To Whom It May Concern (This Is An HR Violation) - Part 1
Gorgeous art by @3-aem on tumblr and twitter
You are fighting for your life to finalize the Osaka project logistics. Gojo Saturo is fighting to get you to look at him. So he shows up at your hotel room door, determined to ruin your professional reputation, with champagne, zero boundaries, and a very inappropriate bathrobe.
Series Masterlist
genre: rich heir Gojo x reader, coky billionaire very on brand Gojo, cold-ish reader, office AU, coworkers to lovers (?), workplace romance (?), he fell first and harder, hotel room shenanigans, bath shenanigans, HR is crying, mutual pining (over her dead body).
warnings: semi-toxic relationship, inappropriate workplace behavior, Gojo is full of red flags if anyone behaves like that- run away, sexual activity of various types, also in a bath. also, a lot of nonsense business/corporate talk that makes no sense.
word count: 2.5k
a/n: almost three months since I last posted something... we can say it's been long overdue. Hopefully, this marks the return of me writing ☺️ This part is the shortest, an introduction to them and their dynamics. The next part is ready and will probably be out next week. Have fun and have a lovely weekend 🥰
The first time you realize something is wrong is when no one stops you on your way to his office.
That alone should’ve been a warning.
Normally, getting anywhere near the executive floor required at least two approvals, one polite interrogation, and a lingering sense that you didn’t belong there.
But for you, though, the assistant at the front desk barely glances up when you give your name.
“Go ahead,” she says, like this is routine.
It’s kinda is at this point.
You hesitate for half a second outside the door, large, polished, dark wood, intimidating in that effortless, expensive way everything up here is.
Then, from inside, before you get to knock–
“Come in.”
You push the door open and step into the office of Gojo Satoru.
Floor-to-ceiling windows. Minimalist decor. A desk that probably costs more than your rent for a year. It smells like wood, and leather, and clean linen, and..
And him. Leaning back in his chair like he owns not just the room, but the entire building.
Which, technically, he kind of does. Well, his grandpa does.
He looks up when you enter.
And then he smiles.
It’s immediate. Unfiltered. Like he’s been waiting for this.
“Well,” he says, voice light, almost indulgent. “This is a surprise.”
You blink, a bit confused. “I had a meeting scheduled.”
“I know,” His smile stretches just slightly. “Still a surprise.”
“A good one,” he adds quickly. Too quickly, too childish for this whole setting.
You clear your throat, stepping forward with your tablet clutched just a little tighter than necessary. “I wanted to go over the projections for the Osaka branch before the trip.”
“Mm.” He gestures lazily to the chair across from him. “Sit.”
You do.
You start talking.
Numbers, forecasts, timelines - things you know. Things you’re good at. Fuck that, things that you excel at. This is why they hired you.
But it’s… difficult.
Because he’s watching you.
Not in the distracted, half-listening, one-eye-on-their-phone way most executives do. Not even in the sharp, critical way he watches other employees in meetings.
No, this is different.
Focused.
Interested.
Happy.
Like you’re saying something far more entertaining than quarterly projections.
You falter, just for a second.
His smile widens.
“Don’t stop on my account,” he says. “I’m enjoying this.”
“…the report?” you ask, skeptical, narrowing your eyes slightly.
“Oh, yeah,” he says like it’s a joke. “Among other things.” He adds low, like a whispered confession.
You stare at him.
He doesn’t look away.
Something warm, and dangerously close to flustered, creeps up your neck. But you shake it off.
Like you always do with him.
Because this is not why you were hired.
Just to clear things up – he hasn’t interviewed you, you haven’t even met him till months after you started working here. It was a connection you had, who knew his uncle, and recommended you for the job. This whole - whatever this is - was not part of your way in this company. And definitely not how you climbed up to this position.
You worked hard and diligently, like you always do, and got to this position. And only then were you formally introduced to each other.
He’s just your colleague. Well, not exactly. He’s in a higher position than you, but he’s not your boss. It’s just that your department needs to be coordinated with what the division he oversees works on, and there’s no escape from working on projects together.
Especially one like the huge, important one you’re really trying to conclude all the details for right now.
You look back down at your tablet. “As I was saying, the Osaka rollout is projected to-”
“You’re coming on the trip, right?”
You pause again. “…yes,” you say slowly. “I’m part of the team assigned to–”
“Good.”
You look up.
He’s still leaning back, still relaxed, but there’s something a little more intent in his gaze now.
“It’ll be more fun that way.”
You frown. “It’s a work trip.”
“Is it?” he tilts his head slightly, like he’s genuinely considering that. “I was thinking of it more as a… getaway with some light administrative obligations.”
You almost laugh.
Almost.
“Some of us actually have work to do.”
“So do I,” he says easily.
You glance around his office. “Right.”
He grins, completely unbothered. “You wound me.”
You don’t respond to that.
You try, very hard, to steer the conversation back to the data you need from him.
“So, you see,” you try to get his attention back to the graph on your tablet.
And he leans in on his elbows, over his desk, too close for it to be normal. Why is he so freakishly huge that he can just hover above this giant desk like that? You ignore the smell of his delicate, expensive perfume as it gets more intense the closer he gets.
You clear your throat before you try to continue talking, and he seems to catch on that. A gleeful grin spread across his face. But you don’t react, and continue to talk about financial performances and revenue figures.
And through it all, he keeps looking at you like that.
Like this is the highlight of his day.
The trip starts early.
Too early.
You go to the office to close some last-minute details before heading to the airport.
You’re running on barely enough sleep and airport coffee when you arrive at the hotel. The kind of place where everything is covered in polished marble and soft lighting.
Your room, while not extravagant, is still far nicer than anything you’d book for yourself. You barely have time to take it in before your schedule pulls you into meetings, briefings, and an endless string of responsibilities. You jump from an introductory meeting with the local team to location visits to late-night analysis over budgets and management decisions.
You see him occasionally.
Across conference tables. In passing conversations. Once in the lobby, where he’s surrounded by people who look like they’d rather be anywhere else than under his scrutiny. Another time at the local offices, stringing out tasks with military-level detailing to a team of people in suits.
He’s different there.
Sharper. Colder. Expectations high, patience thin.
You watch him dismantle a proposal with precise, effortless critique, and the person presenting it looks like they might evaporate on the spot.
On day three, you sit in your room after another exhausting day, when your phone pings.
Gojo Satoru [09:17 pm]: I barely saw you around
Gojo Satoru [09:17 pm]: if not for this idiotic proposal meeting, I wouldn’t know you’re here
You [09:18 pm]: some of us have work to do
Gojo Satoru [09:18 pm]: you like saying that
Gojo Satoru [09:18 pm]: I also have work to do
And you know that he does. Probably even more than you.
You see the three dots appear and disappear a couple of times.
Gojo Satoru [09:20 pm]: but it’s important to take breaks
You [09:20 pm]: Indeed. Good night then.
Again, the three dots appear and disappear. Very unlike the man you saw in the last few days, in a sharp suit and sharper tone. He doesn’t seem like someone who would hesitate about anything.
Gojo Satoru [09:21 pm]: come hang with me in the lobby
Gojo Satoru [09:21 pm]: it’s finally empty
The hotel lobby is constantly full of the company people, pacing through the space while talking tightly into a phone. Groups of people huddle together over a tablet, making multi-million dollar decisions. So full that one might think that it’s owned by the company. Well, it actually might be, who knows?
You [09:22 pm]: what for?
Gojo Satoru [09:22 pm]: I’ll think of something
You roll your eyes despite yourself.
You don’t say yes.
You also don’t say no.
You just go through your night routine and order room service.
The next two days are almost worse.
You have barely a minute to rest.
Or eat.
Or breath.
So much so that you almost, almost, don’t notice him.
Of when he walks into a room.
Of the way conversations shift around him.
Of how easily he commands attention without ever raising his voice.
And, more annoyingly –
Of the way his gaze keeps finding you.
Across meeting tables.
Through glass walls.
In passing moments that are just a second too long to be accidental.
You ignore it.
You want to believe you’re very good at being unbothered.
It’s late again by the time you’re heading back up.
You get into the elevator already mentally planning to take a bath, order food, and watch something that you’ll probably fall asleep not even half through.
You lean back against the elevator wall as the doors are closing, when a hand slips in between–
And he steps in.
Of course he does.
You don’t react immediately.
“Busy day?” he asks, like he didn’t watch half of it unfold.
You exhale softly. “You were there.”
“Mm.” He leans back against the wall beside you, hands in his pockets. “Still. I like hearing you say it.”
You glance at him. “Why?”
“Because you always sound a little annoyed.”
“I am annoyed.”
He smiles, pleased. “I know.”
The elevator doors close.
For a moment, it’s quiet again.
“You didn’t come to the lobby.”
You stiffen, just slightly. “I didn’t say I would.”
“You didn’t say you wouldn’t.”
You turn your head, giving him a look. “That’s not the same thing.”
“It is if you’re optimistic.”
“You’re not optimistic,” you say flatly.
“Yes, I am.” He objects with a pout.
You don’t have a response for that.
So you look forward again.
The numbers tick upward till they stop.
Your floor. You step out.
You expect him to stay in the elevator.
He doesn’t.
Of course, he doesn’t.
He follows you into the hallway like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
“You’re going the wrong way,” you say, glancing back at him.
“My room’s upstairs.”
“Exactly.”
He doesn’t elaborate.
You sigh, stopping near your door. “What do you want, Gojo?”
He tilts his head slightly, studying you like this is an interesting question. “Nothing complicated.”
You don’t say anything, just look at him, patience running low.
His gaze flicks briefly above your head to your door, then back to you.
“You look less busy now.”
“I’m done for the day.”
“Good.” A pause. “So am I.”
You narrow your eyes slightly.
“What are your plans for tonight?” he asks, and excitement glimmers in his eyes.
“I don’t know?” You don’t have the patience to see where this conversation is heading.
He still looks at you like a puppy, and you see him about to suggest something you definitely don’t have the energy for–
“I was going to take a bath,” you blurt out quickly. Just to say something before he does.
That was a mistake. A tiny fracture in your armor. The kind that shouldn’t mean anything.
A small, quiet pause where neither of you moves.
His eyes sharpen.
Just a tad.
He smiles.
Slow.
“Oh, sounds nice.”
“Yeah, you should try it too,” you add without too much thought.
“Mm.”
You turn away from him and unlock your door, pushing it open just enough to slip inside.
“Good night, Gojo.”
“Mm.”
You start to close it.
“See you,” he says before you fully close it.
You stare at your closed door for a second.
Then shake your head.
Ridiculous.
Ten minutes later, your phone buzzes.
Gojo Satoru [10:08 pm]: still awake?
The fuck?
You [10:09 pm]: yes
Gojo Satoru [10:09 pm]: good
Pause. You don’t know if he’s expecting you to reply to that, because you won’t.
Gojo Satoru [10:11 pm]: you said you were taking a bath
You stare at the screen. What does he want from you?!
You [10:11 pm]: I said I was going to
Gojo Satoru [10:11 pm]: same thing
Another pause-
Gojo Satoru [10:15 pm]: so…
Gojo Satoru [10:15 pm]: what do you say about helping me with the bath suggestion?
Uh? He needs help with how to run a bath? Can’t he call room service to set it up for him or something?
Rich people are weird… They really can’t do anything alone.
You [10:16 pm]: okay?
You expect to receive another message about how to turn on the tap or how to use bath bubbles. You toss your phone onto the bed, shaking your head as you head toward the bathroom to fill up your own bath.
The water is running for not even five minutes when there’s a knock at your door.
Anna? coming to take back her laptop?
You don’t give it much thought when you open the door–
And there he is.
Barefoot.
Hair messy and slightly damp.
Wearing nothing but a white bathrobe.
Holding a bottle of champagne like this is perfectly normal.
You just stare at him.
“…what,” you say slowly, “is this?”
He glances down at himself, then back at you. “You said ‘come by.’”
“I did not say–”
He hums, unbothered. “Felt implied.”
“It was not implied.”
“Agree to disagree.”
You pinch the bridge of your nose.
He steps past you anyway.
Like he belongs there.
You turn, incredulous. “You can’t just…walk into my room dressed - undressed - like that!”
“I knocked,” he points out, already moving inside, opening drawers and closets. “You let me in. That feels like an invite to me.”
“That is not what that means.”
He laughs softly. “Well, I’m already here.”
“So?” you ask, incredulous.
He turns to look at you, a big smile on his face. “Let’s make the best of it.”
“Absolutely not.”
He straightens up, and the robe is sliding off his shoulder, revealing more of his chest than you ever planned to see. Is he seriously wandering around wearing nothing but a bathrobe? Unbelievable.
You definitely don’t notice how surprisingly tuned he looks underneath.
Yet he definitely caught your gaze drifting. Because when you look back up at him, he’s already smirking.
“Come on, loosen up a bit.”
“You must be kidding me,” you’re furious now. “Loosen up?! Easy for you to say.”
He lifts the bottle in his hand, causing the robe to completely slide off his shoulders and almost all the way down to his impressive sculpted torso.
“That's why we have the champagne!” He smiles brightly like he’s a genius and you’re an idiot. And you probably are, because for a nano second you actually consider it–
Loosen up just for a moment.
Some champagne.
A bath.
Him.
…
A faint mechanical click.
The lock.
Turning.
The door opens.
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