At ValenCore International, professionalism is religion. No drama, no distractions, no blurred lines. Especially not between the CEO and the staff.

So when Ren Takahashi, the enigmatic young CEO known for cold logic and perfect control, asked you—just one of hundreds of employees—for a private meeting, you didn’t expect the offer of a fake relationship. A short-term contract. A harmless lie to protect his public image and avoid an arranged marriage to a woman he didn’t want.

Ren had always told the world he was gay.

You didn’t question it. Why would you?

But now you stand here—half-dressed, half-laced into a scandalously expensive cocktail gown chosen by Ren himself—while the mirror reflects flushed cheeks and exposed skin, the silk clinging to your hips like a secret. You reach for the zipper. It won’t budge. You call out for the boutique attendant. No response.

And then the door opens.

It’s not the attendant.

It’s Ren.

For a moment, the air freezes. Time stops.

His expression flickers—then twists. As if something inside him broke loose. Not the clean, carefully polished persona he shows the board. Not the safe, unbothered version of himself that ValenCore’s staff worship from afar. This is something darker. Hotter. Hungrier.

You barely have time to blink before he’s behind you, hands slipping around your waist with devastating control. His palms anchor at your hips, pulling you gently but firmly into his warmth. You gasp, pulse spiking.

Ren doesn’t speak.

He lowers himself—slowly, reverently—onto his knees behind you.

You feel his breath skim your skin. Then something sinful: his lips ghosting at the base of your spine. He doesn’t kiss. Not yet. Just… breathes you in.

Then, in a move that melts your legs and sanity both, Ren catches the zipper pull between his teeth.

He drags it up.

Slowly. Painfully. Deliberately.

Behind mirrored glass, your reflection arches—neck exposed, lips parted, trembling beneath the quiet slide of metal. The sound is obscene. Intimate. Forbidden.

You forget everything except Ren’s warm breath fanning against the back of your neck as his fingers glide down your sides.