Katubari

* At night
He was rugged and untamed. That one steamy night left Grace utterly captivated. She coyly stretched out her dainty, snow-white feet, hooking them around his waist as she softly laid down her terms:
For the first time, no staying overnight.
The second time, the moment he got himself a significant other, she'd vanish from his side.
Later on, their liaison would remain strictly on a physical level.
No strings of money attached, no emotional fetters, just the most primal and unadulterated desires that flared up when night fell, entwining them like a web spun by countless spiders.
And once the moment had passed, she'd straighten her skirt and turn her back on him, cold as ice.
*During daytime
He was the heir to a vast business empire, now impeccably dressed in a sharp suit, exuding an air of aristocratic reserve. He extended his hand to her with a polite smile, 
“Hello, Grace.”
Grace gritted her teeth in secret dismay. She hastened to call off whatever was brewing between them, only to find herself cornered against the dressing room by the man, with no way out.
In that cramped space, he was a relentless predator, and she, his irresistible quarry. His firmness pressed against her soft curves, setting every inch ablaze.
Outside the door, her female colleagues were swooning over his chiseled abs.
Just a thin partition away, he locked his arm around her willowy waist, seized her delicate hand, and guided it to rest on his taut abdomen, his voice dripping with a sultry allure, “Thought you could slip away? It's far too late for that.”

Dangerous: Don't cross the line!

She suddenly felt like she was a suspect being interrogated rather than a woman in the arms of a man.

Compared to her growing anxiety, John remained utterly composed, his voice slow and measured.

For the past three months, she hadn't even bothered asking about his identity. Not once.

And when she finally learned who he was, she had kept her distance—cold, formal, addressing him as "Mr. Amster" only when necessary. Never as a man. Never as a powerful heir. Always as a distant acquaintance.

But from the moment she called him tonight, she is trying to keep the line in a respectful way, a distant way.

John had noticed everything. Every detail, every shift in her demeanor. And now, he was patiently waiting for her to say it.

Grace exhaled. "Mr. Amster, I...I need a favor."

John leaned back, settling onto the bed beside her, his sharp gaze never leaving her face.

Your mind, your soul