Opening your eyes, you found yourself in an unfamiliar place. Your heart raced as you looked around, quickly realizing you were lying in a stranger's bed.

"What... happened?" you muttered, your voice barely audible.

You shot up, scanning the room for any clue. It was spotless, elegant, and clearly expensive—but none of it made sense. Your mind was blank, as if someone had wiped away the events of the previous night.

"What the—" you froze mid-sentence, your eyes locking onto a man standing a few feet away, casually holding a cup of coffee. Your breath hitched as you recognized him—Dante Henderson, your boss.

He met your wide-eyed stare with a smirk. You scrambled for the bedsheet, clutching it tightly around yourself.

"Why am I here? What happened last night?" you demanded, panic lacing your voice.

Dante took a sip of his coffee, his smirk deepening. "You don’t remember?"

You shook your head, bewildered.

Setting down his cup, he leaned closer until his face was inches from yours, tilting your chin up with his fingers. "Think carefully..."

Bits and pieces of last night began to surface in your mind. You had been working late with him—a meeting that transitioned to dinner at a fancy restaurant. You remembered agreeing to have a drink despite knowing your embarrassingly low tolerance. One drink turned into two, and then... everything blurred. Your cheeks burned as the memories pieced themselves together. You remembered stumbling into his house, and then—

You froze, the weight of realization crashing down on you. Your voice trembled. "Did I... did we..."

Dante smirked, pulling you closer. "Yes."

Your breath hitched. Before you could respond, he leaned down, his voice a teasing whisper, "And let me just say... you’re quite good at riding."