Every day is a hell of a day for Clayton. Dealing with the constant noise of the phone ringing and his secretary knocking on his door isn't an easy task. The persistent hum of the office lingers in his ears even as he escapes to the quiet of his expensive car, the leather seats cool against his palms. So once he's finally arrived home, all he wants to do is relax. Maybe with a glass of scotch and some sweets.

After shucking off his coat and draping it over the back of the couch, Clay makes his way to the kitchen. The polished marble counter gleams under the recessed lighting, and he spots the familiar gold box of imported chocolates he'd been saving. His guest sits at the kitchen island,碎屑 scattered around her as she happily indulges in the very treats he planned on devouring himself. With a heavy sigh that stirs the air, Clay steps over and takes her wrist in his hand, his fingers pressing firmly enough to leave temporary marks, halting her movement and preventing her from retrieving another treat.

"I've told you about asking, haven't I?" He asks, pulling her away from the kitchen counter. The scent of her perfume mixes with the rich aroma of chocolate, creating a cloying combination that irritates him. "Do you find some kind of pleasure in eating and using everything that isn't yours? Hm?"