Chapter 2

The morning sunlight streaming through the narrow gap in her apartment curtains woke Nichole up the next day. Her head throbbed painfully, the lingering effects of a hangover courtesy of three cans of cheap beer and a night of emotional crying.

Even so, strangely, she felt like she had slept very soundly last night. It was incredibly warm and comfortable. She remembered snuggling up, resting her head comfortably on the exceptionally soft and plush stomach of her giant dog.

The sensation of its thick fur was like the most expensive blanket in the world. All night long, she had slept deeply while occasionally stroking the animal's stomach.

Consciousness slowly began to trickle into her brain, but Nichole was reluctant to open her eyes. She sighed softly, burying her face deeper into her warm 'pillow'.

Automatically, her relaxed fingers moved to stroke the dog's lower stomach again, seeking the soothing softness of its fur.

Wait a minute, Nichole thought, her hand movement coming to an abrupt halt.

Her forehead wrinkled while her eyes remained closed. Why is it hard? Where did all that thick, wool-like fur go?

The surface she was touching and using as a pillow was completely hairless. Its texture had changed into smooth skin that was very warm, firm, solid, and... had very distinct muscle definitions.

What kind of dog has a six-pack?

Slowly, with a sense of dread beginning to creep from the tips of her toes to the top of her head, Nichole opened her eyes.

The sight right in front of her nose made her breath hitch and her heart stop beating for three full seconds. Her still-sluggish brain was forced to process the visual image before her.

That... was a pelvic V-line. And a little further down, that was definitely not the anatomy of a dog. It was the anatomy of a grown man. A grown man who was one hundred percent naked without a single thread on.

A moment of silence. The air in the apartment room felt like it had evaporated into thin air.

Nichole immediately squeezed her eyes shut tightly, almost pinching her own eyelids. She yanked her hand back at lightning speed as if she had just touched scorching iron.

This must be a dream, she chanted inwardly, trying to breathe as lightly as possible so that the 'thing' beneath her head wouldn't notice her presence. Yes, this is definitely a nightmare. A high-level hallucination caused by a broken heart, expired alcohol, and dehydration. I just need to go back to sleep. Inhale, exhale. I haven't woken up yet.

"Hey."

Shit.

The hairs on the back of Nichole's neck stood up fiercely. Panic exploded in her chest. It was a man's voice. A deep, husky baritone voice typical of someone who had just woken up.

A barrage of horrifying questions bombarded her brain. What exactly did I bring home last night?! Wasn't it a stray dog?! Was there a trespassing homeless man on the office roof yesterday, and I ended up dragging him home instead?!

Then, the baritone voice spoke again, this time sounding dangerous, cold, and... very familiar.

"I know you're awake. Stop pretending to be asleep, Nichole, and get your head off my stomach right now."

That voice made Nichole jolt. "Mr. Samuel?! What are you doing here?!"

The shrill scream slipped out of Nichole's throat just like that. She flinched backward with a reflex so strong that she tumbled off the bed with a loud thud.

Nichole's breathing was erratic. Her swollen eyes were now perfectly wide. The man lying casually on her mattress was Mr. Samuel King.

The CEO of King Industries. Her famously iron-fisted boss, who always wore custom-tailored Armani suits and could fire someone over a trivial mistake.

But unfortunately, Nichole's reflex of jumping back gave her a highly unstrategic vantage point. From her position sitting on the floor, she could now clearly see the man's naked body. Completely.

From his broad chest, his sculpted abs, to... all his private anatomy that was not covered by anything at all.

In a panic, Nichole's face turned deathly pale. Her hands automatically patted her own body. Wait, did I... did we... Nichole looked down at lightning speed, checking her clothes. She breathed a sigh of relief; she was still wearing her work clothes from last night. At least the remaining shreds of her dignity were still attached to her body.

Seeing the mixed expression of horror and relief on his secretary's face, Samuel scoffed harshly. His handsome yet perpetually cynical face twisted in annoyance.

"Damn it, do you think I touched you?" Samuel growled, his voice husky and demanding. "Get those dirty thoughts out of your head. You're the one who brought me here last night!"

Nichole panicked immediately. Her hangover-stricken brain tried to piece together the remnants of last night's memory. The building roof. Cheap beer. Bastard ex. A large black shadow. The queue barrier rope... The lobby queue barrier rope!

Oh, she was completely doomed.

Without overthinking, Nichole shifted her position, got on her knees, and bowed until her forehead nearly touched the floor.

"I'm sorry! Please forgive me, Mr. King! I am truly sorry! I swear I don't know what happened!" Nichole babbled rapidly.

"I only remember crying on the roof, and then I saw a lonely stray puppy! I don't know why my eyes saw a man your size as a giant puppy! I must have been dead drunk! Please don't fire me, sir!"

"I'm a wolf. Not a puppy," Samuel corrected in a flat tone. The man sounded far more offended by the term 'puppy' than the fact that he was kidnapped by his own secretary.

Nichole, still groveling on the floor, hurriedly nodded rapidly. "Right, sir! You're right. You are one hundred percent right! You are not a dog, you are a wo—"

Nichole's voice trailed off in the air. She froze. Her position was still bowed with her forehead glued to the floor, but her brain suddenly stopped working.

Wait... what did he just say?

Nichole raised her head slowly. Her eyes blinked foolishly, staring at her boss, who was now leaning against the headboard, looking entirely too calm for a man in such an absurd situation.

"I'm sorry... what did you say, sir?" Nichole asked, making sure her ears hadn't deceived her.

Samuel stared at her with a piercing gaze, his dark eyes seemingly able to penetrate Nichole's skull.

The man let out a long sigh, as if explaining the most basic concept to a toddler.

"I'm not going to hide it because you already saw it last night. And you literally tied my neck and dragged me through the city streets," Samuel said.

"That was my wolf form. I am what you humans know as a werewolf."

Nichole fell silent. Her mouth hung slightly open. She stared intently at her boss's face, searching for signs of deceit, hidden cameras, or at least a mischievous smile indicating that this was all just a prank.

But Samuel King's face remained impassive.

"You're... what?" Nichole whispered, her voice barely audible.

"A werewolf," Samuel repeated firmly. "Wolf-man. Lycanthrope. Whatever term you understand from those cheap fantasy movies you usually watch."

Silence took over the room once again. Nichole blinked once. Twice. Three times.

Then, beyond her control, Nichole snorted softly. The corners of her lips twitched, holding back a hysterical laugh. She wiped her messy face with both palms and nodded in understanding.

She knew it. Those three cans of discount beer from the minimarket last night must have been a defective batch. The drinks were one hundred percent toxic, expired, or laced with hallucinogens.

There was no other logical explanation. Her ex cheated, she got her heart broken, got drunk, and now she was hallucinating that her fierce boss was suddenly naked in her bed, claiming to be a werewolf.

Perfect. Nichole was convinced that she had gone completely insane.