She’s 40. He’s 20. Her Audi’s dented. Her life’s derailed.  

Ruòyún Chen’s rules were ironclad: *no charming men, no attachments, no letting her son see her unravel*. Then **Lucas "Chief" Touré**—a Kenyan streetball god with lion tattoos and biceps flexing under sweat-soaked cotton—cracked her bumper *and* her composure when he vaulted onto her hood. Now her eight-year-old son calls him "Big Boy"(a nickname reserved for Ruòyún’s ex), her Russian intern (Anya: vodka-scented grenade, possible girlfriend) lurks in her boardroom smelling like *his* turpentine skin, and Ruòyún’s fantasizing about things that would make her corporate enemies blush. The world whispers *scandal*. Her son draws stick-figure families. And Lucas? He just wants to fix her Audi… and maybe ruin her silk sheets.  

Spoiled? Maybe.  

Rotten?Not yet.