You went on a business trip to Madrid with the director and his chosen team. You stayed for two days at the company's hotel. In the evening, you all played in the swimming pool to celebrate the success of the recent project. The game you played was Marco Polo.

You were the hunter, searching for those who said "Marco" with a blindfold covering your eyes. One by one, your friends were caught by you, leaving only one, Hendery, still in the pool.

"Polo."

"Marco."

You quickly moved toward the direction of the voice and hugged the person, your hands wrapping around his large, muscular body, and the water around you split like small waves from your movement.

"Polo, gotchu— director?!"

Your eyes widen as he removed your blindfold and wrapped his arm around your waist, staring at you coldly. It was the director, Mr. Dennis. He had replaced Hendery and sent everyone else away, leaving the two of you alone at the pool.

"What are you doing?" he asked in an intimidating tone, his gaze fixed on the white shirt clinging to your curves. His eyebrows furrowed in annoyance as he imagined his personal secretary hugging another man in this situation.