The night air around the mansion was thick with music, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. Kimberly had promised herself she wouldn't drink too much — but promises like that rarely lasted long under pressure. Between her father's cold glares, Kelvin's unwanted smiles, and the endless wedding talk, she found herself pouring another glass… then another.
By the time dinner ended, her head spun like the chandelier above. Her father had retired to his study, leaving her alone in the vast dining hall. Roy stood quietly at a distance, ever observant, ever patient — until he saw her sway slightly as she tried to stand.
"Ma'am—" he started.
"Oh please, stop with that ma'am thing," she slurred, waving her hand dismissively. "I'm Kimberly, not the queen of England."
"Yes, ma'am," he said softly, hiding a small smile.
She pointed a playful finger at him, her eyes half-closed. "You're doing it again!"
Roy sighed and approached. "Let's get you home."
"Home? But the party just started," she giggled, spinning once on her heels and nearly losing her balance. He caught her easily, his strong arms around her waist.
She blinked up at him, her breath warm against his neck. "You have nice reflexes, Mr. Bodyguard."
"Thank you," he replied dryly, steadying her before she fell again.
He led her carefully to the car, ignoring her occasional protests that she could "walk just fine." The night was quiet now, the sound of her heels tapping against the stone path the only rhythm in the silence.
As soon as they got into the car, Kimberly leaned her head back with a sigh. "Roy… turn on the music."
He glanced at her through the rear-view mirror. "Maybe not tonight."
She sat up suddenly, pointing an accusing finger at him. "Are you defying your boss?"
He bit back a laugh. "You're drunk."
"And you're boring," she retorted, crossing her arms. "Turn it on. That's an order."
Roy shook his head, trying not to smile. "No."
"Fine. Then I'll do it myself." She leaned forward from the back seat, her perfume surrounding him, her laughter soft but uncontrollable. She reached for the dashboard, brushing against his arm. "Ah-ha, there it is!"
Before Roy could stop her, she turned the knob — and loud pop music blasted through the speakers. The sudden noise startled them both. He quickly pulled the car over to the side of the road and turned off the radio.
"Roy!" she exclaimed in mock outrage. "Why did you do that?"
He looked at her, calm but firm. "Because you're going to regret this tomorrow."
She blinked, then chuckled. "You sound like my father."
"Good," he muttered, though a small smile tugged at his lips.
Kimberly tilted her head, studying him as if seeing him for the first time. "You know, Roy, if I didn't know you… I'd think you were a mafia boss or something. You have that whole mysterious, dangerous aura."
He arched a brow. "Is that a compliment?"
She giggled. "Maybe."
She kept laughing — that soft, genuine sound that Roy had never heard from her before. Not as a boss. Not as the cold CEO everyone feared. This was the real Kimberly — warm, unguarded, almost innocent.
Roy's voice dropped low. "If you don't stop laughing, Kimberly…"
She looked at him through heavy lashes. "What? You'll fire me?"
He turned to face her, eyes dark with emotion. "No. I'll kiss you." He warned, the words a soft threat, a promise hanging heavy in the air between them. Kimberly, however, merely waved a dismissive hand, convinced he was joking, and continued to laugh, her head lolling against the headrest, completely oblivious to the dangerous glint in his eyes. And then, he moved. Swiftly, decisively, he grabbed her by the back of her neck, pulling her towards him with an unexpected force that stole the last breath of laughter from her lips. His mouth descended upon hers, a rough, demanding kiss that left no room for protest, no space for thought. Kimberly was utterly, completely shocked, her mind a blank canvas as his lips, firm and insistent, claimed hers. A strange, intoxicating sweetness bloomed on his tongue – cherry, honey, and a hint of cool mint, a flavor profile that both surprised and captivated her. The kiss deepened, a consuming inferno that ignited something primal within her, and as his tongue traced the curve of her lips, a seismic shift occurred within her half-sober mind. He adjusted the car seat with a practiced ease, sliding it back, creating a small, intimate space, before pulling her onto his lap, her body molding against his, a sudden rush of heat enveloping them both. In that instant, the last vestiges of her drunken stupor seemed to dissipate, replaced by a searing awareness, a yearning she hadn't known she possessed. She kissed him back, her lips parting, her tongue tentatively meeting his, a desperate, hungry response that felt as though her very life depended on it. His hands, warm and strong, moved from her neck to her hair, then down her spine, pressing her closer still, until there was no space left between them. He broke the kiss, a soft trail of sensation left in its wake, and proceeded to devour the delicate skin of her nape, his lips tracing a path of fire, his teeth gently nipping, sending shivers down her spine, before he blew a soft, warm breath against the sensitive skin, eliciting a low, involuntary moan that escaped her lips, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure. He returned to her mouth, his kiss deeper, more possessive than before, his hands, no longer content with merely holding her, found their way beneath her dress, expertly navigating the silk, then the lace of her bra, until his fingers were kneading her soft breasts, his thumbs circling her hard, aching nipples. Kimberly gasped, her body arching into his touch, a liquid heat pooling between her thighs, a clear sign of her undeniable arousal, her entire being dripping down with a desire she had never known. He broke the kiss again, his lips trailing a path down her chin, over her throat, until he reached her breasts, his mouth closing around one peak, sucking deeply, drawing her into him, his tongue drawing lazy, intoxicating circles, teasing and tormenting her senses. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, her body a trembling mess of need. His hand, having explored the soft fullness of her breast, moved further, down her stomach, over her hip, finally settling on her buttock, squeezing it possessively, eliciting another soft, guttural moan from her throat, a clear, unmistakable declaration of her readiness, her fervent desire for more. Roy felt it, the electric current of her need, the undeniable pull of her body against his, her soft moans echoing in the confined space, urging him on. But then, with a sharp, almost imperceptible intake of breath, he stopped. He pulled back, his lips leaving hers, his hands stilling, and instead of continuing the fiery descent, he leaned forward, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to her forehead. Then, with a gentle but firm motion, he lifted her from his lap, carefully placing her back onto the passenger seat, buckling her seatbelt with a detached efficiency that sent a cold shiver through her. Kimberly, half-sober, half-stunned, looked at him, her eyes wide with confusion, a flicker of raw anger beginning to simmer beneath the surface of her dazed desire. "Roy," she began, her voice a mere whisper, wanting to demand an explanation, to ask him why he had stopped, why he had ignited such a fire only to extinguish it so abruptly, but the words caught in her throat, her face flushing a deep, mortified crimson that spread from her chest to the tips of her ears. "What is it, Kimb?" he asked, his voice now back to its teasing, somewhat amused tone, as if nothing profound had just transpired between them, as if he hadn't just turned her world upside down. "Nothing," she replied quickly, her voice barely audible, her eyes darting away from his, fixing on the dark, passing scenery outside the window, wishing the ground would simply open up and swallow her whole. The remainder of the drive home was steeped in an unbearable silence, thick with unspoken questions and simmering embarrassment, the vivid memory of his lips, his hands, her own fervent response replaying endlessly in her mind. When they finally pulled into her driveway, she didn't wait for him to open the door for her; she practically launched herself from the car, a blur of silk and mortification, racing up to her front door, fumbling with the keys, and once inside, she bolted straight for her room, jumping onto her bed and pulling the thick duvet over her head, desperately wishing to erase the last hour from existence, the sweet, minty taste of his kiss still lingering on her lips, a scandalous secret she now carried.