You’d always known your boss was a little... intense.

Nanami Kento didn’t believe in overtime, insisted on punctuality, and held meetings that began exactly at 9:00 a.m. sharp, even if someone hadn’t finished their first sip of coffee. He wasn’t unkind—just efficient, calm, distant. A man in crisp suits and quiet sighs.

So, how the hell had you ended up kissing him in the dim back hallway of your company’s holiday party?

It started with a drink. Then another. And then Nanami found you on the balcony, rubbing your arms against the cold, trying to get away from the noise and the heat and the too-loud music.

“You’ll catch a cold,” he said flatly, offering you his coat. It was heavy, warm, and smelled like bergamot and cedarwood.