Rebate King: Every Beauty I Spoil Makes Me a Billionaire

”My sweet Maya,” Stan murmured, brushing his thumb tenderly across her flushed cheek. ”I told you I’d convince you.”

She blinked, the lingering warmth of his mouth still tingling on hers, as the realization sank in: she had just agreed to let him invest in the company she had deliberately structured to keep him out.

Her lips formed another adorable pout. ”That was a trick, Stan.”

”That was negotiation,” he replied, voice rich with affection.

”You kissed me into agreeing.”

”You agreed,” he said softly, eyes sparkling with amusement and something far deeper.

”Under duress.”

”Under the most pleasant circumstances imaginable.” He leaned in again, pressing a feather-light kiss to the corner of her mouth, then another to her temple. ”And you liked it.”

She wanted to argue. The words were already forming. But she could feel the shift inside herself, the quiet certainty that pushing further would only dim the warmth between them, and she didn’t want that. Not when being outmaneuvered by Stan felt less like defeat and more like surrendering to something inevitable and beautiful.

She let the argument go.

”Fine,” she said softly, a small, rueful laugh escaping her. ”But I want it structured properly. Real investment. Real equity. Real returns. Quarterly reports. Everything above board.”

”Of course.” His fingers traced her jaw with exquisite gentleness. ”I was never going to insult you with anything less. I just needed you to accept it. Don’t worry about paying back though”

She studied him for a long moment, heart full and slightly overwhelmed.

”You’re unfair, Stan,” she whispered.

”I’m fair,” he countered, smiling as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

”You’re unfair.” Her voice was fond now, almost dreamy. ”I had a whole argument prepared.”

”I know. It was a very good argument.”

”And you destroyed it in eight minutes.”

He chuckled, low and warm, and pressed another kiss to her lips, this one slower, lingering, filled with quiet promise.

”Some things,” he murmured against her mouth, ”are simply meant to be.”

A few minutes later, their food arrived.

The waiter set the plates down with quiet efficiency. After all she recognized that the couple in the corner booth had been in the middle of an important conversation and was now ready to eat.

The lamb shanks were generously plated, resting on saffron rice alongside roasted root vegetables. Steam curled upward, carrying the rich aromas of slow-braised meat, warm spices, and the deep, wine-dark sauce.

Stan’s expression brightened the moment his plate touched the table.

He hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

The day had wrung every ounce of energy from him. First had come three hours of the most intense pain he’d ever experienced. Then five more hours while every impurity in his body was purged at the cellular level. After that had come a long shower, clean clothes, and now dinner.

The transformation had left his body running at full tilt. His metabolism, already heightened by the system’s earlier enhancements, was demanding fuel with unmistakable urgency.

Looking at the largest dish on the menu, he found himself wondering whether it would actually be enough.

He picked up his fork. Maya watched him with quiet amusement.

”You seem really hungry.”

”I am.”

She smiled. ”No, I mean really hungry.”

”It’s been a long day.”

”You skipped lunch, didn’t you?”

”I did.”

”Why?”

He considered the question for a beat before answering. ”Something today burned through everything I’d eaten at breakfast.”

It wasn’t a lie. It just wasn’t an explanation.

She gave him a sidelong look.

It was the same look she’d worn in the car, the one that said she’d noticed another inconsistency and was quietly filing it away alongside his unusually radiant skin, his different scent, and his sudden willingness to order something new.

She let it go. For now. She picked up her own fork.

”You know,” she said, ”you’d make an excellent anonymous source.”

”Though you going for cosmetic company is a bit confusing since you study and are more interested in acting.”

”Well, if things goes well, I might discard acting entirely. Though I’m just thinking too much I’ve not even graduated yet, but you, you have the networth of an entire family as a university student how crazy is that...” She smiled.

Stan shrugged, ”Well with your interrogative questions and actions I can’t tell you’d make a good journalist too, the perfect jack of all trades...”

”Well you’re right, I’ve always wanted to be a journalist since I was a kid, sadly one sometimes is forced to take a different path from their dream. But still, even though I’m no journalist, I still have their instincts and you’re going to be the death of my journalistic instincts.”

Stan shrugged and she laughed, shaking her head.

”Exactly my point.”

With that, they finally turned their attention to the food.

For a little while, conversation gave way to the simple pleasure of a well-earned meal.

The lamb was extraordinary.

Stan ate with the focused efficiency of a man whose body was reclaiming everything the day had taken from it. What would have been a generous portion for most people disappeared from his plate with remarkable speed.

By the time he was halfway through, Maya had stopped eating altogether.

She rested her fork against her plate and watched him. ”...How are you not full yet?”

He swallowed another bite before answering. ”I told you. It’s been a long day.”

She glanced at what remained of his meal. ”It must have been an enormous day.”

”It was.”

She shook her head, smiling to herself, and returned to her own dinner.

Even then, every so often, she’d glance back across the table.

There was something oddly endearing about the way he ate, direct, efficient, completely without pretense. It reminded her of how he’d played basketball: every movement purposeful, nothing wasted.

Conversation gradually wandered into lighter territory.

Maya began telling him about a Korean romance film she’d watched the night before.

”I wasn’t expecting much from it,” she admitted, ”and then it completely caught me off guard.”

She described one scene in particular, lingering less on the dialogue than on the way it had been shot, the framing, the pacing, the silence between the characters. It was the kind of analysis only someone who lived and breathed filmmaking naturally slipped into.