Chapter Text
Life at Fatui Corp. wasn't so bad. Sure, his colleagues weren't always the best conversation partners and the deadlines could eat someone alive, but the pay was very good and headquarter was close enough that he could pick up Teucer and Tonia after school everyday.
And to Childe, that was good enough.
Now, of course, it could be better. Not by throwing Dottore into a therapist office so he'd learn how to communicate better or telling Rosalyne that she could still get her points across without being the embodiment of sarcasm—though those things would be well-appreciated. Instead, Childe wished their CEO would just have a life outside of work!
He had heard all these stories about those at the top of the corporate food chains never touching a piece of paper in their entire life and just lounged around in their billion-dollar mansions—And gosh, did he wish that was Pierro.
Instead of doing those things, he was always at work. Always the first to show up (even earlier than the receptionists) and always the last to leave (even later than the custodians and stressed college interns). And as one of the few working directly under the man, Childe needed to come in early too and needed to be ready at all times and it was getting exhausting. It really was just his luck that his boss was one of those people whose only purpose in life was their work.
So, when Rosalyne suggested a "little bet," he didn't think much of it. But by now, Childe was sure he would rake in banks by the end of the year.
The proposal was simple. In one year, if Pierro had no clear romantic involvement, the winner receives a paycheck worth 5% their annual salary. And vice versa.
It was a pretty stupid bet, if he was going to be honest. So stupid that not even Sandrone and Arlecchino sided with Rosalyne, leaving the blonde woman to be the only believer of their CEO's potential as a romantic man.
Typically, he would be suspicious of her confidence. But he sincerely doubted she could pull any string to make this mountain of a man suddenly turn around and blow kisses at another person.
So, it was easy money.
Until now, that was.
It was a beautiful day. Sunny. Breezy. The birds were chirping. And the interns in his groups finally understood the difference between "reply" and "reply all" when emailing. He was in the middle of planning a park hangout with his siblings, when a commotion caught his ears.
There, in the reception area, stood a woman. Beautiful and elegant in her black suit and, quite frankly, ethereal white hair, which was tied loosely at the end with a red ribbon.
She appeared the typical rich business partners that waltz through their doors everyday, and given the receptionist's nervous expression, she was here without an appointment.
"Miss, I am terribly sorry. But if you do not have an appointment, then I'm afraid Mr. Pierro is unavail—"
"Hello, hello!" He chimed in and waved at the poor girl, "I'll handle this, I think Torgov needs some work with the paperwork in the back. Go help him, will you?"
She nodded furiously and disappeared in a flash.
He returned his attention to the woman, "Good morning, miss—"
"Cut the small talk. I need to meet with Pierro."
She was certainly no ordinary client then, if she was brave enough to call the man by his name so casually.
"Of course, I understand. However, his schedule is packed today, you must understand. I would greatly suggest you making an appointment—"
"Is he busy?" A tiny voice cut through his corporate recitation, and Childe lowered his gaze to meet a pair of dark eyes, with the faintest of white sparks in them. Behind the woman stood a young child, who, given their shared hair shade, must have been her child or a relative.
"It matters not if he is busy. A man of his stature should know how to keep his words." She laid a hand over the girl's head, before ruffling it.
Momentarily, she appeared to ponder upon something, before sighing, "Excuse me, may I borrow your phone?"
When he displayed a brief moment of hesitancy, she added, "I'll only be calling your boss."
Childe handed her his phone, but internally he was feeling a bit bad. Their CEO never strayed during work hours, and while he did not yet know the relationship between them and Pierro, he sincerely doubted the man would even pick up—
"Childe. Why are you calli—"
"It's me."
The line went silent, and Childe swore he heard something heavy crashed onto the ground on the other side.
"What? Already?"
"We're waiting in the lobby," She replied, the tiniest bits of annoyance seeping through her calm tone, "The receptionist said there was no appointment made under my name or hers, so send a message or somethi—What? No. You don't have to come do— No, Pierro!—"
The line went silent, and Childe watched on with terror as the woman clenched his phone in her fist, brows furrowing in agitation that quickly dissipated when the child tugged at her hand.
She handed him back the phone then, thanking him before occupying herself with watching whatever video the child had just pulled up on her phone. While inspecting his precious device, he couldn't help but steal glances at the duo.
While he prized himself on having great memory, he could not pin point who this woman was. Pierro did not have siblings and as far as anyone knew, no immediate family. Anastasya, the president of their company was a distant relative, that much he knew from forums of gossip, but the woman had a husband and a son.
So, really. Who were these two—
"Pierro!" The child shrieked suddenly, before dashing towards one of the elevator across the lobby. Or better yet, at the man exiting it. Unlike the mass of employees scurrying away from the imposing figure marching across the room, the girl was smiling and giggling widely as she ran into his arms. He quickly scooped her up before running a hand over her hair, the same way the woman did earlier. And Childe watched the gentlest of smile graced his lips as he did so, that constant stern mask he always adorned melting away at the sight of this child.
In that moment, a thought crossed Childe's mind. But there was no way. Right?
"All these secretaries and you still can't keep a straight schedule."
Pierro's expression stiffened at the voice, but Childe noted the soft edgees of his eyes hadn't changed; if anything, he looked almost at peace. Like he was not the CEO of a multinational corporation but simply a man with his family.
Wait. No. It couldn't be that…
"Good morning to you, as well."
"No need. My morning was ruined the moment I was questioned like a of stalker of yours."
"Once again, I apologise for the mishap. I am certain I put in a notice for your arrival."
Childe watched the scene in astonishment, and the rest of the employees watched in shock.
For they were not aware the Pierro could ever be so, if he must be truly honest, docile. While their words were the furthest from a warm familial exchange, Pierro was speaking softly, in stark contrast to the tone he always employed at work. In fact, until just now, Childe was certain that formal and stern way of speaking was simply his nature.
"I will speak with my secretary."
"Again, there is no need." She dismissed, but it was evident to anyone with an eye that she was very much still annoyed. Nevertheless, she soothed her face before turning to Childe.
"Thank you again for your assistance."
"Ah, it's no problem."
Pierro quirked a brow at him, "Regarding the call just now, why were you using his phone?"
"Why not." She bit back. And they slid into formation for a staring contest Childe assumed was not the first one, and far from the last.
"Can't you just answer a question normally?"
"Can't you just be a bit more attentive?"
"I already said I will speak to my secretary about this."
"And I was saying I had thought this is important enough for you to perhaps, I don't know, double check?"
"I did."
"Then triple check."
"Ronova—"
"She broke her phone!" The child piped up, grinning with amusement like this was merely a soap opera. Based on her reaction, Childe surmised this was a common occurrence, and he wasn't sure what that would imply.
Besides the assumption that they were… No, it couldn't be.
"Paimon!" The woman, Ronova, chastised, "What did I say about thinking before speaking?"
"Pierro asked a question, and you didn't answer." The kid said matter-of-fact-ly, face gleaming with pride, "What's wrong with me helping you?"
Pierro left her no room to retort, for he followed up with an amused smile, "Well well, turnt out our beloved Ronova could be clumsy after all."
She fumed, "Do not speak that way about me. And for your information, your child had me chasing her around the airport this entire morning and— Oh, forget it!"
Maybe they could forget it, but Childe most certainly could not. Because by "your child," there was no way she meant Paimon. There was definitely no way that she was saying Paimon was their CEO's daughter. Because by that logic— No, perhaps she was a babysitter, or a relative taking care of the kid.
Yeah, his bet was safe.
"I'm sorry…" Paimon mumbled, sheepish all of a sudden, "I'm super sorry, so you'll stay for dinner, right?"
Ronova's anger subsided, eyes softening at the inquiry. A deep inhale and exhale later, she inched closer and ruffled the child's head, apologetic in her whisper.
"I'm sorry, but there are matters I must attend to."
Paimon pouted, but otherwise said nothing. Pierro spoke up then.
"That's not what I heard."
She shot a glare his way, "What do you mean."
"After that big project in Natlan, you're stepping back, are you not?"
"That does not mean I have nothing to do."
"Yes, but you have nothing to do for now."
When she failed to deliver another witty remark, he added, "It is a good opportunity for rest. You need it."
Deep down, she had wanted to say something else. Perhaps a sentence akin to Quit acting like you care.
But she caught herself, and feigned a cough instead. "I'm doing fine. Thank you for the uneeded worry."
"Your recent check-up said otherwise."
And she was about to accuse him of overstepping boundaries and spying, before remembering the child sitting on his arm.
"Paimon."
The kid diverted her eyes.
"Paimon, did you tell him?"
"Uhh…"
Pinching the bridge of her nose, Ronova sighed once more, "Whatever she told you was an exaggeration, I am doing perfectly fine."
"I do not believe chronic fatigue and insomnia indicate a healthy constitution."
"And I do not believe it is your concern."
And there they went, back to square one of yet another staring contest. Childe almost forgot he was standing here and not back home on his couch watching a melodrama.
"Let's at least have lunch together."
She scoffed, "Last I checked your work day does not end at twelve."
"The place can run just fine without me."
"And you expect me to believe you'll really take the hour off?"
"I'll take the day off."
Ronova stared. Childe's jaw dropped. And the few employees still lingering nearby froze.
"Yay! Then let's go to that BBQ place!" Paimon chimed in, already shoving her phone with various review photos into Pierro's face, who merely chuckled and nodded in agreement.
His gaze returned to the woman besides them, blue crashing against amber. "You won't deny her a nice lunch together, won't you, Ronova?"
She clenched her first, "…Of course not."
The three departed quickly after, and while headquarter did not go up in flames, the company forums most certainly did. A flurry of photos hit the front page, millions of speculations and discussions about the identity of the woman, of the kid, of the relationship between them flooded the page.
Some theorised about a secret romantic affair, some argued it was a one-night-stand-turnt-awkward-co-parenting situation, some were sure it was just a PR stunt to showcase Pierro as a family man and those two were merely actors. But at the end of the day, it was just gossip to them. But Childe was risking a loss against the Rosalyne. And no way in hell would he ever let her win.
Thus, he must prove that there was absolutely zero romantic entanglement between Ronova and his boss. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. But before Childe could even establish a plan of how to prove it, Rosalyne had already sent him a screenshot at 3AM.
In it, Pierro had texted her asking for gift suggestions with absolutely zero subtlety about the intended receiver.
And Childe was going to die.