The Ceo's possession: claiming his chaos
A confused security guard opened it to reveal a delivery guy drowning in five enormous neon takeout bags.
Lucas’s eye twitched. “This is not a service entrance for… fast food.”
“It is today,” Ariana said cheerfully, pulling out a steaming container. “I ordered Thai, pepperoni pizza, rocky road ice cream, and a case of the cheapest Prosecco available. Fuel for a fake marriage.”
Lucas stared at the pile of greasy bags on his million-dollar marble island like they were biohazards. “You ordered… pizza,” he said in a tone of deep offense.