The next morning came faster than Sam would have liked. His parents, brimming with excitement, practically shoved him out of the door. They adored Ivanov. Sam, however, could barely stand the thought of seeing him again.
As he stepped outside, a sleek black car sat idling in front of the apartment. A driver leaned casually against the door, spotting Sam immediately.
"Are you Sam Carper?" the man asked.
Sam nodded hesitantly.
"The boss told me to pick you up."
Blinking in surprise, Sam shuffled towards the car. Which boss picks up his colleagues from home? So weird... he thought with a frown. Sliding into the back seat, he barely had time to settle in before his phone buzzed.
Viktor Ivanov.
He stared at the screen for a second too long before answering.
"Isn't it a bit shameless to be late on your first day?" Ivanov's voice was sharp, stern—a far cry from the teasing lilt Sam had grown used to.
Sam stiffened. "Ah... Sorry, sir. I-I'll be there soon."
The call ended abruptly. No goodbye. Sam exhaled shakily. What's with the mood swings...?
By the time he reached the office, he hurried through the lobby, jabbing the elevator button with urgency. His heart pounded as he stepped inside, barely paying attention to where he was going. When the doors opened, he made a beeline for the first room he saw—the meeting room.
Without knocking.
The door clicked shut behind him. Sam blinked. There were other workers, mid-presentation, staring at him in stunned silence. Ivanov sat at the head of the table, posture perfect, face unreadable.
Then that smirk appeared.
"Ah, Sam. How nice of you to join us. Why don't you sit... here?" He patted the empty chair beside him.
Sam swallowed thickly and followed for his own good. He sat stiffly, feeling the tension in the room shift. A minute passed. Then he felt it.
Fingers.
Caressing his thigh under the table.
His breath hitched, eyes flicking toward Ivanov in shock. The man leaned closer, voice soft enough for only Sam to hear. "Why are you so late, hm? You know I don't accept such mistakes... but I'm letting it off because it's you."
Sam's cheeks flushed. "S-Sorry..." he mumbled, heart pounding wildly. Was he always this touchy...?
The meeting continued, but Sam barely registered a word.
--
By afternoon, Sam found himself standing awkwardly in Ivanov's office, the man typing away on his laptop. The room was silent save for the rhythmic clicking of keys.
Sam shifted from one foot to the other. "Uh... boss... I'm standing here for nothing."
Ivanov chuckled, not looking up. "Isn't that the same thing you do at home?"
The jab hit its mark. Sam's eyes narrowed. "That's why I came here! To do something! So give me an order!"
The words came out firmly, frustration lacing his tone. Ivanov finally paused, leaning back in his chair. His gaze shifted—from amused to something deeper. More intense.
"Order you say...?" He tilted his head slightly. "Then... suck me off."
The words hung heavy in the air. Stern. Unwavering.
And Sam could only stare, wide-eyed, heart pounding out of his chest.
"What...?"