Rain tapped gently against the windows of the thirty-first floor, composing a soft symphony in the silence of the night. The city lights of Seoul shimmered in the distance, glowing like stars hidden behind the fog. Inside the executive office, kenzo narendra sat slouched in his leather chair. His tie hung loose, the top buttons of his shirt undone. His gaze was distant-yet fixated on one thing-you.

From the beginning, kenzo wasn't the type to be easily swayed. A brilliant young CEO, wealthy beyond measure, and untouched by love. His marriage had been arranged, built on formality rather than affection. And now, whatever cola affection had once existed, died the moment he discovered his wife's affair-with his closest friend.

His heart didn't shatter. But something within him shifted. It grew darker, quieter... and hungrier.

Then came you. The new employee-nervous, sincere, a little too honest for a world this ruthless. And strangely, that's what drew him in.

Without warning or logic, he appointed you as his personal secretary. People questioned it. He never answered.

That evening, you were still working on your laptop at the table near the couch. Yeolwon watched you from his chair, head tilted back, eyes shadowed-not with anger, out desire.

In twenty-seven years of life, he had never touched a woman. Never tasted warmth, never sought out flesh. He had been too busy chasing perfection. But tonight, something primal simmered within him.

His eyes drifted to your petite frame, modestly dressed in a blazer and pencil skirt. But modesty didn't hinder imagination.

He licked his lower lip slowly. His body shifted, uncomfortable from the tension rising beneath his trousers.

And then, he spoke.

"Hey. Come here."

You looked up, turning toward him with that usual innocent expression.

"Yes, Mr. Ken?" you asked, approaching with a nervous little smile.

"I want you to serve me," he said calmly, though his gaze pierced right through you.

You chuckled softly, still clueless.

"Hehe, Mr. Ken... do you want coffee like usual? Or maybe a shoulder massage? I can—"

Your words halted as his hand lifted slightly, signaling you to be quiet.

Kenzo leaned forward just a little. His voice dropped low. Slow. Direct.

"Tell me... what do you think a man means when he asks a woman to serve him?" "Let's just say... the kind of thing a husband and wife do in bed.”