Santa Hot Bad คุณซานต้าแบดกว่าที่คิด

Things are not going well inside the office.

Mr. Hamilton's partners are not very diplomatic, but they maintain the right elegance when it comes to addressing him.

Black Hamilton usually imposes himself before all the people who come to him, sometimes I do not know if what he imposes exactly is fear or respect, or both.

I didn't join the company long ago but if something I've learned with the passage of these two weeks that I've been in his private office, is that real businesses are brought to discussion once the schedules of public functions end or once it begins to sunset.

They've been in there for two and half hours. And it's the third time I've heard my boss's partner raise his voice. There's something wrong there. I try to approach the door, but then I decided not to. I keep my hand close to the mobile in case I have to call emergencies at any time.

Sometimes these people truly scare me, I just hope they don't hurt him.

Black gave me work, although he keeps himself with a huge cold demeanor and does not utter a single word about his private life, he treats me with a lot of seriousness and respect, but he keeps me working until late hours, even though the rest of the people in the company have already gone home, I can not move from my position.

He recognizes my hard work by paying overtime, but to tell you the truth, I don't complain, I need this place. Working for him teaches me a lot about my career, besides it is something that allows me to be the economic pillar that my family needs in this difficult moment.

"Fuck You, Hamilton!"

The voice makes me jump and I quickly return both my eyes and hands to the keyboard, pretending that I'm working.

The truth is I've finished my work an hour ago, but if I stayed it was also for the safety of my boss.

He is a man who at his young age of thirty. Eight years older than me, has managed to make a great fortune and business with powerful people. An entrepreneur of all letters, although much is said about how quickly he amassed his fortune.

Jack Robinson, a long-time business partner in the business, opens the door and leaves with his two companions, scary-looking behemoths, to the outside of the office.

"See you later, Mr. Robinson." I greeted him with some fear.

But they left completely ignoring me and I feel stupid for the gesture.

That's been tense!

Once, the secretary who accompanies me in the morning at the secretariat, told me that Robinson is a front-line thug who does not like Mr. Hamilton doing business with him. I don't know what they're gonna get at, but whatever it is, it's not working.

I stand and walk to his office. They retreated without worrying about closing the door, so I take the audacity to approach, with my heart in a fist and the fear of finding me a pitiful scene.

Luckily, they didn't hurt him. Apparently.

He is sitting with his elbows on the desk with his hands holding his head as if it was going to explode at any moment. This gives me a huge fear. The powerful man whom everyone fears, whom everyone admires and respects, now seems distorted.

A lot of things I've seen going on in here, but I'm not talking about anything, of course.

Less of the scene I just witnessed.

And I can't help it. "Are you all right, sir?" I ask by knocking on the door, on the other side.

He sighs and says. "You can come in, Mina.'

This hadn't happened before, but I obliged. I push the door open and go in. The night and the lights of the whole city enter through the huge window in his office.

"Yes?" I ask, scared. His black hairs disheveled, the collar of his shirt is open and the cuffs of his white shirt are rolled up to his elbows. I've never seen him look like that before. He looks terribly tense and worried. "Do you need me to bring you a glass of water?" I asked softly.

"Please," he says while massaging his neck.

There is a small refrigerator in his office, to which I approach and take out a jug of fresh water. I place this and a glass on a silver fountain and bring it closer to his desk.

He continues, massaging his nape with great discomfort.

"Do you need anything else, Sir?" I ask, after bringing him things.

If, anything builds fear in others towards Hamilton it's his tattoos. Many say he came from underground world, but I'm sure they say it because they can't stand seeing his hands and neck tattooed. The only visible parts under that suit. Now I also see his forearms tattooed and without his sack, the ink is transparent behind the fabric. His pectorals and back are also illustrated with body art.

"Yes," he says, "I never thought I'd ask for this, but...hell, I got a strain in my neck. Could you help me with that?"

Oh, my god!

My heart beats against my chest to hear him say that. "Forget it, I'd better go to my house and take some sleeping pills with a whiskey." Taking a sip of the fresh water he continues. "Your face shows that you are surprised. Sorry, don't say I asked for that, please." He muttered.

"No, no, sir. That's fine. I'm not good at massages, but tell me where... I've to push." I don't know at what point my tension ends up mutating to excitement. Fear and adrenaline mingle within me. I see him worried and I'd like to help.

He looks at me with his green eyes and nodded as he points to the crease of his neck with his shoulder. "Please, there" He indicates me.

I rub my hands to warm them a little so as not to touch him with cold hands. The heat soon takes over me. And I leaned my side to his executive chair.

I place my hands on the fabric of his shirt and the contact leaves me ecstatic.

"Wait," he says and open the first two buttons of his shirt. "Now. You can do it." He says and I did.

I gently press, swallowing my nerves. And madly enjoying the contact with his skin, the sight of his disheveled hair and the tattoos invading his shoulders.

"Mina..." He murmurs his voice appeared hoarse.

"Yes... Sir?" I replied.

"Can I trust you?"

"You can trust me, sir."

"Thanks. It is very difficult to have someone you trust nowadays. This makes me very tense and it is difficult to have anyone to ask for a favor." He said.

"Ask me what you want, Mr. Hamilton." I replied.

"You're amazing, I'll make it up to you. I'm exhausted with all this. And I need you to give me an assistance..." He says.

"Oh!"

"Can you keep a secret?" He asked.