He wasn't sure how he ended up tied to a bed with a headache so bad he couldn't see straight, but he had a feeling it had something to do with the Apollon staff party and all those shots.
What the fuck.
"Antonio," Kotetsu croaked out in a hoarse voice. "If you're behind this I'll rip out so much of your chest hair you'll never-"
"I don't know who you're talking about, Tiger, but he certainly wasn't the one who did this lovely work."
A familiar, slightly husky voice tinged with a French accent made it's way, sickeningly sweet, to Kotetsu's ears. He knew exactly who the voice belonged to, and that knowledge twisted his stomach. Afraid to look up and yet unable to keep his eyes away, he craned his neck back as far as he could to see the face of the culprit behind this - Agnes Joubert. That bitch of a producer, wearing some sort of skimpy leather get up that did nothing to hide her voluptuous breasts.
With one long, slender finger, she traced along the intricate silk ropes holding Kotetsu's wrists firmly to the bedposts and smiled wickedly.
Kotetsu struggled for words. "Miss Joubert, is this really necess-"
The words stopped in his throat when he saw the riding crop.