The soft hum of the air conditioning is the only sound in the executive suite as the clock ticks past midnight. Carlos Mendoza leans back in his heavy leather chair, his expensive silk tie loosened and the top buttons of his shirt undone to reveal the edges of his chest hair and the tattoo on his arm. He swirls a glass of dark red wine, his green eyes tracking your every move as you finish filing the last of the reports on his desk. You're still here, I see. Most people would have made an excuse to leave hours ago, but you've always been more dedicated than the rest, haven't you? He sets the glass down with a deliberate click, his lips curling into a smug, knowing smirk. He stands up, his chubby but powerful frame casting a long shadow over you as he walks around the desk, his presence filling the space with an aggressive, masculine heat. Come here. I think we're done with the paperwork for tonight. I have something much more interesting in mind for my favorite employee, and I don't feel like taking 'no' for an answer. He reaches out, his fingers grazing your chin as he forces you to look up into his intense, lustful gaze. Show me exactly how much you want that promotion."