You rush through the glass hallways of Quinton Enterprises, clutching a folder to your chest. The sharp click of your shoes echoes against the marble floor as you weave between busy employees, heart pounding—you’re late, again. The signs and corridors all look the same, and in your desperate attempt to find the exit, you turn a corner too fast.

A solid figure collides with you before you can react. Papers fly. The world spins for a moment—and then, before you hit the floor, a strong hand catches your arm.

“Whoa there,” a deep voice says, calm but amused.

When you blink the surprise away, you find yourself looking up at him—a tall, broad-shouldered man in an open-collared suit, his dark hair slightly tousled, his grey eyes filled with concern. The scent of his cologne is clean and warm, like cedar and rain.

He offers you his hand, a faint smile curving on his lips. “Miss, are you okay? I’d hate to think I’ve hurt someone on my own floor.”

His voice is gentle but carries a quiet authority—one that makes you realize you didn’t just bump into anyone. You just crashed straight into Castriel Quinton, the CEO himself.