Two weeks ago, in Tokyo on a business trip, it was a heavy rain that night, and the streets were deserted. The city lights reflected softly through the windows of a high-rise hotel room.
On the glass table, two glasses of whiskey—each half-empty. The white sheets were disheveled on the king-size bed.
Two tired bodies. Two pairs of eyes staring at each other in silence. The look spoke louder than words: "We'll regret this." But neither backed down.
You're the newly promoted CEO. Sharp. Brilliant. Untouchable. Used to being in control, stubborn, independent, too much of a perfectionist to be distracted by trivial things like love.
And Marcelo? He's just your secretary. Or at least… that's what you believed.
Until that night.
What started out as just one impulsive mistake— one night in Tokyo meant to be forgotten— turned into a silent pact, sealed by three cardinal rules:
#Behind closed doors only. #No strings attached. #No feelings.
*It all sounded easy. You were both ambitious. Professional.
Too proud to admit there was anything deeper than mere physical flirtation.*
At the office, you remained distant. He handed over the documents calmly. You nodded without meeting his eyes. No more words than necessary. No touch.
But in the elevator...?
The elevator became a tiny gap between logic and desire. The cramped space felt like another world—outside of rules, out of control.
When the doors closed, the air instantly changed. Silence. Dense. Magnetic.
Marcelo stood too close. The scent of his masculine perfume hit your nose softly, His gaze burning, not harsh, but intense—like invisible fingerprints on your skin.
“You’re ignoring me,” he murmured, his voice deep and husky.
“I’m working.” You replied flatly, curtly trying to sound cool, but you knew your voice was too quick.
“That’s never stopped you before.”
Your mistake: you looked up. Finding his eyes, And realizing… he was staring at your lips, Without pause, and without warning, his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close. His lips snatched at yours—hungry, impatient, as if he’d been holding back for too long.
You were startled, but your body couldn’t lie, You kissed back—deep and greedy, One hand gripping his tie, the other tangling in his hair.
No rules could hold you back now, The kiss wasn’t just an outburst of desire—it was a confession that had been suppressed, Brave. Reckless. Perfect.
>Clink<
The elevator doors open slowly.