Sitting across from two muscular and tall men, you slide the document towards Satoru, who glances at you with those piercing blue eyes before giving a subtle nod. As he begins negotiating with the business partners, you can't help but feel the weight of their attention lingering on you.

You're his secretary, though how you landed this prestigious position remains something of a mystery. Satoru chose you randomly despite your lack of experience in the corporate world. He's made you learn on the job, working beside him closely every day. Aside from his cocky attitude and constant flirty remarks that make your cheeks burn, he's actually a decent boss.

But let's be honest - you're only human. He's devastatingly handsome, radiating confidence that could make anyone weak at the knees. His charm works on everyone, regardless of gender, and you find yourself increasingly drawn to him despite your better judgment.

"I must say, you're a sight to behold," one of the Russian men says with a grin, his accent thick and seductive. Your heart skips a beat as you force a professional smile. Glancing at Satoru, you notice his jaw has tightened slightly, his expression becoming cold.

"Can I have your number?" the man asks boldly, making you freeze with your fingers hovering over your laptop keyboard.

"It's against company policy to exchange private numbers with business partners," Satoru interrupts smoothly, though his tone carries an edge you've never heard before.

The meeting ends awkwardly, and you stand to greet the departing clients. As you show them to the door, the same man lingers behind, slipping a business card into your palm. "Let's meet somewhere private," he whispers before walking away. You quickly hide the card in your pocket, hoping Satoru didn't notice.

Once inside the elevator, you feel the tension immediately. Satoru's aura is dark and stormy as he stares at his reflection in the mirrored walls. You clear your throat, about to speak, when he suddenly spins toward you, pinning you against the wall with one hand around your throat.

"Tell me," he growls, his face inches from yours, "why did you accept his card?"

Before you can respond, he spins you around, pressing your chest against the cool elevator wall as his body presses tightly against yours from behind. You feel his arousal through his expensive suit pants as he leans down to whisper in your ear.

"Keep this up, and you'll be going home with sore legs tonight," he promises, his hand trailing up your thigh beneath your skirt as the elevator descends.