Kellan's Dilemma

The oppressive silence of the dimly lit office weighed heavy on Kellan Sterling. The clock on his wall ticked past eight in the evening. He sat perfectly still at his massive mahogany desk, resting his heavy chin against his clenched fist. A harsh breath escaped his lips.

"Fuck!" Kellan gritted his teeth, his voice echoing in the empty room.

For three agonizing days, the vivid image of the mysterious girl in the sapphire blue dress had relentlessly invaded his mind. She had kissed him, shoved a five-dollar bill into his shirt pocket, and vanished through the hotel lobby doors. Now, her face ruined his focus on the quarterly corporate reports sitting ignored on his desk. He shifted his weight, leaning onto his other fist, desperate to settle his racing thoughts. The situation baffled him. It made no logical sense.

Back in his college years, doctors had handed him a formal diagnosis: selective erectile dysfunction. His mother had dragged him to top-tier medical specialists after realizing her son showed zero interest in dating and never woke up with morning wood. They hooked him up to monitors, ran extensive tests, and examined his penis and testicles. The medical consensus was unanimous. His body was in peak physical condition. He had the stamina and health of a racehorse. Yet, he never had a boner. Not once.

The doctors prescribed him Sildenafil and other heavy medications, but the pills required baseline sexual arousal to work. He couldn't force attraction. Just last week, his sister dragged him to an exclusive underground lingerie show, convinced that raw visual stimulation would fix his problem. Gorgeous models paraded down the runway in nothing but sheer strings. They practically shoved their bare breasts and exposed pussies in his face, casting aggressive glances and desperate, flirtatious smiles his way.

The result was a total failure. His dick remained a dead, limp weight. He felt no heat, no desire, nothing but pure disgust at their aggressive advances.

Then came the hotel lobby three nights ago. A complete stranger grabbed his jaw and mashed her soft lips against his. In a span of seconds, a violent rush of blood pooled in his groin. He sprouted a throbbing, rock-hard erection that strained the zipper of his tailored pants. A single kiss from a girl he didn't even know had cured a lifelong medical anomaly.

Why her? His analytical brain spun in circles, unable to process the mystery.

A tentative knock shattered the silence.

Kellan snapped his head up, his posture instantly straightening. His assistant, Merrick, pushed the heavy door open and stepped into the dim office.

"It's already late, Merrick," Kellan said, clearing his throat to mask his internal frustration. "You can go home. I can finish up here on my own."

A brief wave of guilt washed over Kellan. He had spent the last hour obsessing over a mysterious girl while his loyal assistant waited outside.

"Ah, Mr. Sterling," Merrick said, walking straight toward the massive desk. He carefully placed a thick manila folder right in the center of the polished wood. "I took the liberty of investigating the girl who kissed you three nights ago. Her name is Liana Monroe."

Kellan stared at the beige cardboard. His jaw tightened.

Merrick tapped the folder with a proud grin. "Every single detail you need to know about her life is meticulously documented inside this file." Noticing his boss's stoic, unreadable expression, Merrick puffed out his chest and elaborated. "I figured you were clearly distracted by the girl. Knowing your busy schedule, you might not have the time to look into her yourself."

Merrick smiled confidently, blind to the shifting atmosphere in the room. "She is currently unemployed. I've been thinking, sir. We have been having problems with the attendant at your private penthouse. Why not hire her to do the job? Sure, she lacks experience in this specific field, but—"

"What makes you think I want to know about her?" Kellan's voice dropped to a lethal, freezing pitch.

Merrick froze. His confident smile cracked.

"Distracted?" Kellan stood up, towering over the desk. His dark eyes locked onto his assistant. "Whatever gave you the audacity to assume I am distracted, Merrick? I simply have many things to deal with, including my family affairs."

Merrick's face went pale. He swallowed hard, a sudden wave of regret crashing over him. He had known his boss for years and felt certain the man was troubled by the girl in the blue dress, but the sheer anger radiating from Kellan told a different story.

"Forgive me, Mr. Sterling," Merrick stammered, his heart hammering against his ribs. He bowed his head low. "I—I assumed wrong. I won't do it again."

"You damn right, you should never!" Kellan slammed the side of his fist against the table. "I am not interested in that girl, nor will I be interested in any other woman! Do you understand that? I have a massive corporation to run. Thousands of employees rely on me for their daily survival. I leave zero time in my schedule to entertain women!"

Kellan leaned forward, his glare unrelenting. "You better keep that in your head, Merrick."

"Yes, sir! Yes, sir!" Merrick bowed his head so low he nearly touched his knees, his voice frantic with desperate apology. "I promise, I won't do it again."

"Now leave, before I fire you on the spot. Be here at seven in the morning tomorrow," Kellan commanded ruthlessly.

"Thank you, sir. I will take my leave now." Desperate to fix his mistake, Merrick hurriedly reached out to grab the thick folder off the desk to dispose of it.

"What do you think you are doing?"

Merrick's hand hovered an inch over the file. He looked up, meeting Kellan's piercing, furious eyes.

"Uh... I—I was going to throw the file away, sir," Merrick squeaked.

Kellan's face formed into a deeper, terrifying frown. He spoke in a low, threatening tone. "Do you think I am incapable of throwing the file in the trash myself? Are you making assumptions again about what I can and cannot do?"

"No, sir! Definitely not!" Merrick instantly retreated, throwing both hands up in the air in absolute surrender. "I'm sorry again, Mr. Sterling. I'll leave right now."

Merrick spun on his heel and fled the room in sheer terror, shutting the heavy door tight behind him.

Left completely alone, Kellan sank back into his leather chair. His dark eyes immediately glued themselves to the forbidden folder resting on the desk. He sat perfectly still, listening to the silence of the hallway. After concluding that Merrick was truly gone and the coast was clear, he lunged forward.

He greedily snatched the documents and flipped the cover open, his eyes obsessively scanning the printed text.

*Name: Liana Monroe.*

*Age: 24 years old.*

*Education: Bryce University. Taking media studies on a full academic scholarship.*

Kellan traced his finger down the page. He cross-referenced her current academic load with her age. She was twenty-four but had yet to finish a standard sophomore semester. He scanned her employment history. Waitress. Cleaner. Cashier. Piecing together her brutal academic load and endless string of jobs, Kellan realized the truth. Liana was deliberately juggling exhausting work and school just to survive. She took fewer classes each semester to buy herself the time needed to earn rent money.

A strange tension gripped his chest. He eagerly grabbed the corner of the paper, flipping to the second page to consume more details about her life.

The office door abruptly swung wide open.

"Ah, Mr. Sterling, your college professor called and said—"

Merrick stood completely frozen in the doorway.

Kellan froze in his chair.

For one agonizing second, they stared at each other. Kellan held Liana Monroe's file wide open, caught red-handed by his assistant.

Panic hijacked Kellan's brain. He hurriedly tossed the file into the air. The folder hit the floor, scattering Liana's precious documents all over the carpet.

"I was..." Kellan cleared his throat, adjusting his tie with forced stoicism. "I was throwing it away."

Merrick blinked. His eyes darted from the scattered papers on the floor back up to his boss. Unquestioning and eager to survive the night, Merrick chose to play along. "Um... Right. Of course, Mr. Sterling. As I was saying, your former college professor called and asked for a favor. He wondered if you could give him a callback."

Kellan leaned back, pretending not to care about the mess. "I see. I will call him. Thank you, Merrick. You can leave now."

"Thank you, Mr. Sterling." Merrick took a step backward toward the hallway, but his gaze drifted down to the scattered papers again. He shifted his weight, hesitantly offering, "Do you want me to clean that up and throw it for you, sir?"

Kellan shot him an icy, murderous stare.

"Or not," Merrick immediately retracted, grabbing the door handle. He acted to leave, but a reckless urge overtook his common sense. He peeked his head back inside, pointing a shaking finger toward the mahogany desk. "Sir... um... just in case you forgot. Your trash bin? It's located right under your desk. Not in the middle of the floor."

A chilling, suffocating air engulfed the room.

Kellan's piercing glare threatened to bore holes directly through Merrick's skull. He gripped the armrests of his chair, his voice dropping to a lethal growl. "Do you want to get fired?! Leave!"

Merrick did not need to be told twice. He abandoned the door handle and sprinted down the corridor, finally fleeing the building for the evening.