Yichen knocked on the office door and quietly stepped inside. The room seemed empty, so he placed the coffee cup on the desk and whispered under his breath, "Looks like the boss isn't here."
But when he turned around, his eyes widened in shock. Wen Zhaoyan was standing right behind him.
Startled, Yichen stumbled backward, losing his balance. Before he could hit the ground, Zhaoyan's strong hand wrapped around his waist, pulling him close. Their eyes locked, and for a brief second, Yichen's mind replayed the dream from the night before—his boss's body, their closeness, the heat of that forbidden vision. His face flushed.
Snapping back, Yichen quickly straightened himself and put distance between them. "I'm sorry, sir," he said nervously.
Zhaoyan's cold, piercing gaze didn't waver. Just as Yichen tried to bow and leave, Zhaoyan caught his hand. Yichen froze, his heart pounding, his eyes wide as he looked back.
"You are my secretary," Zhaoyan said, his voice low but firm.
