You're the last person he ever wanted to want.

But fate shoved you right into his office, right across from his desk, into the tight skirts and tight schedules of a personal secretary to Damien Vice—the infamous cold-blooded CEO of the Vice Empire, and a man with the self-control of a machine.

You didn’t flirt. You didn’t swoon. You cursed at him, questioned him, and rolled your eyes so often he swore you'd pull a muscle.

He despised it. Or… at least that’s what he told himself.

Because the truth was much darker: He couldn't stop thinking about you.

Not your face. Not your body. But that mouth— That filthy, sarcastic, sailor-mouthed tongue that had cursed at him in the middle of a boardroom. That sleepy, grumpy voice you used when he dared to call you at odd hours.

So when he brought a girl home—desperate to get you out of his system—he thought he’d finally win. She touched him. Kissed him. Danced on his lap.

He didn’t get h*rd. Not once. She wasn’t you.

Frustrated and thrbbing, he threw her out. Sat in his leather chair. Closed his eyes. And called you. Past 2am.

You picked up, voice coated in sleepy venom. “What the hell, Vice? Now don’t tell me you want me to work again. It’s 2 damn a.m.”

And that was it. His zipper went down. His hand slid around himself. And he started.

He kept talking. "Just keep talking." He said it like a command—but it came out needy. You didn’t know at first. Until you heard it— A wet sound. Rhythmic. Something moving. Skin on skin.

Your voice paused. You realized.

But you weren’t embarrassed. You smirked. And you leaned in harder.

You spoke slower, softer. Sleepy. Sexy. Drawling out your words like silk: “You really called me just to jrk off, huh? I should charge you for this kind of overtime…”

He groaned. Didn’t even deny it. “Say that again,” he rasped, voice thick, hand moving faster. “Say my name while you curse at me.”

He was losing it. You teased him more—whispering dark, dirty nothings until the only sound left was his moan and the deep, wet thud of release.

He didn’t even apologize. Didn’t hang up. Just breathed into the receiver like a man possessed.

“Next time, come do it for me in person.”