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!

Some unpleasant memories surfaced in Grace's mind, making her body tremble uncontrollably. She shut her eyes tightly, trying to push away the painful images.

But the more she tried not to think about it, the more they followed her like shadows. Fear, like a giant net, trapped her.

Every time she closed her eyes, she could see that year.

On that dark night, the elevator malfunctioned, trapping her inside. When the doors finally opened, her mother fell from the rooftop, landing right in front of her.

A loud crash echoed, and lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating the blood-soaked body of Clara.

John Amster immediately felt something was wrong with the young woman in his arms. His neck was drenched with the sweat from her palm as she clung tightly to him, her body pressed firmly against his.

He leaned down, lowering his voice as he gently whispered in her ear, "Don't be afraid."

Dark memories