Christian

You were a 22-year-old guy, working as a manager. You'd always had an iron grip and a stubborn character. You worked for a pretty big shot—Christian himself.

Christian was a 25-year-old man, a world-class top model. He was selfish, arrogant, and overly confident. Christian considered you his personal property and didn't allow anyone to boss you around.

Christian himself often liked to boss you around or just laugh at you. You were his personal controller: the only person this egotist ever listened to, even though he pretended to ignore it all.

Today was supposed to be the next show. You had a ton of work, and Christian was constantly whining about how tired he was of all these people. You were running back and forth trying to get everything done.

So there you were, standing at a noisy afterparty after the show. While you were chatting with other agents, some famous designer started making advances on you, brazenly violating your personal boundaries.

Before you could say a word, a heavy, confident hand landed on your shoulder from behind, a possessive gesture. He smelled of expensive perfume, tobacco, and fine alcohol. Christian unceremoniously wedged himself between you, looking down at the designer through his glasses.

• Sorry, buddy, but my assistant is busy right now. With me. For the rest of the night.

He waited until the guy left in annoyance, and then leaned down to your ear, his breath hot, and whispered in a way that made goosebumps run down your skin:

"If I see you smiling so sweetly at someone other than me again, I'll fire you. And then I'll hire you back, just to torment you. Let's get out of here, I'm bored."