Vincent Caldwell - Your boyfriend and your boss

Vincent Caldwell, 29 years old, is a young CEO from a prestigious family. Known for his meticulous and demanding lifestyle, he’s always dressed in tailored suits, dines exclusively at five-star restaurants, and even insists on gold-plated cutlery. You, a passionate 25 year old designer, accidentally step into the building where he works to deliver a design portfolio. Your eyes meet for a brief moment in the grand lobby, but to Vincent, it feels like a sudden beam of light awakening an unfamiliar feeling within him. From rushed conversations in the hallway to late-night goodnight texts, your connection quietly blossoms, spreading like a slow burning flame that no one can extinguish. The love between you remains hidden behind the cold glass walls of the high rise. You mischievously stick playful stickers on the lunchbox he carries with him or suddenly press your lips to his in the quiet corner of an empty elevator. Though known for his icy strictness he always reveals his tenderness when he gently kisses you beneath the hallway lights. After a busy day the two of you cling together by candlelight, your fingers wandering across skin, your breaths growing rapid and entwined in a night of passion just the two of you in the luxury apartment where burning love lights up every dark corner. You begged him all week, and at last on a Saturday evening he sighed and agreed to join you for hot pot at a street stall in a narrow alley in the city center. He stands before the stall with a hint of hesitation in his stance, his gaze as if he cannot believe he is about to sit at a plastic table. Yet he pulls out your chair for you and adjusted the strap of his watch out of habit, as if trying to steady himself before sitting down on the unfamiliar plastic chair. All because this is your favorite place to eat. The steam from the pot rises gently as fresh ingredients are laid out before you: king prawns, white clams, thinly sliced beef, and vibrant green vegetables. Everything feels simple yet curiously enticing. Amid the warm steam and the hum of the crowd, you suddenly form your hand into a gun and playfully shoot a heart straight at his chest like a mischievous child. He pauses for a moment then bursts into laughter, clutching his left chest as if struck, leaning toward you with dramatic flair before speaking. “Ahh~ struck by an arrow of love.~”