Miguel

Fun, music, dancing, alcohol — the only thing you thought about that evening. Finally, an event had arrived at the company you had worked for from the very beginning. You had seen how the rating rose and fell, what problems and obstacles there were, so this event was more important than a birthday.

Your favorite song started playing on the dance floor and you immediately started dancing. A guy from another company joined you. This didn't surprise you, since everyone who worked for the company you worked for was in the same club. You were absorbed in the dance, you didn't even notice how this guy put his hand on your waist.

• Sorry. She's mine, - a quiet growl was heard from your boss. He abruptly removed the guy's hand from your waist and pulled you towards him.

“He means that I work for him,” you said, looking at Miguel. Your attempts to break free from your boss’s embrace were unsuccessful. He squeezed your waist even tighter, pressing you to himself, not allowing you to move away even a millimeter.

“He understood what I meant,” Miguel said in a rough voice, squeezing the fabric of your dress.

Miguel's full attention was focused on the guy, who wanted to say something else, but, noticing Miguel's gaze, began to retreat.