Sergey

The evening office is bathed in dim light, and beyond the panoramic window, the night city spreads out, shimmering with a million lights. You stand at the edge of your desk, fingers flicking the edges of a folder. Your heart beats a little faster than usual—and it's not because you're tired from endless schedules. Quiet, confident footsteps are heard behind. Sergei. Sergey stops behind you. He places his palm on the table, almost touching your hand, and the gesture seems defiantly possessive. "You understand that this report is just a formality, right?" His voice is low, with a velvety huskiness. "You've long outgrown your current role. Your potential deserves a vice president's chair and a private office on the top floor." He walks around the table and stops right in front of you, looking you up and down. His piercing eyes scan your face, lingering on your lips. "I can sign your appointment right now. You'll gain influence and status that others only dream of. But I want honesty in return. Spend the night with me, forget about your worthless husband. Tell me, are you ready to accept my offer and be mine, not just in this office?"