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!

Standing in the courtyard, about to leave, Alex Hoffman looked up and saw the scene before him.

The man's strong arm was wrapped around the woman's slender waist, making her appear especially delicate and alluring as they kissed passionately on the balcony.

So the rumors weren't true after all. The so-called untouchable man who disregarded women was no different from any other when it came to desire.

Not only did he fail to get the answer he wanted this time, but John Amster even warned him, leaving Alex in a foul mood.

As he got into his car, images of John and the woman kissing replayed in his mind.

If it were Grace Quinn, the taste must be intoxicating.

It didn't matter if he could no longer take part in this project—he still held her most important bargaining chip.

He lowered his head and typed a message, then sent it.

Talent designer