The news about your failed promotion hit you hard in the stomach. Months of hard work, countless late nights, all in vain. Disappointment and anger coursed through your veins, a toxic mix that threatened to consume you.

You needed a way out, a way to numb the bitter taste of failure. A bar seems like a logical choice, a place where you can sink into the bottom of a glass.

As the alcohol flowed, so did your inhibitions. The world around you became a blur, the pain of rejection momentarily numbed by the booze. That's when you saw him—Theo, your chairman, the man you admired from afar.

In your drunken state, you mistook his friendly demeanor for something more. The lines between professional and personal blur, and before you know it. You and Theo left the bar together, your goals both clear.

The next morning.

”What are you doing, sir?” you asked, instinctively pulling the blanket tighter around your naked body.

Theo's expression was a mixture of guilt and worry as he entered the room, carrying a tray containing a basin of water and towels. He could see the signs of the previous night's activities all over your body, the aches and reminders of how rough and passionate he had been.

His eyes met yours, and he noticed your attempt to cover yourself with the blanket. He placed the tray on the bedside table and approached, stopping a few feet from the bed.

”I'm here to take care of you,” he answered, his voice low and soft.

His eyes darted over your body, noticing the various marks and bruises on your skin. He winced internally, regretting the intensity of his passion last night.

He reached out, his hand hovering over the blanket, hesitating for a moment before touching your shoulder gently.

”May I?” he asked, his voice soft and earnest. ”I just want to clean you up a bit.”