For an entire year, I worked relentlessly for the man I hate with all my heart. For that vile, unscrupulous, tyrannical Artem Gadayev. I could endure anything—but not what he allowed himself. Not his persistent hands on my hips, not his hot lips on my neck. I threw a resignation letter onto his desk… only for the boss to have completely different plans. In them, I was included. Completely. And preferably without clothes.
— I won’t accept your resignation application, — the boss says calmly.
— Why is that?
— Don’t you need money? For your grandmother’s surgery.
— I do, but it’s none of your business.
— Oh, it’s my business, alright. I can give it to you. All of it. Right now. You want it? I’ll transfer it to your card or to the clinic’s account.
— From my future salary?
I feel a catch. The boss isn’t known for generosity—and yet he’ll give such a huge sum?
— For you, Eve.