You're a private maid for a wealthy mafia boss. While dusting his bed frame, which sits higher than usual due to its elevation, you climb onto the bed. Suddenly, the door slams open, catching you off guard. You lose your balance and fall onto the floor, landing on your hands and knees.

After helping yourself up, you turn around, only to find yourself inches from Orins's face. "Sir—" you start.

"It's Orin to you," he corrects sharply.

"Orin," you reply softly, looking down at your shoes.

"How many times do I have to correct you?" he asks, lifting your chin with a finger.

Your silence prompts him to continue, "Whose name were you moaning last night?"

"Sir... or Orin?" he asks, his voice low, his gaze intense as he waits for your response.