"Hands against the wall" instructs the large, burly attendant with the thick, bushy mustache.

"Excuse me?" I squawk, glowering wildly between the said barricade and him.

"This is protocol for all the new employees" he notifies blandly.

Entering this place was proving to be tougher than buying tickets for the Beyonce concert!

Where on Earth had I ended up in? I should have trusted the premonition I had in the porch of this massive palace people branded as a company.

Imposing floor to ceiling windows, enormous chandeliers, and luxurious art adorned every nook and corner of the space. I felt like a swine covered in dirt and grass while ignorantly sauntering into the premises.

I had been subjected to two different security clearances, where they had confiscated my phone, my wallet and my iPod. To prevent ‘breach of data’ was their defense when I caused a commotion.

How is that possible and how am I supposed to survive this torture, deprived of my music around the border line megalomaniac CEO?

I was being supervised like the luggage that reaches the airport for check in. Human Resources Divison had tagged me with the staff identification card and authorized access to the 28th and 29th floors. I concluded that is the Satan's domain.

They advised that I must immediately report to them if I confronted any discrimination, bullying or other kinds of inconveniences that might impair my ability to perform to the utmost of my abilities in a safe environment.

Who would I have to contact for registering a complaint about the CEO, for blatant harassment and liberal use of creative threats/insults, I had enquired only to be judged as an escapee from the psychiatric ward. May be it bewildered them beyond comprehension that a scrawny human such as me, can lay these misleading claims concerning the man at the top.

"I have nothing on me" I grumble incredulously. They had literally taken everything expect the clothes I had worn.

I couldn't open a jar of Nutella by myself, much less the highly protected systems of their database even if I was interested to explore that mega nerd mission.

"This is standard procedure" he echoes, tone leaning towards irritation. Why is he annoyed when I was the one being handled like a damn virus that could destroy this planet in an instant?

"That is exactly what you had me believing at the last check point and now where are we John? You are secretly holding the Taser gun while I am plotting the quickest escape route. I am not a Ninja or an assassin" I protest using the most random name to frazzle the troll. I had already passed through those complex scanners and didn't understand what else they suspected me of possibly hiding?

"Mr. Byun if you fail to co-operate we have been directed to do whatever is required to ensure your compliance" he acquaints me with the unfavorable consequences. Granted I was meeting the Oh Sehun but this was really blowing things out of proportion. Who did this snobby bastard think he was?

"That will not be necessary" I fume angrily and heed the rude warning. He pats me carefully and I clench my teeth in frustration, the whole time. Great. This is totally the kind of welcome I was anticipating. Instructing me to move ahead, he retrieves my jacket and sneakers from the counter.

"I will be retaining this Mr. Byun and you may collect it when you are leaving." he informs depositing the silver ring I always carried.

When I was very young I had discovered it on the swings at the playground abandoned by the previous owner. It was lying on the ground beckoning my gullible mind with a sort of power I had been unable to resist. Though it had reminded me of my mother's aversion to anything remotely dishonest I had pocketed it stealthily and cherished the shimmering band.

It was the source of comfort and reassurance that I sought from the nerves. The fit had been perfect for my thumb then and miraculously, now it encircled the pinkie finger. Well to be fair my growth spurt had forsaken me faster than the remaining kids of my age and botched the puberty phase. I was still waiting for that Adam’s apple to pop. Where my classmates sported shirts to emphasize their increasing brawn I had uncovered my skinny arms in sleeveless tanks to display the measly muscles I had developed.

Chanyeol had bestowed the title ‘spaghetti king’ on me but I disagreed. If any comparisons were to be made, I believe it would be appropriate to call them thunder bolts. When I held them high they formed lightning shaped figures.

"I am going to draw the line there. You cannot forcefully seize my possessions without my consent" I practically shout brashly.

"We are only obeying the directives given to us Mr. Byun" he reiterates monotonously.

"What can I hide in this itty bitty ring?" I demand stubbornly.

"An itty bitty microchip that transmits any intelligence you gather" he ridicules.

"Intel-inte-intelligence? What?" I splutter unable to believe the kind of crap that he was spouting in a straight faced manner.

"If you could read the latest manual on espionage Mr. Byun you would certainly appreciate my apprehension" he discloses seriously and my palm itches to hit something.

"Don’t bother John. We both know you found that bull in the millions of spy movies you shamelessly watched on repeat” I retort, irked at the treatment I was receiving.

"Not particularly Mr. Byun but it must have been when you were crying over Princess Diaries" he sasses positively burning with pride. Had I just gotten owned by the dude who resembled a bloated walrus? Humiliating. 

"Thank you for manhandling me. It was so nice of you and I am sure your children are extremely proud of their father" I respond scornfully.

"I am impotent Mr. Byun" he announces demonstrating a pronounced sneer as I set foot in the elevator and scan the tag for the 29th level.

"Oh yourself John" I yell exasperatedly and hear them chuckle. ing bullies. They were banding together and hazing a child.

I am greeted by a blast of chill air when I enter the opulent reception area and a pair of tall, attractive, groomed, brunette women glide across the lobby much like the rest of the people. Did they organize crash courses for that? Because their synchronization was impeccable.

"Mr. Oh is ready to see you Mr. Byun" they disclose simultaneously and I recoil in surprise. This type of uniformity was downright petrifying.

"Can’t say I share the same excitement" I murmur to myself passing the staggering oak doors. When they click close behind, the sense of being caged and having my freedom snatched away strikes sharply. The yearning to return the way I had arrived is stronger than anything I have ever experienced. Goodbye world I mourn.

The corridor stretches inwards endlessly and I trail it growing more discouraged. What happened to the simplicity is the best policy?

Did this man never have anything in his life uncomplicated and unsophisticated? He made it ludicrous to revel in the lavishness.

Everything screamed expensive: his fortune, his habits, his employees, his expectations, his achievements and above all him. It was too burdensome.

Finally the sprawling cabin slides into picture and I pause bewitched by the sculpted perfection inside. The sunlight shone on his mane of beautiful hair creating a Halo and it is easy to just admire him from the distance forgetting his talent for being a gigantic pain in the .

The fickle light surely knows how to play tricks: turning the fiction into reality.

Elegant veined hands skim the strewn papers, plump lips brush in unison as he broods and the frown of concentration is etched between his brows. The chiseled planes of his sinful frame make the crisp, white shirt cling to him and the pin striped pants clasps his snugly while he bends forward.

If only he wasn't such a to me I would actually idolize him, perhaps try harder to be in his good graces. But the infuriating truth was that he had compelled me to slog under him despite the fact that this would not help either of us.

"Mr. Byun if you are finished, gawking please be seated. There is a lot to be accomplished today" booms Mr. Oh's wry invitation and I leap ahead shocked due to the sudden intrusion. Where did that come from?

Bloody hell! He had cameras and speakers installed in the ceiling to gratify his paranoia.

Embarrassment fuels my pace and I am traumatized at being caught in the act. I had definitely not done that on purpose.

"Good morning Seonsaengnim" I greet bowing politely and he disregards the courtesy, wholly immersed in the pages in front of him. Go figure.

"I am not your teacher Mr. Byun. Neither do I consider you my student nor do I have the patience to entertain such whims" he remarks indifferently.

"What should I refer to you as Seonsaengnim?" I stress the designation and earn an unimpressed scowl.

"Here, I am the person who controls thousands of people's fates Mr. Byun and rather precariously to keep them on their toes. You unfortunately happen to be one of those variables" he clarifies casually.

Arrogance. It radiated from every pore of his being.

Or more accurately, it was conviction.

He was entirely confident of his capability and authority. The most self-assured man I had crossed paths with and a risk that paid off.

If he decided to pull the plug on anything it would not be because he had the power, but for the sole reason that he had exhausted its worth and usefulness.

"I wasn’t exactly given the choice to decline" I chime in, immediately.

"Humor Mr. Byun comes at an expense" he warns sternly and I sigh. Everything seemed to work that way around him.

His mind was a labyrinth of strategies and I shuddered to imagine what he was potentially plotting or scheming.

Having never solved a Rubik's cube, I had no hope of cracking this egoistic god's motives.

He shifts to adjust the sapphire cufflinks of his button-down and something silver glints between the cleft of his slightly exposed chest. It is a necklace. Distractedly I step nearer to observe the hanging chain and find an intricate, glimmering phoenix pendant. It was small and delicate with outspread wings encircled by a sphere of brilliant gems. It wasn't showy yet it garnered your attention.

"Beautiful" I whisper, awestruck.

"You seem to have no respect for others personal space" he remarks, frowning and I retreat hastily. Real smart, Baekhyun real smart.

Why do I provide opportunities for this guy to despise me? Were we destined to hate and repel each other?

My hate however had a dash of attraction masked beneath.

"What duties will I be assigned to sir?" I inquire changing tacks.

If I had assumed the exterior was stunning then I didn't know what to surmise his office as. Huge shelves were decked with signed memorabilia, amazing paintings, vintage books and leather settees occupied the center. A liquor cabinet contained bottles of scotch, bourbon, vodka, gin, whiskey that by law he was forbidden from consuming.

There isn’t a single thing about him that indicates he is barely a young adult. He ran an empire better than the best of the best businessmen, he had amassed staggering wealth in five minutes and no one could predict what he would own in 10 of those.

"You will be responsible for arranging my schedule, fixing appointments, organizing events, conferences, booking reservations, taking dictations, compiling and preparing reports/presentations, filtering my correspondence, etc." he lists, like I should have been aware of these beforehand.

How am I going to cope with this ton of workload? He indeed meant to have me at his beck and call.

"So I am Mr. Oh's secretary?" I wonder aloud connecting the dots.

"Well you aren't as simpleminded as I gave you credit for Mr. Byun" he states, faking astonishment.

"Why doesn't Mr. Oh have his personal secretary?" I query, aggravated. He was filthy rich and could employ an entourage, to kiss every moment of his existence. He clearly didn't need me.

"He is suspended temporarily thanks to the misadventure you successfully dragged us into" he condemns revealing the 'you uncivilized animal' gaze and a hint of guilt seeps in.

"Oh" I utter, meekly. I suppose I had embraced trouble myself.

"But I have zero experience in all of that" Not once had I boiled an egg properly much less managed somebody’s complete schedule from A to Z. It was a disaster waiting to unfold.

"Rafael will familiarize you to the procedure and guide you through the difficulties" he elaborates.

"What? Beanpole?! He loathes me!" I object.

"Beanpole?" He recaps studying me dubiously.

"That is his...sort of unofficial name" I stutter and he exhales, visibly displeased.

"Mr. Byun this is not for your benefit, it is entirely mine. Keeping that in view it doesn't matter to me whether you are fond of who you’re working with or what you're working on" he speaks firmly.

"Yes sir" I mutter, amply scolded.

"If I hadn't made it evident the first day then let me confirm my intentions again. When I say jump you say how high. That is the extent of obedience I seek from you and that is what you must aim for" he illustrates and I shed invisible tears.

"And for the next 12 months Mr. Byun I am exclusively your priority and you will be my " he pauses as if enjoying a private joke.

"Criado" he ends and I ponder the foreign word ignorantly. He was conversing in Spanish. Did he not want me to grasp what he was insinuating?

"What does that mean?" I ask, anxious and fazed.

"I presume you will learn soon enough. Mr. Byun unless you have any further relevant requests I would prefer proceeding to the meeting" he declares coolly and strides out after dumping stacks and stashes of files for me to lug. Terrific.

I shadow his path quickly while straining to avoid my clumsiness. His polished shoes and elongated legs carry him farther effortlessly but I struggle. The guards surround us, similar to a swarm of bees and remind me of the ridiculously exaggerated dramas Jongdae subscribed to.

Halting near a potted plant he appraises it reflectively. I cannot fathom a sarcastic jibe as I absorb his serious posture and wonder whether the shrub was symbolic and significant. Everyone vacates the premises discreetly and I take the cue.

"Min Jun the keys, please" he summons and the driver exits the flaming, red Ferrari. Before I comprehend what is happening, it is flicked in my direction and I gape obnoxiously.

"I am hoping you know how to drive Mr. Byun" he speculates doubtfully.

"I do. Absolutely. Yes" I react.

"Excellent. If you may" he mentions advancing to the passenger seat. I break into a cold sweat and slink in unsteadily. Why the heck did he trust me with a ing Ferrari? I wasn’t by any means a bad driver but Mr. Oh scrutinizing and criticizing the whole deal, I would undoubtedly crash it.

That is the effect he provoked in me.

“Where are we going Sir?” I probe adjusting and inspecting the various dials.

“The address has been inputted in the GPS, follow the route map” he comments and notices me fidgeting. 

I begin the navigation and it takes us approximately a quarter of an hour to wind up at the destination because I hadn’t dared to maneuver the car as I pleased. We stop outside a colossal structure and I am stunned into silence. His security detail arrives shortly and unlocks the door for him. He exits the vehicle smoothly and I scurry hot on his heels, carrying the lump of documents he had entrusted to me.

“Where are we Sir?”

“The company headquarters” he provides ambiguously.

“Then what was that building from before?” I deliberate, curious.

“That is my personal department” he explains and the aloof expression tells me I should have probably done my research.

Extravagance. He seemed to indulge in it thoroughly.

A team of black, suited professionals join the group and diligently deliver individual briefs which eventually become my obligation to accept. He keeps marching forever and my shoulders ache from the weight. When I am finally on the verge of dropping them, the cubicle approaches and I thankfully put it on the table. The blonde woman drapes his coat to the rack and is dismissed.

“Mr. Byun fetch a cup of coffee” he orders from the chair.

“How much sugar should I add Mr. Oh?” I ask controlling the urge to curse furiously.

“Three cubes” he articulates.

I examine the wide passage and realize I had no clue about where the coffee machine was located. Aimlessly roaming around, I peep inside each room and hunt for it. I get hopelessly lost in the maze of corridors and don’t even remember where I had begun the journey for the godforsaken beverage.

This was the cherry on top of the cake.

The hallways are empty and I search for any sign of personnel who can point me in the correct direction but there is nobody in sight. It was too quiet and creepy.

I wandered this far might as well blindly continue. With that notion I round the curve and stroll recklessly until I hear vague, disconnected noises.

Was someone panting?

Where was it coming from?

My curiosity peaks and I investigate the source of the sound. The erratic breathing intensifies frantically and I discern a hidden alcove.

Soft, masculine laughter echoes sensually and I automatically stick to the wall. The light is dull and dim but their flushed faces are occasionally illuminated. I stress my vision for a better portrayal of the scenario and perceive their ual position.

Initially I cannot process what had captured my attention then in a rush, awareness floods me.

I should have run away from there.

I should have retreated silently and tried to forget what I had witnessed.

But I did not implement any of these sensible and reasonable ideas. It was like my feet were made of lead and attached to the ground.

I was shackled by the fascination and all I could do was watch in horrified fixation.

One of the men--and with a little jolt of additional shock I recognized that it wasn't some man but the legendary artist Zhang Yixing. He stands straight and his spine is pressed against the pillar of the alcove. His head is tilted backward and he gulps the air greedily.

Another husky giggle draws my eyes downward to the male on his knees. His lush, bronze hair clumps and masses in different directions.

Leave! My mind screams at me but I am transfixed by their passionate exchange.

The man's slender lips part as they undo the zipper of the jeans and his tongue a stripe across Mr. Yixing's thighs provocatively. Suddenly the dainty man's crown bobs suggestively and I almost gasp.

That is when a large hand cups my jaw protectively and covers my mouth from behind. It muffles the short grunt that I exhaled from the alarm. I am yanked and slammed against a warm body until the oxygen is knocked from my constricted lungs. The familiar scent of musk and cinnamon invades my senses and the intoxication surges through rapidly.

"Satisfying unfulfilled fantasies Mr. Byun?" Mr. Oh whispers, his words caressing my ear lobes and I hush the moan that threatens to spill from me. His breathing stirred the tiny hairs on my neck, sending a shiver into every cell of my body. Blushing scarlet I tremble at the proximity and feel the scorching heat that radiated among the fabric of our clothes. His hand does not budge and I clutched it, to steady myself.

My heart drums so violently I fear Mr. Oh hears and scorns it.

There is a strange fluttering deep in my belly and I unconsciously crave his exhilarating touch. His sharp hip bones brush against my waist and every inch of me that was attached to him burned fiercely. What was he doing to me?

“Although they are a riveting spectacle, you must not impose uninvited” Mr. Oh muses and I nod to deny his speculations.

“Are you perhaps imagining yourself in that situation?” Mr. Oh smirks and I am mortified. His guess was true and accurate to the core. Only my imagination had him gliding his fingertips over me and NO NO NO. Don’t go there Baekhyun don’t!

Our intimate stance made it impossible to think and clouded my judgment, pushing me down a dangerous road. Am I attracted to Mr. Oh?