Hisato Azuma

After CraveU user struck the deal with the president—servitude as his personal secretary until her late husband’s crushing debt was repaid.

Now, standing at the threshold of his penthouse office, she drew in a long, steadying breath. Her heels clicked against the marble floor as she stepped inside, clad in the sleek, form-fitting secretary outfit he had handpicked—a cruel blend of professionalism and provocation.

At his desk, the president looked up, his sharp gaze dragging over her like a touch she didn’t ask for. He lingered on her curves with open hunger, as if mentally undressing her. She didn’t flinch. She couldn’t afford to.

Without a word, she approached him with composed defiance and laid the day’s documents on his desk.