Lorraine Cromwell never imagined her first time would be with her boss.
Last night, after being pressured into drinking way too much by her coworkers, she somehow ended up crashing straight into Tristan Seymour's chilly embrace.
She'd been burning up inside, and his lips had been ice cold.
Without thinking, she reached up and kissed him.
Then came the heated kisses, and everything spiraled from there...
Lorraine thought maybe it was all a dream, but the soreness in her body said otherwise-it had definitely happened.
She had actually slept with her boss, the man who sat at the top of the corporate food chain, whose single glance could silence the entire floor.
Wrapped tightly in the blanket, Lorraine panicked as she looked around for her clothes.
But the only blouse she had-the silk one she'd been proud to own-was now nothing more than shredded fabric.
Her skirt, bra, everything else-torn to pieces.
As she stared in disbelief at the pile of ruined clothing, her eyes caught something across the room-a brand new women's business suit, neatly folded on a single-seater couch.
From underwear to blazer, the whole outfit was there. Tags weren't even removed yet. A pair of matching heels sat next to it.
Her size, spot on.
Had someone... picked this out for her?
Tristan?
That kind of careful "kindness" felt worse than a slap in the face. It made her feel like a mess that had been "handled".
After hesitating for a moment, practical panic beat out her pride.
She took a deep breath, grabbed the outfit. At least it was soft, well-fitted-honestly, stupidly perfect on her, like it had been custom made.
But how would he even know her size? Did he measure her at some point?
She opened the door to the bedroom and stepped out. The hallway outside was stark and minimalistic, deadly quiet.
She crept forward, feeling like a thief who'd snuck into a place she shouldn't be. Just as she was trying to figure out which way led to the front door, a calm, cold voice stopped her in her tracks.
"You're awake."
She froze. Turned around slowly.
There he was, Tristan, standing by the open kitchen island with a cup of black coffee in hand.
"Mr. Seymour." Her fingers clenched the hem of the blazer, nervous and unsure what to do with herself.
What was she supposed to say? Apologize? Ask questions? Pretend it didn't happen?
He didn't respond. Just glanced at his watch and said in a flat tone, "You've got twenty minutes for breakfast. At nine, I have a virtual meeting on the quarterly report."
Breakfast? A meeting?
Her brain couldn't compute. Of all the scenarios she'd envisioned post-one-night-stand, sitting down to eat with her boss wasn't one of them.
"I'm not hungry, Mr. Seymour. Can I just go home?"
Her voice was timid, barely audible. All she wanted was to get out of that suffocating space as fast as possible.
His eyes landed on her, sharp and heavy, like he could see straight through her skin.
"Sit."
Just that one word. Firm, no wiggle room.
Her body reacted before her mind could catch up, jerkily walking over and pulling out the dining chair to sit down.
Soon, a well-dressed, stone-faced housekeeper brought over an immaculately prepared breakfast.
"Eat it," Tristan's voice came from across the table. She hadn't even noticed when he'd sat down, but there he was, a sleek laptop open before him, screen filled with complicated financial charts.
He didn't look up once, like that command had just slipped out of his mouth without much thought.
Under the pressure of his presence, Lorraine found herself chewing mechanically. It all tasted like cardboard, every bite a struggle.
The quiet in the dining room only emphasized the rhythmic clicking of his keyboard-and her own chaotic heartbeat.
Out of nowhere, he added, eyes still locked on the screen, "Hurry up. The doctor's coming soon."
Doctor?
Her hand froze mid-air, still gripping her fork. She stared at him, utterly confused.
Why a doctor? Was he trying to confirm if she was a virgin? Or maybe checking if there was a chance she was pregnant?
He must've picked up on her mood shift because his eyes finally left the laptop. He looked at her, gaze unreadable and deep.
"We did it five times last night. I'm worried you might be hurt."
Hurt? That one word hit her ears like a thunderclap.
Before she could even react, the doorbell rang right on cue.
A man around forty, exuding a calm, professional demeanor, walked in carrying a small medical kit.
"Mr. Seymour," the doctor greeted with a polite nod, then shifted his attention to Lorraine, whose face had gone pale.
He offered a practiced, gentle smile. "Miss Cromwell, right? Don't worry, I'm just here to run a basic check-up to make sure you're feeling okay after... last night."
Though his tone was measured, it still made her feel utterly embarrassed and lost.
She felt like she was being shuffled through some clinical procedure like an object.
Tristan didn't show his face once during the entire check-up.
Once it was done, the housekeeper quietly informed her that the driver was waiting downstairs to take her home.
What she didn't expect was that the "driver" turned out to be Alexander Harris.
They were not only college classmates but also coworkers who had started at the company at the same time. They'd always been close.
Climbing into the car, Lorraine accepted a small ice pack and a bottle of water that Alexander passed back from the front seat.
"Put this on your eyes. They're super swollen."
She took the pack but didn't use it. Instead, she asked quietly, "Alexander... what really happened last night?"
He hesitated, adjusted his glasses, then spoke carefully, "At the team dinner last night, someone might've spiked your drink. Mr. Seymour happened to see something was off with you and stepped in. That's how you ended up leaving with him. I don't know what happened after that."
So it wasn't just regular drunk-it was something more?
And Tristan actually... saved her?
But still...
She leaned back against the cold leather seat, watching the city blur past outside the window. Everything about the night before felt like a twisted, messed-up dream.
She'd somehow lost her virginity-five times, to her intimidating boss, no less. How the hell was she supposed to show up at the office again?