When Jaskier overslept for work that fateful morning, he thought that incurring the wrath of his uptight boss would be the worst thing that would happen to him that day.

Unaware of just how truly awful his day was about to get, Jaskier set about his usual routine, albeit haphazardly and with greater speed. After dragging himself out of his cosy bed, he attempted to pull a clean shirt over his head while simultaneously brushing his teeth with little success. He managed to slip on his black leather brogues before realising he hadn't yet put on his trousers and had to start all over again. As Jaskier roughly pulled on his suit jacket, he glanced at his wristwatch and grimaced: city traffic at this time of the morning was going to be hellish. He'd be quicker just running to the office.

Before he could head into the office, however, he needed to make his daily stop at the Radiant Rooster Coffee Shop for his morning libations. He had to suppress a groan as he pushed open the glass door to find the shop already crowded with customers; by the time he picked up his and Geralt's coffee, he was going to miss his first meeting of the day.

"Jaskier!"

Just as Jaskier was about to give up and leave, he paused and craned his neck over the heaving crowd of sleep-deprived office workers and saw the dark-haired man at the counter summoning him. Jaskier smiled and waved to the barista, Mislav, and pushed his way to the front of the queue with muttered apologies. Mislav greeted Jaskier and handed him over two paper cups. "I was beginning to worry that you weren't going to show up today."

"Mislav, you are a lifesaver. I could kiss you!" Jaskier preened, blowing the barista a kiss and a licentious wink.

Mislav smiled sheepishly and waved Jaskier off as he hurried back out of the shop and towards the skyscraper where Dark Horse Publishers was located. As he hurried up the steep steps towards the main entrance, he tripped up over his own feet and instinctively threw out his right hand to break his fall, losing one of the cups in the process.

"Shit!"

Jaskier could only watch as the paper cup exploded against the stone step upon impact, sending scalding hot coffee in all directions. Jaskier clenched his teeth in pain as he wiped the coffee that had splashed across his arm onto his trouser leg, but he had no time to mourn the loss of the drink. Scrambling back to his feet, he hurried into the building, his remaining beverage still in hand. Time always seemed to slow when one was in a hurry, and Jaskier tapped his foot impatiently as the lift ascended at what felt like a glacial pace. Finally, on the 80th floor, the lift doors pinged open onto the floor of the publishing house that had been his place of work for the last three years. Jaskier stepped out and was relieved to find the mood in the busy office was jovial and relaxed.

"I take that he hasn't arrived yet," said Jaskier, marching towards his desk situated next to his friend, Olgierd. Olgierd took a generous bite out of a glazed doughnut and shook his head.

"He's not usually this late," he mumbled with his mouth full. "Maybe he's sick."

"Like we're that lucky," Jaskier scoffed, tucking the leather folder with his work schedule under his arm. Just then, his phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his trouser pocket to check his message. He had a new text from his other workmate, Shani, on their work's group chat. Clicking on the message, Jaskier sighed. "The Butcher has entered the building."

"Ah, bollocks."

Olgierd responded by looking around desperately for his paper basket to dispose of the remainder of his doughnut. When he couldn't find one, he panicked and tossed the half-eaten pastry into the top drawer of his desk and turned back to his computer screen, his cheeks still bulging with food. Evidently, the rest of the office had also received word that the boss had arrived as everyone scurried back to their desks and tried to look as though they were busy. A moment later, Geralt Haute-Bellegarde, editor-in-chief and the bane of Jaskier's existence, stepped into the bustling office.

Objectively, Geralt was very handsome. He had the sort of face that made men and women alike stop dead in their tracks: strong and defined, with a sharp jaw, chin and cheekbones like his features were moulded from granite. Pax Gernst, eat your heart out. Despite his stark white hair, Geralt's face was youthful. Jaskier privately thought that his boss rather suited having white hair—it gave him silver fox vibes. Geralt was more of a wolf than a fox though. No matter how easy on the eyes Geralt was, spending any length of time in his company was perilous. Something Jaskier had discovered on his very first day as Geralt's assistant.

Geralt's sharp amber eyes scanned the office and when they fell on Jaskier, he gave him a quick nod to summon him. Jaskier hurried over to his side and handed him the remaining cup. "Linus Pitt called after you left last night, he wants to talk to you about extending the deadline of his latest book."

"Again?" Geralt grumbled, pushing open the glass door to his corner office, Jaskier following close behind. Even though Jaskier was a lowly assistant, he counted his blessings that he got to spend so much time in this particular room. The view of the city below was spectacular, and it was the kind of office that Jaskier hoped to find himself working in one day.

Geralt sighed and sat at his desk. "Fine. Arrange for a conference call between us later today—"

"Already done," Jaskier assured him. "He's booked in to speak to you at four."

"Anything else?" asked Geralt without bothering to thank him. Jaskier opened his work schedule and cleared his throat.

"Yes, Messers Radovid and Troyden have asked to speak to you after your meeting with Emmerich Gottschalk," he continued, unperturbed. "Why do you think they want to speak to you?"

Geralt gave a careless shrug. "Probably because I managed to convince Aldert Geert to publish his next novel with us."

Jaskier gaped at him. "Really? When did this happen?"

"Last night," said Geralt nonchalantly. "I went to his apartment and spoke to him personally. It took me half the night to talk him into going with us, but in the end I managed to persuade him. That's why I was late arriving this morning, I had to go home first to shower before coming into the office."

"Wow. Congratulations, Geralt. Really, well done. I mean, securing Geert's latest novel is no small feat," said Jaskier with genuine praise. "I hear that he's notoriously difficult to negotiate with."

"If I wanted your praise, I'd have asked for it," Geralt replied coolly.

Jaskier pursed his lips and scribbled some notes into his schedule, but said nothing. He should have known better than to compliment Geralt, he always threw it back in his face. Just as Geralt was about to take a sip from his paper cup, he paused and his eyes narrowed. "Jaskier, who is Mislav and why does he want you to call him?"

Jaskier froze and looked up from his folder. "Sorry?"

Geralt held the paper cup aloft and Jaskier felt his face burn red hot as he spotted Mislav's cursive handwriting on the side of it. The phone number was covered by Geralt's hand but the little love heart at the bottom of the message was unmissable.

"W-well…" Jaskier stammered as Geralt kept his steady gaze trained on him. "That was originally my cup."

"Your cup," Geralt repeated. Geralt sniffed the contents of the cup. "And I'm drinking hot chocolate instead of my usual black coffee...why?"

"Because I spilled yours," Jaskier admitted quietly. Geralt stared at him.

"How old are you, Jaskier?"

"Twenty-five, sir."

"You are a grown man and your drink of choice is hot chocolate?" he asked flatly.

"Yes, sir."

Geralt took a sip of the cup and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Is there peppermint in this?"

"Yes, sir," Jaskier nodded before asking cautiously, "Do you like it?"

Geralt grunted and plonked the cup onto his desk before rising back to his feet. "Come on, we better get this meeting with Emmerich Gottschalk over and done with. I've got too many more important things to do today than to waste much time on the likes of him."

Jaskier sent a quick text to the group chat—"The Butcher is on the move"—before pocketing his phone again and scurrying after Geralt, making a mental note to buy Geralt his own peppermint hot chocolate tomorrow morning. When they exited his office, everyone looked as though they were busy at work, only relaxing again when Geralt was out of sight.

Jaskier glanced at Geralt a couple of times as they walked side by side across the office floor. He felt nervous and a little silly asking this again, but he mustered up his courage and cleared his throat again to get his boss's attention. "So...h-have you had the chance to read it?"

Geralt frowned. "Read what?"

"My manuscript," said Jaskier. "Have you managed to read it yet?"

"Oh. Yes, I read the first few pages."

Jaskier felt a spike of excitement rise inside of him. "And?"

"And I wasn't impressed."

Jaskier winced. "Oh...actually, can I say something?"

"No."

Jaskier ignored this curt response and pressed on. "In the three years that I've worked for you, I've read thousands of manuscripts and this is the only one I've ever given to you. I know that there is an incredible novel in there…"

"Whatever it is, now is not the time to talk about it," Geralt replied curtly, knocking twice on the varnished oak door to Emmerich's office and entering before he was invited inside.

Jaskier gritted his teeth in frustration but, as usual, he said nothing and followed Geralt inside, closing the door behind him. It was of little surprise to find Emmerich playing miniature golf in the middle of his office instead of doing any actual work. Jaskier might not be particularly fond of Geralt—his interpersonal skills were atrocious—but at least he actually did his job. Emmerich tapped the golf ball with his putter and cursed under his breath when the ball missed the hole. It was only then that he bothered to look up and smile at Geralt, who stood waiting patiently for him to finish.

"Ah! Our fearless leader and his liege!" he joked, leaning on his putter like a cane. "Please, do come in!"

Geralt stepped further into the office and looked between Emmerich and an obscenely large, decorative liquor cabinet pushed against the wall on the opposite end of the office. "Is this new?"

"Well, it's an eighth-century Temerian armoire, but yes, it is new to my office," Emmerich chuckled.

"Hmm. funny," Geralt muttered. "Emmerich, I'm letting you go."

The smarmy smile fell from Emmerich's face. "P-pardon?"

"I asked you a dozen times to close the deal on Aldert Geert, and you wouldn't do it. So, you're fired."

"I told you that it can't be done," Emmerich protested. "You know what he's like, the man is impossible to please. His requests are always too outlandish!"

"Well, that is interesting to hear, because I just got back from a night long, one-on-one negotiation with Geert, and he is in. Therefore, you are out."

Emmerich's expression quickly morphed from shock to anger. "Excuse me, but who the hell do you think you're talking to?"

"You didn't even try calling him, did you?" Geralt asked accusingly. "You figured the job was too difficult, so you didn't even bother trying. I bet you made more of an effort picking out that bloody liquor cabinet than you did trying to convince Geert to sign with us."

Emmerich brandished his putter at Geralt. "You can't fire me! I'm indispensable to this company!"

Geralt, however, didn't flinch as Emmerich pointed the metal toe of the putter at Geralt's face. Instead, he kept his cool gaze fixed on Emmerich's and retorted, "You are lazy, self-entitled, and incompetent. You getting fired has been a long time coming and you have nobody to blame but yourself. Now, I will give you two months to find another job. That way, you can tell everyone that you resigned. Don't look at me like that, Emmerich, this isn't up for discussion. That will be all."

With that, Geralt turned on his heel and left the office with Jaskier by his side, leaving a gobsmacked Emmerich staring after them. Jaskier tried and failed to suppress a smile. Okay, so Geralt was a complete arse most of the time, but that had been deliciously satisfying to witness.

"Status?" Geralt asked as they continued to walk back towards his office. Jaskier looked over his shoulder and into the large window into Emmerich's office.

"He's marching back and forth like a caged animal. Oh dear, he's got crazy eyes."

"Don't do it, Emmerich," Geralt muttered under his breath. "If you know what's good for you, don't do it…"

A moment later, Emmerich stamped out of his office onto the office floor and bellowed after Geralt, "Screw you, you poisonous bastard!"

The chatter in the office immediately died and Geralt stopped walking. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before turning to face Emmerich, who worryingly still had his golf club in hand. Emmerich, emboldened by his large, enraptured audience, puffed up his chest and pointed his putter accusingly at Geralt.

"You think that I don't know what you're doing? Sandbagging me on this Geert thing just so that you can look good to the board of directors? Because the truth is that you're threatened by me, aren't you?" he cried.

"Emmerich, do yourself a favour and stop already," Geralt replied lazily. "You're only making this worse for yourself."

"Just because you have no semblance of a life outside of this office, you think that you can treat all of us like your personal slaves. Like we're plebs: the great unwashed!" Emmerich continued to rage. "Well, you know what? I pity you, Geralt. Because you know what you're going to have on your deathbed? Nothing and no one."

Jaskier cast a sideways glance at Geralt and noticed his jaw tense at those words. He half-expected Geralt just to deck Emmerich for saying that, but instead, he said quietly but clearly, "Listen, Emmerich, and listen carefully. I didn't fire you because I'm threatened by you. I fired you because you spend more time cheating on your wife than you do working in the office. Now if you say another word, Jaskier here is going to have you thrown out on your arse."

"I am?" Jaskier stammered.

How the hell was he going to throw Emmerich out of the office? Emmerich was huge. Geralt was even bigger than Emmerich and could easily do the arse-throwing himself, so why the hell was he dragging Jaskier into this? Geralt continued as though Jaskier hadn't interrupted, "Another word, and you will be escorted off of the premises and Jaskier here will post the whole thing on that whatchamacallit...that internet app thing. Jaskier, what's it called?"

"TikTok."

"TikTok," Geralt nodded. "Is that what you want?" When Emmerich didn't answer, Geralt grinned at him. "I didn't think so. Now, I have work to do. Do us all a favour and see yourself out."

As Geralt turned his back on Emmerich for a second time, he said to Jaskier, "Have security take Emmerich's liquor cabinet out of his office and put it in the conference room."

"Will do."

"And now that Emmerich has sadly left us, I'm going to need you around this weekend to help me review the manuscripts and files he's left unfinished."

Jaskier tensed. "This weekend?"

The words left his mouth before he could stop himself and he immediately regretted it. Geralt stopped dead in his tracks and glared at Jaskier. "You have a problem with that?"

Jaskier stammered, "Well, my annual leave starts this Friday. I had planned on going home for a few days, and it's my grandmother's ninetieth birthday you see, and…You know what? It's fine! I'll just cancel it. You're actually saving me from two weeks of misery anyway. Of my mum's delicious home cooking, and being surrounded by the people that I love...I mean, there's always next year, isn't there? I hope. I'm sure my grandmother still has a few good years left in her yet."

Geralt had already started walking away before Jaskier had finished talking to him and he felt his insides wither with shame and inadequacy. Great. How the hell was he going to break it to his grandmother that he wasn't going to make it to her birthday party—again?