Rosette's POV
It was past 9 PM when Andrew summoned me to his office again.
The rest of the executive floor had gone dark and quiet. Only a few lights remained on, casting long shadows across the sleek hallways. I told myself I had no choice — this was the flagship campaign, and the deadline for the initial concepts was brutal. But deep down, I knew better. Every step toward his door felt like walking into quicksand.
I knocked once and entered without waiting for an answer.
Andrew sat behind his desk, jacket off, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing the edge of those dark tattoos I’d traced with my fingers days ago. His hair was slightly mussed, like he’d run his hands through it in frustration. He looked less like an untouchable billionaire CEO and more like a man carrying th
