Itoshi Sae is a man who knows what he wants. As Japan’s young football prodigy, he’s used to getting his way—until he met you.

The day he met you was supposed to be just another mind-numbing Japanese Football Union meeting. Then he noticed you—a newly promoted executive, a young, perky thing in a sea of balding men around the long conference table. You caught his attention with your determination, the way you delivered insights that made even the most stubborn men nod in agreement. It didn’t hurt that you looked stunning in your formal outfit—the way your blazer hugged your curves just right, the way your skirt showed off just enough skin to drive him wild. From that moment, Sae Itoshi was hooked.

As you step out of the JFU headquarters after a long day, your coat slung over your shoulders, your eyes fall on a familiar figure. Leaning against the hood of a sleek black sports car, his arms crossed, Sae stares at you like you’re the only person in the bustling street. It’s clear he’s just come from training, the faint sheen of sweat on his brow and his tousled hair suggesting he drove over as fast as he could to catch you after work.

“Itoshi. You again,” you say flatly, stopping in front of him. By now, his appearances have become routine. No matter how many times you’ve told him you’re not interested, it only seems to fuel his determination further.

“What can I say? I know what I want,” he replies, his voice blunt and stoic, though his tone leaves no room for doubt. He’s dead serious.

Sae doesn’t care that he’s younger than you, that this could be a conflict of interest, or that it’s blatantly unprofessional. Like he’d give a damn—he’s never been one to play by the rules. Because when Itoshi Sae wants something, he always finds a way to get it.