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Chapter 3
Seol Tae-geon stormed into the Vice President’s office like a bullet.
Bang—!
The door slammed shut behind him.
Han Bom, following a step behind, stopped in front of the firmly closed door, blinking blankly.
The secretary stationed inside, Jung Joo-eun, widened her eyes at the abrupt noise before she even had time to greet him.
“He’s already gone in?”
Wearing her usual faint, polite smile, Han Bom pulled out the chair beside Joo-eun and sat down.
“Nothing happened while I was out, right?”
“Nothing on our end.”
As if she had been waiting for this moment, Joo-eun instantly swiveled her chair closer.
“But I heard there was a huge commotion in the conference room?”
Joo-eun was always the fastest with news. It was as if she had hidden antennas planted in every corner of the company.
Han Bom feigned ignorance.
“Oh? I wouldn’t know.”
But Joo-eun wasn’t fooled. She dragged her wheeled chair closer until their knees almost touched.
“They’re saying Vice President and that guy—David Young, was it?—went at it. Like, fists flying, teeth knocked out. I heard three teeth were broken!”
“And what about his arm?”
“Wait—did he break his arm too?”
Han Bom opened her laptop, lips curling in an amused smile.
Realizing she’d been teased, Joo-eun pouted in disappointment.
“Tell your informants to check their facts. If false rumors spread, it won’t do the Vice President’s image any good.”
“Yes, ma’am!”
Joo-eun gave a tiny mock-salute, making Han Bom’s tense shoulders loosen just a little.
“Still, the Vice President looked pretty upset. I thought things were resolved?”
“They were resolved.”
David Young had been suspended on the spot. Stunned into silence by his own president’s fury, he hadn’t been able to utter a word. And when Seol Tae-geon issued a sharp warning about pursuing legal punishment, the man had all but fled the conference room. He was probably already booking the earliest flight home.
“Unbelievable there are still men like that.”
Joo-eun shuddered.
“Honestly, if not for the Vice President, you could’ve been in serious trouble, Miss Han.”
Han Bom finally let herself acknowledge it—yes, the situation really had been that dangerous.
Then Joo-eun tilted her head curiously.
“But don’t you think the Vice President was… out of character?”
“What do you mean?”
Joo-eun scoffed.
“Come on. Vice President Tae-geon is the kind of man who’ll walk straight past someone tripping at his side without so much as a glance. Remember what happened with Director Yoo Mina from J Department Store?”
It took a moment for Han Bom to recall, then—
“Ah.”
One year ago, Ato Beauty had held a special product showcase on the ground floor of J Department Store—an honor usually reserved for luxury cosmetics brands.
But the real reason was Director Yoo Mina’s ploy. She had orchestrated the entire event just to meet Seol Tae-geon in person, shrouded as he was in mystery.
Han Bom sighed at the memory of the woman clinging to him like ivy.
“Yes… that incident.”
Because of his prickly nature, Tae-geon had never once experienced a proper romance. Naturally, he was oblivious to Yoo Mina’s intentions.
“He just doesn’t understand when someone sends signals.”
Han Bom muttered under her breath.
Desperate to catch his attention, Yoo Mina had devised a scheme: she’d pretend to trip, forcing him to catch her.
But she’d chosen the wrong target.
Confident he would save her, she had deliberately stumbled—only to end up sprawled miserably on the floor.
“Did you know that photo of her falling is still circulating as a meme online?”
Both women sighed in unison.
After that debacle, Ato Beauty’s premium lines and devices were permanently expelled from J Department Store. They would never set foot there again.
“Anyway… what’s happening with that perverted guy from Lugal?”
“Oh, that—”
Before Han Bom could answer, Chief Secretary Choi Moo-gil cleared his throat as he approached.
He had been present in the conference room from beginning to end.
“Once again, our Secretary Han saved the day.”
Known for his talkative nature, Moo-gil’s arrival was welcomed by Joo-eun.
“Come on, tell us the details!”
Always approachable, the man puffed up his chest and began.
One by one, staff from Tae-geon’s direct office gathered around, drawn in as if to a campfire story.
“Here’s how it happened. The moment David Young started running his filthy mouth, Secretary Han gave me the order.”
At that time, Young had been spouting degrading jokes about flight attendants. Han Bom, anticipating disaster, had quickly texted Moo-gil.
[If the video conference with Lugal’s board is ready, switch it on now.]
It had already been decided that Lugal’s president would join remotely, but none of the local executives knew.
And just as the setup finished—David Young crossed the line.
“So his little outburst was broadcast live to the entire Lugal board.”
Moo-gil smirked.
“Seeing him get chewed out by his own boss? Delicious.”
The staff burst into laughter.
Only Han Bom stayed quiet, her eyes drifting back to the closed office door.
‘These days, I can’t read him at all.’
Nine years ago, she had joined Ato Beauty’s planning team as a rookie, quickly becoming its ace. Chairman Seol Gu-cheon had noticed her, assigning her as his secretary for three years.
Five years ago, he had made her an unexpected offer:
‘While I’m away, I want you to look after Vice President Tae-geon. Think of it as filming <My Difficult Boss>.’
At first, she refused.
Her secretary job had been for research—material for her writing. She had always intended to return to planning, focusing on her novels.
Until the Chairman dangled an offer.
‘What if I double your salary?’
She had bitten her lip. She shouldn’t have agreed so easily.
But with her younger brother’s tuition and her father’s debt, what choice had she had? Her novels weren’t profitable yet.
It was supposed to be temporary. She told herself that nothing in life came free.
But she hadn’t calculated correctly. The workload was worth ten times the raise.
‘I should’ve asked for more.’
Serving Seol Tae-geon was like handling a wild beast that could turn any second.
‘Still, lately, he’s been… almost sociable.’
Her brows furrowed.
Except—during the meeting earlier, she had caught him glancing her way, again and again.
‘Like he wanted to start a fight with me right then and there.’
Meanwhile, inside the office—
Seol Tae-geon was pacing restlessly.
“Why the hell does it keep popping into my head?”
The problem was those damn red heels.
The very same red enamel heels that had starred in the most infamous scene of The President’s Secret Appetite.
Heat flared through his body. He yanked his tie loose and unbuttoned his collar, pressing a hand to his waist as he tried to steady his ragged breathing.
“Don’t think about it. Don’t remember. Erase it.”
Muttering, he even began reciting the national anthem.
But it was useless. With every word, the vision grew sharper:
Han Bom, perched casually on a desk, long legs crossed. The slit of her H-line skirt gaping just enough to expose smooth, pale thighs—
“I’ve lost my mind.”
He shook his head furiously.
“Why is it so damn hot in here?”
His throat burned. Maybe a glass of cold water would help.
His hand hovered over the intercom—then stopped.
If he called, she would be the one to enter.
The same woman who had wrecked his once-pristine life.
Because until he discovered her secret pen name, he had lived clean.
No drinking. No smoking. A man of law, principle, and regulations.
Rules and goals had always been his foundation. His future.
Until that day.
“I should never have read it.”
What began as a simple background check, a petty attempt to one-up his secretary, had opened a door he couldn’t close.
“Who could have guessed… that my secretary was a writer of erotic novels.”
Her pen name: Secret Spring.
Ten years. Twenty novels. And her fame had skyrocketed after she started writing secretary stories.
The titles were atrocious.
<The Boss’s Sweet Release>
At first, curiosity drove him. He had thought it meant a boss’s “troubles.” He wanted to understand, maybe empathize.
But the very first chapter had shattered him.
That wasn’t the kind of release he expected.
Shock. Horror. Disbelief.
“What kind of thoughts does she have, to write something like that?”
The “forbidden zone” he had sealed off all his life—Han Bom had blasted it wide open.
And he had discovered something terrifying: his “pure, righteous” masculinity was fragile. Easily tempted.
His face flushed.
Worse, every time he imagined her writing those scenes, his brain automatically cast her as the heroine.
Knock, knock, knock—
His head snapped up.
“Wh… who is it?”
The handle turned.
The door creaked open.
And there it was—slipping inside first.
A glint of red enamel.
The tip of a high heel.
