Chapter 1
Evelyn couldn’t shake the feeling that Edward Quinn was either gay or utterly inept when it came to handling business and relationships. After all, there was no other explanation for his extreme aversion to their female manager. Little did she know that he was neither of those things; instead, he was something far more sinister—a true enigma of twisted nature. In every sense, he was warped, especially in matters of desire. The sheer variety of devices and paraphernalia he employed stunned her; she hadn’t even seen such things in adult films. His elaborate games with her body seemed to have one goal: to keep her love at bay. Trapped in this inescapable cage of his design, Evelyn found herself grappling with questions of fate. Was this a premeditated seduction, or had she willingly and gradually succumbed to his dark allure? The chasm of desire dragged her deeper into a pit of obscurity. Was she the one with the filth hidden beneath a glamorous facade, or was it him? Shadows of depravity and temptation loomed large. Would she succumb to the lure of his haunted desires? Edward, with his dark allure, was no gentle manager. He was a man defined by his flaws—intense, violent, domineering, and extreme in his approach. His obsessive need for control bordered on the perverse, and his aversion to indulgence hardly masked his love for the taste of dominance. Evelyn was no strong character, too soft to stand against the tempest of his obsession. Her fragility needed no pretense; readers should temper their expectations regarding her potential for empowerment. There was a clear dichotomy here—one was a sadist blissfully indulging in his proclivities, while the other was a masochist lost in her weakness. Consider whether you can tolerate the gravity of their intertwining fates before deciding to plunge into this narrative. “I want to experience every intimate act with you,” he whispered, dismissing her as merely a manager while stealing quick kisses in the most unexpected places. Passion surged during rainy days and was savored on gloomy afternoons by the shore, forever immersed in an endless cycle of debauchery and tender chaos. **Warning:** This narrative is a slow burn. It will not unfold its more explicit content until after the hundredth chapter; if that’s something that troubles you, tread carefully. **1V1 SC HE**
Chapter 2
Under the dim lights, the beat of the music pulsed through the room as wave after wave of sound crashed over the crowd. Red wine swirled in glasses, and the unmistakable click of high heels echoed against the floor. Evelyn leaned back at the bar, her deep auburn waves cascading over her shoulders, crossing her legs in a way that drew attention. Occasionally, her gaze wandered to the smoke-filled dance floor ahead, where bodies twisted together in a frenzied dance. The volume of the speakers crept into her consciousness, stirring a craving for something more than just the rhythm of the night. Around her, the other managers—the ones dressed in their trendy attire—seemed intoxicated, not just by the alcohol but also by their desires. Some were already entangled, lost in heated kisses, while others were brazenly touching one another, pushing the boundaries of public decency. Each swipe against skin sparked their rawest instincts, a very primal need brought to the surface as the music deepened in intensity. In this crowd, where faces blended into anonymity, it was all about fleeting pleasures for one night—nothing more, nothing less, and for Evelyn, that was perfectly fine. “Hey there, beautiful, let me buy you a drink,” a guy with a somewhat scruffy appearance and a cocky smirk approached her, holding out a bottle. Evelyn glanced at the bottle, recognizing it as a cheap beer. She wasn’t born yesterday; she could tell there was a catch. Eyeing the man, she narrowed her gaze before downing the remaining red wine in her glass, swiftly snatching her designer bag and heading for the door. “Wait, gorgeous! Don’t leave yet!” he called out, clinging to her as she pushed through the entrance of The Jest Tavern. As she stepped outside, the crisp night air filled her lungs, and she took a moment to breathe, shaking off the claustrophobic vibe of the bar. Damn it. She cursed inwardly, frustrated that Clarissa had recommended this dreadful place. She had dressed to impress, in a daring outfit that highlighted her curves, and now she couldn’t help but feel that it had only invited unwanted attention from losers. Looking down at herself, she noted the way her fitted dress clung to her figure, the neckline plunging just enough to tease but not to reveal too much. She had chosen this dress deliberately, wanting to provoke just a little envy. During her younger years, Evelyn had struggled with her body image—her curves had always been a target of rumors, and she would have much preferred to blend in than stand out. As a teenager, her bust had developed faster than most, leading to awkward moments where she felt exposed. Too aware of the gazes from others, she often opted for baggy clothes to hide what she considered her liabilities. To a college girl fighting to normalize her body, she had even tried to tone down her bust. Yes, you read it right—she tried to reduce her breasts. Hours spent exercising and dieting for months produced the opposite of what she wanted; if anything, they seemed to perk up even more. Today, however, she wore this tight dress to embrace her figure, but with the wrong crowd around, it felt like she had played the wrong hand. “Hey, don’t go yet!” The Prowler—now we could call him that—gripped her slender wrist, a drunken fog lingering in his eyes as he tried to pull her back. She turned to face him, irritation bubbling up. He looked disoriented, clearly under the influence. Evelyn knew confronting him directly might lead to trouble. Instead, she coolly asked, “What do you want?” “What do I want?” he chuckled, his breath heavy with the stench of cheap liquor and smoke. “You really dressed like that and expect me to not want you? I want you—let's not play games!” With that, he yanked her closer, pulling her into his embrace. Repulsed by the smell and the invasion of her personal space, Evelyn pushed back hard. “Let go of me!” she shouted, struggling violently against his grip. “If you don’t let go, I’ll call the cops!” At that moment, the thrumming music died down, replaced by the obnoxious clatter of glasses inside, while the cool night air wrapped around her like a promise of freedom. But she knew she had to stand her ground; her dignity was non-negotiable.
Chapter 3
Evelyn held her breath, feeling the manager's piercing gaze as he smirked with an unsettling confidence. “Go on, report me,” he taunted, an amused glint in his eyes. The neon lights flickered sporadically outside the Jest Tavern, casting shadows across the entrance. There were barely any taxis in sight, and the few that lingered seemed oblivious to the drama unfolding around them. Panic gripped Evelyn as she glanced around, desperately searching for help. With her heart racing, she bit down hard on the manager’s arm, and simultaneously, she used her stiletto to stamp down on his shiny shoe. He flinched, the momentary pain giving her just enough of a chance; she bolted forward like a wild animal. “Get back here, you little bitch!” the manager yelled after her, his voice filled with rage as he lunged into action. Evelyn ran blindly, her high heels clacking painfully against the pavement. In the chaos, she tossed the shoes aside, feeling the sharp stones bite into her feet. After sprinting for a few moments, the chilling realization of how foolish it was not to call the police hit her. But as she risked a quick glance back, the manager was already closing in on her again. In a dizzying blur, she collided with a solid figure. Gasping, she looked up to find Edward Quinn, his expression cold, brows furrowed with concern. Relief washed over her like a wave, but before she could catch her breath, her knees buckled, and she half-collapsed against him, gripping his pants for support. "You're not getting away that easily," a voice snarled behind them — it was the prowler, having followed closely, leering down at them. “Hey, man, I saw her first,” he said, stepping forward to grab Evelyn. Evelyn looked up at Edward with desperation in her eyes, tugging on his pant leg. Without hesitation, he swatted the prowler’s hand away, locking eyes with Evelyn for a potent moment before assessing their situation. The glowing neon lights pulsated around them, a stark contrast to the dark intent of the night. With a look of distaste, he directed his question at her, “You don’t want to go with him, do you?” She shook her head vigorously. Edward sighed, his frustration palpable. He then grasped her arm, yanking her up with surprising strength, directly pushing past the prowler with a determined stride. “Hey, you can't just take her like that!” the prowler shouted, hot on their heels. “There’s a line, you know? If you want her too, let’s just find a room and have some fun.” Edward’s voice was steady but icy as he replied, “She doesn’t want anything to do with you.” With a swift kick to the prowler's backside, he growled, “Scram.” The pain startled the prowler sober for a moment, and he eyed Edward, who stood impressively composed, radiating power. Realizing he was outmatched, he spat in frustration and took off into the night. Holding tight to Evelyn’s arm, Edward continued forward. She wanted to tell him to slow down, her feet throbbing with pain, but the look etched on his face was so commanding that she stifled her complaints. They hobbled to the nearest taxi, and as Edward helped her inside, she tucked her chin, a nervous smile slipping onto her face. “Thanks…” she murmured, uncertainty lingering in her voice. As the cab sped away, Evelyn glanced back, still feeling the weight of Edward's presence as the world outside turned dark and blurry.
Chapter 4
As Evelyn was about to close the cab door, her boss, Edward Quinn, finally couldn’t hold back any longer. He placed a hand on the frame and said, “Evelyn, I know you have your private time after work, but I’d prefer you, as a married woman, to avoid these kinds of places late at night. It could impact your work the next day.” Evelyn laughed nervously, “Sure, Edward, I’ll keep that in mind for next time.” Edward Quinn, her manager, was a man known for his serious demeanor and high expectations. He stared at Evelyn intently for a moment, as if contemplating saying more, before he turned and walked away. With a sigh of relief, Evelyn wiped her forehead and relayed her address to the driver. Meanwhile, Edward’s mood was frigid as he pulled out his phone to call his assistant. “Yang,” he barked once the call connected, “if you ever park in one of those shady spots again, you’re out of here! Do you understand?” He hung up before Yang could respond. Once inside his car, he loosened his tie and lit a cigarette, feeling slightly calmer. He had been enjoying a promising night after securing a substantial investment with intentions of long-term collaboration. He’d even chatted with his counterpart longer than usual because they shared similar values. But then, out of nowhere, he’d seen his young clerk out late at one of those clubs. It was truly shocking. The usually buttoned-up and shy clerk had shocked him by showing up dressed that way in such an establishment. It made him doubt his judgment as a manager. How could he have misjudged her character after nearly three years of working closely together? Edward had a no-nonsense approach with his staff, particularly with personal clerks. He cycled through them almost every three months before Evelyn arrived. But tonight had been a wake-up call about her hidden side. After finishing his cigarette, Edward started the car and headed home, his thoughts clouded. The next day, as Evelyn arrived at work, she was told by the staffing department that she had been reassigned from her role as the CEO’s clerk. She was now to report to the logistics department. Evelyn felt her luck had run out—her husband of three years turned out to be gay; her first venture into nightlife led her to a seedy club, where she had been harassed by a creep and, to top it all off, she’d run into her austere boss. As she packed her things, she nearly ran into Edward Quinn, who was just arriving for the day. He shot her an icy glance before striding past her into his office. “Great, just wonderful,” Evelyn muttered to herself, feeling utterly defeated. Her phone rang, and it was her friend Clarissa. “Did you break your dry spell last night? How was it?” Clarissa's question was blunt. “Please! You actually thought it would be fun with the awful place you sent me to? Just you wait until I see you!” Evelyn spat, her mind racing back to the club that had felt more like a nightmare. “It was a fancy place, Ev! Five-star service, what did you expect?” Clarissa defended herself. “Fancy? It was revolting! Five-star? More like a horror show!” Evelyn retorted, her voice rising in frustration. “Wait, are you sure you went to 79 Green Street?” Clarissa questioned, sensing something was off. “Of course! As soon as I pushed the door open, I walked right in. There was no ‘members only’ nonsense like you said!” Evelyn's frustration grew, her voice echoing in the almost-empty office.
Chapter 5
Just as Evelyn was getting into the rhythm of the conversation, she suddenly felt a chill pass through the air, as if the temperature had dropped several degrees. Then, she heard a sharp rap against the glass. Turning around, she saw Edward Quinn standing at the door of his office, his brow furrowed in irritation as he knocked on the glass wall. Seeing Evelyn look back, Edward Quinn said impatiently, "Evelyn, it's work hours. Please be mindful of your behavior." "Oh, right! My apologies!" Evelyn hurriedly ended her phone call and bowed slightly towards Edward. As the manager turned to step into his office, he paused halfway through the door and glanced back. "Yesterday, you were on Green Street," he said, then continued inside. Just as Evelyn exhaled and prepared to leave, he stepped back out again, his voice now serious and sharp. "79 Green Street is a high-end club. Although I shouldn’t involve myself in your personal time, you are a married woman, and I expect my employees to refrain from such lowly indiscretions. First, it affects your work; second, it easily tarnishes the company’s image. Third, I personally loathe this sort of conduct. Be careful." With that, he strode back into his office and slammed the door with a heavy thud. The sound of the door startled Evelyn. It took her a moment to gather her thoughts. She didn't dwell on his first two points, but the last one felt like an ultimatum. The meaning was clear: if her behavior continued down this path, she would be fired. Sighing, Evelyn reflected on her three years as Edward’s assistant. She was well aware of his character—serious, meticulous, and regimented, living life like clockwork. Edward’s expectations for even ordinary female employees were exceedingly high: they were to be diligent, practical, loyal, kind, and preferably nurturing. He had a personal gauge, and he discarded anyone who crossed certain lines. Gossip and prying into personal affairs were strictly prohibited. All non-work-related matters and emotions were to be kept at bay, confined to off-hours. The company operated like a well-oiled machine, orderly and efficient. Because of this, it was hard to argue against the formidable success of Merrick Enterprises, which had gained significant recognition in the industry over the past five years, securing its place among the top fifty firms in Hawthorne. A mere thirty-one years old, Edward had achieved all this with his own hands, earning him the title of a legend. For someone of his remarkable caliber, Evelyn felt nothing but reverence; in her eyes, Edward Quinn was not merely a "boss." Not only was his professional skill impressive, but also his personal life was as unblemished as a monk’s. In the three years she had served as the president’s assistant, she had never seen him involved in any scandal or dating rumors. No girlfriends. No female friends. It was as if he had no interest in women whatsoever. She had even wondered if he might just be asexual. Any outsider who attempted to approach him was quickly rebuffed. Among the 32nd floor, she was the only woman, the sole female manager allowed into this sphere, while everyone else had been clerks. But now, even she had been shown the door.
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