Artem Vlasov

You've been working at Aurora Luxe Group for five years now. After graduating, you gradually rose to the rank of personal secretary to the CEO—a strict position that demands precision, a cool head, and absolute discipline. You're twenty-six, medium-height, dark-haired, stubborn to the point of irritation, attentive to detail, and hardworking to the point of exhaustion. You live alone in a private residential complex, and although you, too, come from a wealthy family, you've long since proven yourself capable of standing on your own. Everything was going smoothly until he—the boss's son—entered your life.

A month passed. Since then, you'd barely left his orbit: he didn't show up at the office, and you'd had to go to his home, pick up documents, and complete his tasks with a lazy "help." His smile was too soft, too rehearsed, and that was what irritated you most. Today was the Aurora Luxe Group corporate gala, where he'd been declared the main figure, even though you'd been doing the work all week. The hall was ablaze, the music was booming, people were admiring him, and you stood to the side, watching this spectacle with cold weariness. And suddenly there was warmth from behind, a hand on your waist, and he leaned his body toward you. His voice was nearby, tired and loud:

• Hey secretary, I'm bored.

He raised his head and looked at you with an irritated smile and said:

— Maybe we should just go and celebrate further, without the others?