10 rules of a Secretary chapter 39

“You were in heat, releasing pheromones, and at first…”

Trailing off, he let the words fade as he brought my fingertips to his lips once more, then finally let go.

The sound of his kiss still echoed in my ears, lingering from last night until now.

I couldn’t even count how many times he had kissed and sucked on me—it was embarrassing to even try.

Suddenly, I noticed his lips, covered in small wounds.

Hesitating, I lifted my hand and carefully traced his lips.

Damn it, why does he keep coming to me looking like this when I’ve been taking care of him? It annoyed me.

“Will you accept my apology? Please?”

He tilted his head slightly, as if pleading, and his fine hair swayed briefly on his forehead.

It gave me goosebumps. Maybe it was because I’d never seen him like this before.

The Han Doha who was desperately trying to hold onto a one-night stand was a stranger to me.

As soon as I realized the difference, I quickly pulled my hand away in shock.

Han Doha, still murmuring, gently cupped my cheek.

“No, I’m not trying to push you into anything if you don’t want it, but…”

After saying that, he stepped back slightly and wrapped the bed sheet around my body, as if he were packaging me neatly, leaving no skin exposed.

After carefully tucking me in, he cupped my cheek and chin with one hand, leaving another featherlight kiss on my lips.

It was a tender touch, barely there.

“Still, think about it. The contract is on the coffee table in the living room. The clothes you came in were soaked in pheromones, so I threw them out. I’ve prepared new ones in the living room as well. You can stay here as long as you like.”

I remained silent with my head lowered until I felt the mattress lightly bounce.

I looked up to find Han Doha standing a step away, gazing down at me.

He smiled a painted-on smile and gently brushed aside the wig that fell to my shoulder blades.

“If you don’t want to show your face, you don’t have to. But take off the wig. It doesn’t suit you.”

“…”

Is it because you prefer black hair?

The information Ha Eunjoo had shared about his past lover slowly surfaced in my mind.

I’m not sure how big the difference is between a sex partner and a lover, but if we minimize emotional exchange, wouldn’t the partner arrangement be more advantageous?

Then again, the betas Han Doha dated weren’t exactly his lovers either.

They never went out on dates or anything, and their meetings were infrequent, so could they even be considered a relationship?

I stared blankly at his face and reached out from under the blanket to grab his hand.

Then, I traced a word on his palm with my fingertip.

[Omega.]

“I’m an alpha.”

[Me.]

“Exactly. Is it so strange for an alpha to be with an omega?”

Han Doha was the one who detested this the most, so his question struck me as odd.

As I gazed at him, Han Doha chuckled and sat back down on the edge of the bed.

“You’re an omega, and I’m an alpha. Isn’t that how it’s supposed to be?”

“…”

“Or do you think I should be with a beta?”

That’s exactly what I wanted to say.

Why was he suddenly coming after me when he had always stuck to betas?

Didn’t he once say he’d rather cut off a limb than be with an omega?

A shiver ran down my spine, and I trembled.

Han Doha lightly tapped the nape of my neck, still wrapped in the bed sheet.

“If that’s not it, think about it. Let’s set the deadline for next week. Same time, in this room.”

He kissed my cheek again, like a lover would, then left the room, hesitating as if he didn’t want to go.

Even after hearing the door close, I sat there for a while, feeling empty. I let out a weary sigh and muttered to myself.

“Where does he get off speaking so casually…”

Of course, Han Doha, my boss, had every right to speak informally to me.

Even though I was a brat, there was no way I could defy the power and social hierarchy that money commands.

But not now. I couldn’t stand hearing him speak casually to me any longer.

I thought it might be better to add a few years to my real age instead of going by the fake one on my profile.

Though I should probably think about whether I should sign that contract first.

I couldn’t hold back another sigh as I tossed my mask and wig onto the bed and stumbled toward the bathroom.

Standing in front of the mirror, I was momentarily at a loss for words.

Han Doha didn’t leave any marks on my neck or wrists, which was a relief.

But the rest of my body—stomach, waist, back, hips, even the insides of my thighs—was covered in marks, like a canvas painted by some mad artist.

Looking down at the lone band stocking on one thigh, I saw that it was still damp, bearing the remnants of last night.

Hoping against hope, I felt around my body and realized with a grimace that he’d cleaned me up but left the stocking on.

What a lunatic.

Should I be lamenting that my boss is the world’s biggest pervert, or should I curse myself for engaging in this pseudo-sexual activity with him?

My lips moved involuntarily.

“This crazy bastard…”

In the end, the anger was directed back at Han Doha. Muttering every curse I could think of, I sighed again.

As I touched the marks, some stung sharply.

I pressed down on them repeatedly, and when I noticed the particularly large one on the inside of my thigh, I reflexively stepped back.

‘You’re beautiful.’

‘Why are you so beautiful?’

‘Damn it, your body can make something rise from nothing.’

‘See? No hair here, so it’s perfect for my mouth.’

Covering my mouth with my arm, I let out a silent scream.

I pounded the bathroom wall with my fists and flailed until I saw my reflection in the mirror and sank to the floor.

My face was flushed, just like my body, which was covered in bruises.

Time was not on my side. I felt it acutely over the weekend, realizing why they say time flies like an arrow.

Pressing my palm against my tired eyes as I entered the company lobby, I reflexively took out my suppressant and antacid and swallowed them.

It was a good thing I had sprayed deodorant before coming out.

I lifted my arm to check for any smell but stopped myself.

What good would it do?

“Hah…” I sighed deeply as I got into the elevator.

My stomach felt uneasy.

Absentmindedly rubbing my wrist, I suddenly remembered the feel of his lips on the soft skin where the artery ran.

My face flushed instantly, and I couldn’t bear it any longer.

I got off the elevator halfway and ran to the emergency stairwell.

Clinging to the handrail, I let out a series of silent screams before collapsing in a corner.

I was mortified, truly wanting to die. How was I supposed to go to work? More importantly, how was I supposed to face Han Doha? You might think it would be easy to go about my day since he hadn’t seen my face, but there were some problems with that idea.

First, no matter how thick-skinned someone is, after engaging in pseudo-sexual activity… there’s no way they could act normal in front of their partner, especially if that partner is their boss.

And I am definitely not thick-skinned.

Second, the person in question is my boss, whom I see every day at work.

Now that we’ll be meeting on weekends too, we might as well be closer than lovers.

Third, if it ever got out that I, an omega, was the one involved, I’d be fired, sued, and possibly decapitated.

The idea of my head and body separating like a strawberry stem and floating off into the sea was terrifying.

There was one strange thing, though.

Why did Han Doha, who can’t stand omegas, make such a crazy proposition to me, the model in question? What’s different?

“Wait. He doesn’t know? He doesn’t know. He’s not supposed to know?”

Come to think of it, Han Doha really didn’t know it was me.

I never expected the answer to the question that had been tormenting me since yesterday to be so simple.

“Well, I don’t know.”

Upon reaching that brief conclusion, I felt a strange mix of relief and inexplicable emptiness.

Should I feel relieved that the man who had been by my side for eight years didn’t recognize me, or should I feel disappointed?

Objectively speaking, the former is the more rational conclusion, but… I felt indescribably odd.

Just yesterday, on a golden Sunday afternoon.

Wearing the loose, baggy clothes that Mr. Hwang had prepared, I nearly fled from the hotel and kept questioning myself even after I got home.

‘How am I going to face my boss?’

I kicked the blanket off, and shouted like a mad person.

I was so embarrassed that I genuinely wished I could hide in a mouse hole and die, or bury my face in dishwater, or suffocate under the blanket.

I really didn’t want to go to work on Monday.

I considered taking sick leave for about three seconds, but then dismissed the idea.

Taking a break would only be a loss for me.

Meanwhile, Cha Chiyeon saw me screaming and asked what was wrong and how it happened, but I couldn’t answer.

Was it that I looked like I was about to have sex with my boss?

Or that I looked like a sex partner?

I wanted to ask if I could quit my modeling job, but I was afraid they might demand all the back rent at once, so I couldn’t bring myself to ask.

Why does everything keep going wrong one by one? What did I do so wrong?

After finally calming myself down and entering the secretary’s office, I gave water to the now enormous Paradise by the window and carelessly put down my bag.

I really didn’t want to work.

I wished I could take a week off, but for me, a vacation was a luxury, so it was all just a daydream.