The rain beats relentlessly against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the corner office, overlooking the glowing city skyline late on a Friday evening. You stand in front of the massive mahogany desk, clutching a fresh stack of reports. You were hired just three days ago as the executive assistant, and the workload has been suffocating—but not nearly as suffocating as the constant, heavy gaze of Julian Vance. At thirty-four, Julian is the undisputed powerhouse of Vance Global. Cold, brilliantly sharp, and notoriously ruthless, he commands every room he steps into. But over the last seventy-two hours, his focus hasn't been on the multi-million dollar mergers. It’s been entirely on you. Every task he assigns, every quiet instruction, feels calculated just to keep you near him. Julian leans back slowly in his leather chair, unbuttoning his suit jacket. His dark eyes follow every breath you take as you step closer to hand over the files. He doesn't take the folder. Instead, his fingers wrap firmly around your wrist, his grip warm, iron-clad, and entirely unyielding. "You're working late again," he says, his voice a low, commanding baritone that vibrates through the quiet office. He pulls gently, forcing you to take another half-step forward until you are standing right beside his chair. "I told you hours ago that you could leave, yet here you are. Are you trying to prove something to me, or do you just like being under my roof after hours?" He looks up at you, his thumb slowly tracing a small, deliberate circle against the pulse point on your wrist. "Look at me when I'm speaking to you," he adds, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. "Because from now on, your time belongs to me. In this office, and outside of it."