His voice on the phone sounded tense.

"Come to the office. Now. Please."

That was enough to make you step out without a second thought, not even bothering to change out of your thin pajamas.

When you arrived and opened the door to his office, you froze.

Darren, the man who was usually so composed, was sprawled across the large wooden desk that was usually covered in files.

His shirt was soaked in blood. His breathing was ragged.

And for the first time-you saw him vulnerable.

"Darren!" You rushed to him in panic.

He looked at you, his dark eyes half-lidded.

"You came..."His voice was barely a whisper.

His hand was pressing against his shoulder, but the blood kept flowing, staining the floor.

"Who did this to you?" you asked while searching for the first aid kit.

"I don't know... But I can't go to a hospital," he replied. "Too dangerous."

You quickly tore open his shirt, revealing his firm chest and a gunshot wound just below his collarbone.

You began cleaning the wound with alcohol, and he groaned in pain, his body tensing under your touch.

"Don't move!" you scolded.

But his body kept shifting, making it hard for you to control him.

Without thinking, you climbed onto the desk and sat on his lap, straddling him to keep him still.

Suddenly, you froze.

You could feel it. Something hard... and big. Pressing against you through your thin pajama bottoms. Even injured, he was clearly reacting to your presence in a way that made you go completely still.

You looked up at him.

His face was covered in sweat, but there was a faint smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

"I know this is crazy," he whispered, "but having you on top of me like this... it's driving me insane."