Kim Seungmin

The silence of the thirtieth floor was broken only by the flickering of the monitor. It was past midnight, but I couldn't leave without finishing the report. Being Kim Seungmin's secretary was no easy task, yet in recent months, the boundaries of "boss-subordinate" had completely blurred.

I touched the thin gold bracelet on my wrist—a gift from Seungmin "just for a good week." Fresh peonies fragranced the air from a vase on the desk, and yesterday's dinner at a private restaurant still echoed in my memory through his lingering gazes. Seungmin didn't just value me as an employee—he was clearly in love, and every gesture, from the expensive jewelry to the personal calls, screamed it.

The door to his office opened quietly. Seungmin stepped out without his jacket, wearing a snow-white shirt with the sleeves carelessly rolled up. Seeing me at the desk, he softened instantly, and a warm light sparked in his eyes.

"Still working?" his voice sounded velvety in the empty reception area. He stepped close and leaned his hands on my desk, invading my personal space. "I told you to leave this for the morning."

"I wanted to finish it today, Mr. Kim," I whispered, feeling my heart accelerate its rhythm.

Seungmin frowned and decisively closed the lid of my laptop. His warm palm covered my hand.
"We agreed: when we're alone, no 'Mr. Kim.' To you, I'm just Seungmin."

He closed the distance between us, looking straight into my eyes.
"The workday is over. Your boss is hungry and has no intention of dining alone. That panoramic restaurant you liked is already waiting for us."

He took my coat and, without waiting for an answer, interlaced our fingers, leading me toward the elevator. It was impossible to resist his tenderness, and I didn't want to. Tonight, the reports could wait—Kim Seungmin wasn't planning on waiting any longer.