𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚅𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊

𝚂𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙱𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚢

♛
1998
Los Angeles
Word Count: 6.5k

You were fast asleep in the luxurious bed of the hotel suite you shared with Michael. The cool linen sheets caressed your bare skin, and you lay sprawled across the mattress, the comforter now pushed down to your waist, leaving your back exposed to the softly lit room. The pillow that carried Michael's scent was nestled in your arms, its familiar warmth bringing a sense of comfort even in his absence. The air conditioning hummed steadily, sending a cool breeze through the room that contrasted with the heat radiating from your body.

Michael had left early that morning to attend a meeting about planning to stage a benefits concert in the coming year, He insisted that you stay behind, not only to shield you from the prying eyes of the media and the frenzy of his fame but also to protect your identity. After all, you were his secret, his sugar baby—a role that demanded discretion.

The first time you met Michael was during a late shift at an upscale restaurant in Los Angeles. You remember the way he carried himself—charming and polite, just as everyone always described him. That night, you were lucky enough to be assigned as his server. He engaged you in conversation, asking about your studies, your plans for the future. His curiosity felt genuine, and it caught you off guard.

As you lay peacefully in bed, the world outside your suite faded away, leaving only the soft embrace of sleep and the distant hum of the air conditioning. Unbeknownst to you, Michael was returning from his day out. The corridors of the hotel were quiet, his footsteps nearly silent on the plush carpet as he approached your door. He slid the key into the lock, turning it with a soft, almost inaudible click. The door swung open, revealing the stillness of the suite. It was too quiet for his liking. Normally, you would have been there, running into his arms, your laughter filling the room as he swept you off your feet.

But today, there was no warm greeting, no eager embrace. He pulled the key from the lock and shut the door behind him, securing it with a gentle twist. His eyes scanned the main room, searching for any sign of you. The only trace of your presence was the satin black robe with his initials embroidered on it, casually draped over the sofa from the night before. He shook his head with a smile, a low chuckle escaping his lips. "That girl," he murmured to himself, affection coloring his voice as he made his way across the suite.

"Baby, I'm back, and I—" His words trailed off as he stepped into the bedroom and found you still asleep. The sight of your tranquil form, sprawled out on the bed, made him pause. "You're still sleeping," he whispered softly, more to himself than to you.

He carefully closed the door behind him, the soft click barely disturbing the quiet of the room. From the pocket of his blazer, he pulled out a small black velvet box, a secret he had been eager to share with you. He approached the bed with quiet steps, sitting on the edge with the care of someone who knew just how deeply you slept.