While kissing her, Blake noticed her rabbit-like lips had swollen from his rough kisses, tasting slightly of blood. A strange sadistic desire rose within him as he pushed his tongue deeper, completely claiming her mouth.

She squirmed from the lack of air, but her feeble resistance only made her more lovable. When he finally pulled away, Debbie gasped roughly for breath before convulsing again as his p*nis thrust deeply back inside her.

“Haa. You keep driving me crazy,” he muttered, frantically grinding his hips while interlacing his fingers with hers and pulling them above her head.

Even the breath escaping from her reddened lips felt sweet to him. He was satisfied claiming her below while filling her mouth, swimming his tongue inside as her tight flesh squeezed him pleasurably.

Blake groaned under the pressure of imminent climax and studied her face. Debbie’s hips bounced lightly, begging for more, unable to wait even that brief moment.

Yet her eyes glistened faintly with tears. Her expression and body language created a dissonance—pleading for s*x while crying.

He hesitated momentarily, finding her mood strange. It was peculiar—her body burned with heat while her expression remained cold. He felt on the verge of climax, yet couldn’t read whether she was enjoying this or not.

Enjoying the same s*xual pattern with her brought back her column’s vivid words. Her passionate praise kept pricking at something deep inside him, making it impossible to ignore her expressions.

Suddenly, Debbie pushed his shoulders back, toppling him over. When he hesitated, she climbed on top, quickly taking the superior position and bouncing her hips on his body. His pupils dilated widely. Debbie was incredibly assertive.

He couldn’t see her expression as she tilted her head back toward the ceiling. Though he wanted to ask what was happening, the urgent sensation of approaching climax prevented him from speaking.

Debbie shook her hips violently with inexperienced skill, showing she’d seriously studied the woman-on-top position from back issues.

Her body trembled slightly from the strain, yet she showed no intention of stopping. He found it strange that her serious approach to s*x excited rather than amused him. The fact that she was being so proactive for his sake was more appealing than any erotic photoshoot pose.

His mounting heat brought him to climax without restraint.

Immediately afterward, she twisted away and fled hastily to the bathroom. Blake watched her retreating figure with surprised eyes before laughing involuntarily. How could she be so bold one moment and so shy the next?

Everything remained a mystery, from her constantly changing expressions to their brief time together, but he felt both happy and sorry.

What if they had met again under better circumstances? But could someone like him ever have good connections with others? He couldn’t even imagine a normal future living with Debbie.

“She shouldn’t get more deeply involved with me. That’s what’s best for her,” he thought, even though he’d already mixed bodies with her. He knew better than anyone how contradictory this thinking was.

He wanted happiness yet refused to hope for it. Being with her made him long for an ordinary life, so he mentally pushed Debbie away. He stood quietly before the closed bathroom door, hesitating over what to say. Years of editorial experience proved useless in finding appropriate words for this moment.

“I’m sorry for upsetting you. Even if you never want to see me again after this, I hope you’ll keep my secret,” he said finally.

Loud water sounds came from the bathroom. It was understandable if she felt uncomfortable. Though she had taken her desired position at the end, throughout their encounter Blake had deliberately replicated everything from their first time together.

She couldn’t have failed to recognize him. Learning that Blake was the person she had praised so highly in her column must have been shocking.

“She could confront me about being the phantom thief,” he thought.

Debbie vented her anger by turning the shower handle until it creaked loudly. If she was this angry, perhaps ending things would be easier. Blake didn’t want her entangled with him and becoming unhappy.

He didn’t care if she refused to help with his work. Just keeping his secret would be enough.

“What would a wealthy scumbag do in this situation?” he wondered.

Concluding that nothing could provide comfort, he carelessly dried his hands on a towel, went to his desk, and opened a drawer. He took out a blank check book, signed one check, and tore it out.

Though unsure if it would provide comfort, he wanted to give her substantial money—even if it exceeded her publishing house contract advance tenfold. He stared slowly at his signature before opening Debbie’s bag and placing the blank check in her wallet.

For a moment, he regretted having her sign the contract.

‘It would have been best if she hadn’t become involved with me at all,’ he thought. ‘It’s not too late. I’m planning to throw myself into reckless actions, and I don’t want you shattered alongside me.’

He approached the noisy bathroom, knocked several times, and called loudly, “I put a blank check in your bag. You can terminate the contract if you want. Just don’t get involved with me again.”

Still, only water sounds replied. Blake moved toward the opposite bathroom, mentally apologizing countless times to her, chewing over his undeliverable regret.

He planned to take a very long bath, lacking the courage to face her awkwardly when she emerged from the bathroom. He hoped she would leave without saying goodbye once tired of waiting.

* * *

Gray arrived leisurely at work late morning. Having satisfyingly stretched his body after some time, he felt lighter than usual.

He saw Debbie but walked straight to the editor’s office without acknowledging her. After hanging his hat and coat on the rack and sitting down, Debbie entered with a knock.

She approached with documents, pouting with lips swollen from excessive kissing. Recalling yesterday’s events, Gray casually accepted the papers she handed him.

He assumed they would be her resignation letter. With the blank check, she could afford the contract penalty. Yet he couldn’t understand why his heart ached so much.

“I thought she would hesitate for at least a few days,” he thought with a bitter smile. “Well, quicker decisions are better. Relationships held together by money only last this long anyway.”

Despite these thoughts, his shoulders slumped slightly. Debbie handed over the documents and left the editor’s office, radiating coldness.

Though promoting Ashley, who had been assisting reporters, would have been the right move, his joy at seeing Debbie again had led to unnecessary trickery that caused irreversible hurt.

“I’m selfish. I can barely handle my own life and can’t take responsibility for anyone else,” he thought, busy contemplating his own future.

With a bitter expression, Gray examined the documents she had delivered. Feeling parched, he took a sip of coffee he’d bought on his way to work.

He spat out the coffee while looking at the papers. He hastily grabbed something to wipe the coffee stains.

“Miss Patch’s Secret Interview”

It wasn’t a resignation letter. She had submitted her column.

“Do you know how dirty it feels to receive secret seduction from your boss?” read the first line. He desperately read what Debbie had written, barely managing to grip his stiffening neck.

The passionate encounter between the two in the same space and time had played out completely differently than either had expected.

* * *

“Do you have any idea why I called you here?”

Blake—whom she mentally labeled “boss” but read as “bastard”—scanned Debbie’s body with sticky eyes. She glanced around nervously.

There was no one to call for help. Only the president and she occupied the top floor. Worse, he sat with crossed legs in what was clearly a completely n*ked nightgown, casually swirling a wine glass.

‘What’s this? Does he think sharing wine will suddenly create a romantic atmosphere?’ she thought.

Screaming seemed pointless—the photographer on the first floor wouldn’t hear her. Fret and the butler she’d encountered on her way in wouldn’t save her if that scumbag tried to take her by force; they would only cover it up.

She wanted to cry but refused to give in completely. Being thrown into his carefully laid trap and moving according to his wishes wounded her pride.

“Answer me. I asked if you know why I called you,” he pressed. Debbie realized she was trembling.

“So this is why the butler wished me ‘a good time,'” she thought. The idea that she was no different from Henrietta made her blood boil. She felt furious and shaken that she had willingly entered the place where this beast intended to violate her.

Should she punch him? Bite his arm? Or pretend to comply before kicking him in the groin at the crucial moment?

Yet winning that way would mean immediately losing the larger game. The contract that Gray held like a leash around her neck was ultimately approved by the president. Moreover, the contract’s penalty clause remained, and antagonizing the president here would do her no good.

“Filthy, despicable man,” she thought, trembling with rage. He seemed to think money and power entitled him to treat women however he wanted. That’s why he asked in this manner.

Debbie took a deep breath. The problem was that she couldn’t easily dismiss Blake’s existence.