She kissed his collarbone, then whispered, “Let’s call it... a surprise.”

He gave her a look — equal parts suspicion and awe.

But deep down, he knew: whatever she wore, whatever chaos she brought — she’d walk into that office more powerful than ever.

And he’d be right behind her.

Even if that meant peeling off post-its from his briefcase for the next week.

---

Sebastian slowly sat up, the muscles in his back flexing as he reached for his shirt. The movement was unhurried, almost reverent — as if he didn’t quite want to break the spell of the moment, but knew he had to.

He slipped one leg into his trousers, then glanced down to button his shirt.

Katherine, still curled up in the blanket, lifted her brows.

“Well, well. Running off already, Mr. Mason? Fleeing the scene of the crime?”

He chuckled without looking up.

“Exactly. Before another bomb made of sticky notes goes off in this warzone.”

She gasped dramatically and sat up, blanket falling around her waist.

“That was rude. That’s not a warzone — that’s my creative process, my chaotic brilliance, thank you very much.”

Sebastian turned to face her, one brow raised, clearly amused. “Apologies. Your... art installation.”

“Mmm, better,” she said, folding her arms in mock offense.

Still laughing, he walked over and leaned down, brushing a kiss to her temple.

But she had other plans.

With a mischievous gleam in her eyes, she reached for the collar of his shirt and gave it a deliberate tug.

He stumbled forward, catching himself just in time with one arm on the back of the couch — the other instinctively wrapping around her waist as he fell half onto her.

Their faces were inches apart. Her breath still tasted like wine and strawberries. His like trouble.

“I’m not letting you go that easily,” she whispered against his lips.

“I haven’t had dessert yet.”

He raised a brow. “I thought we —”

She cut him off with a smirk. “No, no. I mean actual dessert. I want chocolate. Something sinfully rich. Maybe with hazelnuts. Or fudge.”

He gave her a look. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re still not wearing pants.”

He laughed again — lower this time, more relaxed than she’d ever seen him — then dropped his head to her shoulder, shaking it in surrender.

“Fine,” he murmured. “You get your chocolate. But only if you promise not to stick notes on my —”

She pressed a finger to his lips. “No promises. You're mine now, remember?”

He didn’t argue.

He kissed her again.

And somewhere on the coffee table, a pink post-it fluttered gently to the floor, catching just a sliver of moonlight.

---

The kitchen smelled like melted chocolate and trouble.

Katherine sat cross-legged on the counter, a spoon in her hand and a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. Sebastian stood by the stove, shirtless again — the apron somehow still managing to look corporate on him — as he stirred a pot of warm ganache with the kind of concentration usually reserved for spreadsheets and million-dollar deals.

“You’re seriously doing this from scratch?” she teased.

He looked over his shoulder. “I don’t do half-measures, Miss Brown.”

She licked a bit of chocolate off the spoon. “Noted. So, what’s the name of this dish? CEO Seduction à la Fudge?”

Sebastian smirked. “Try Death by Brown.”

She snorted. “That sounds like a corporate scandal.”

He turned to her with the smallest hint of chocolate on his cheek. “Well, you’ve already brought chaos into my life. Might as well add dessert.”

She laughed, then hopped off the counter and wrapped her arms around his waist from behind. “Mmm. You’re dangerous, my love.”

He stilled. Just for a second. As if time itself had paused mid-breath.

Slowly, he turned around to face her, his expression unreadable… until a soft, disbelieving smile crept onto his face.

“No one,” he said gently, “has ever called me that. In fifty-two years.”

Katherine blinked. “Really?”

He nodded. “Not once.”

She looked down, a little thrown. “Huh. I mean… I’ve never felt anything like this in twenty-six.”

Sebastian reached for her hand, lifting it to his lips. He kissed her fingers — one by one — then her wrist, then her lips, lingering there like a vow he didn’t know how to speak.

Katherine sighed against his mouth, then pulled back just enough to whisper, “We’re telling people at the office, right?”

He groaned, forehead leaning against hers. “That would be a flagrant violation of every corporate policy in existence.”

“Come on,” she grinned. “Everyone already suspects it.”

“Which is precisely why we don’t confirm anything.”

She laughed, picking up a spoon full of chocolate and slowly licking it. “Well… then HR won’t be that shocked.”

Sebastian narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re trouble.”

“And you’re addicted.”

He pulled her close again. “You have no idea.”

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