By the time I arrived back at the mansion, the clock had already ticked past nine.
The air was cool, the scent of damp earth lingering after what must've been a recent drizzle.
My body ached from the long day, but the sight that greeted me at the entrance made me pause.
Iris.
Hopping.
Like a damn squirrel on a sugar high.
I exhaled through my nose, rubbing a hand over my face.
"What the hell," I muttered, watching her erratic movements with a mix of irritation and reluctant curiosity.
Her small frame bounced awkwardly across the yard, her hoodie flapping as she spun in circles, feet kicking up bits of dirt.
Then, just as suddenly as she started, she froze mid-hop— like she'd been caught in a crime.
Suspicion prickled down my spine.
She darted toward the mansion, her head swiveling left and right in a terrible attempt at looking inconspicuous.
If she thought she was being sneaky, she was even more of an idiot than I thought.
Unluckily for her, the six-foot-three shadow she was so desperately trying to avoid was standing right at the entrance.
Her eyes landed on me.
She froze.
I didn't move either.
Silence stretched between us, heavy and expectant.
Finally, I sighed. "Come here, piccola ragazza," I called, my voice even.
Iris hesitated, then trudged forward, her head hanging low like a guilty child caught red-handed.
It was then that I noticed— her body looked... puffed up.
No, not just puffed up. Bloated.
Like she'd swallowed a whole watermelon and was hoping I wouldn't notice.
I narrowed my eyes. "What are you hiding?"
"Nothing. Everything is cool and good," she blurted out with forced enthusiasm, her voice unnaturally high-pitched.
Then she smiled.
A nervous, lopsided little thing that made my stomach twist.
Why did she have to look so goddamn adorable?
Her hoodie was caked in mud, patches of dirt streaked her flushed cheeks, and her braid had unraveled slightly, stray hairs poking out at odd angles.
She looked like a tiny imp who'd been rolling in a swamp and was desperately trying to pretend otherwise.
I clenched my jaw, forcing myself out of whatever spell she had unknowingly cast on me.
"Go freshen up," I ordered, voice rougher than necessary. "You're filthy."
Her shoulders sagged in relief, and she nodded so earnestly it was almost comical. Then she bolted past me toward the mansion.
I watched her disappear inside.
Something was off.
She was hiding something.
As I ascended the stairs, Aiden stepped into my path, arms crossed, his gaze sharp with suspicion.
"Why is Iris heading into your room?"
I didn't falter, but my grip on the stair railing tightened. I hadn't told anyone she was staying in my room.
Not that it was their business.
"I told her to take my belongings," I said smoothly, keeping my expression neutral.
Aiden didn't look convinced. His brows furrowed slightly as he studied me.
"Really?" A slow smirk curled at the edge of his lips. "You know, for someone who supposedly hates the idea of emotional attachments, you're doing a pretty lousy job of hiding it."
A muscle in my jaw ticked. This bastard.
I leveled him with a glare that was half irritation, half begrudging amusement. "Sometimes, Aiden, you're a real pain in the ass."
He chuckled as I brushed past him, clearly enjoying the way he managed to get under my skin.
But whatever mild annoyance Aiden stirred in me was nothing compared to what I felt when I opened my bedroom door.
Mud.
Everywhere.
Splattered across the floor. Smeared along the rug. Trailing up the goddamn wall.
It looked like a herd of filthy animals had paraded through.
"Iris!" My voice cracked through the room, sharp and authoritative. "Get your ass here, right now!"
Silence.
Then—
A splash.
A muffled squeal.
I turned toward the bathroom, my patience thinning by the second.
The door cracked open an inch, and then—just her head peeked out.
Wide, doe-like eyes. Wet strands of hair clinging to her flushed cheeks.
"Yes, sir?" Her voice trembled slightly.
I took a slow, deliberate step forward. "Iris," I repeated, my tone brokering no argument.
She exhaled a small sigh—resigned—and finally stepped out of the bathroom.
And for a moment, just a fraction of a second, my breath caught.
Her hair, still damp from the bath, was pinned haphazardly, with loose waves spilling over her shoulders in a way that felt both effortless and completely intoxicating.
The sheen of moisture made it gleam under the dim lighting, emphasizing the natural softness of it.
And then there was the dress.
An old thing. Simple. Nothing extravagant.
But fuck.
It clung.
Not obscenely, not even intentionally, but just enough.
Enough to tease the dip of her waist, the subtle rise and fall of her chest, the smooth slope of her collarbones.
She wasn't even trying. And that made it worse.
She fidgeted with the hem of the dress, avoiding my gaze, her face still tinged pink—either from the warmth of the bath or from the weight of my stare.
She was too much.
Too untouched. Too unaware. Too fucking tempting.
"Sorry, sir. I will clean the floor right now," she said quietly, her eyes locked onto the ground.
I waved my hand dismissively, my voice caught somewhere in my throat.
Focus on the mess, Ace. Not the way she looks.
But god—how the hell was I supposed to do that?
Because all the fucking time, I had this.
A girl who was both sinful and innocent in front of me.
All the fucking time.
Iris POV:
I am dead.
Panic surged through me as Ace's footsteps grew closer, the weight of each step echoing in my ears.
I barely managed to shove the bathroom door shut behind me, desperate to muffle any sounds that might give away the little creature hiding inside.
My breathing was unsteady, heart hammering so hard that it rattled my ribs.
God, please help me.
And then, like a shadow moving in the dark, he was there.
The air around me thickened, his presence swallowing up the space like something inescapable.
He leaned down, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his body, his breath teasing the edge of my skin.
And then—his fingers moved.
A slow, deliberate movement as he tucked a loose strand of my hair behind my ear, his knuckles grazing my cheek.
Oh.
A shiver ran down my spine, so sharp and sudden that I had to fight not to react.
But it didn't stop there.
He pressed a soft kiss to my neck, just beneath my ear.
A gasp slipped from my lips before I could swallow it.
My fingers curled into his shoulder on instinct, a desperate attempt to steady myself as my eyes fluttered shut.
He buried his face into the crook of my neck, exhaling slowly.
It was almost... tender.
But then—his lips moved.
Not just a kiss. A graze. A nibble.
A cruel tease of warmth and sensation that sent something searing through my body.
A breathless sound escaped me before I could stop it.
Oh my~ It felt good. Too good.
Too dangerous.
I stiffened, but my body betrayed me, my pulse betraying me, the heat pooling in my stomach betraying me.
Then, suddenly—
A growl rumbled from his chest.
The sound was raw, guttural— frustrated.
I barely had time to process it before his hands moved with terrifying precision.
He snatched my wrists, pinning them beside my head against the door in one swift movement.
My breath hitched.
His grip wasn't painful, but it was unrelenting.
My chest rose and fell rapidly as realization crashed into me.
I was trapped.
Pinned beneath him and the door. Completely at his mercy.
His gaze locked onto mine, pupils blown wide, his expression unreadable.
An unsettling mix of hunger and restraint warred in his eyes.
"I should definitely stop."
His voice was low, rough—like he didn't believe the words even as he said them.
"Yeah... we should," I mumbled, but my voice barely carried, barely sounded convincing.
His nose brushed against mine, featherlight.
Our breaths mingled.
His hands remained firm on my wrists, his grip like iron shackles, his presence swallowing me whole.
I could feel his hesitation, the war raging inside him.
He was holding himself back— barely.
"You look...different, Mini," he murmured, his tone detached, emotionless.
His eyes burned.
I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry.
"Aum... okay," I whispered, struggling to keep my breathing steady.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
If I moved my lips even slightly, they would brush against his.
No.
No, no, no.
My first kiss will not be with some stranger.
He's not a stranger, Iris. You have known him for years.
But still!
I whimpered. A small, desperate sound— a plea.
And it worked.
His grip faltered—just for a second. A moment of hesitation.
"Ace!"
The sharp call of his name shattered the moment like breaking glass.
Ace jerked back so fast it left me breathless, his jaw tightening, his entire body vibrating with frustration. Thank god.
He turned sharply toward the doorway, his voice clipped and razor-sharp. "What do you want, Hudson?"
Hudson's response was lost to me, muffled by the pounding in my ears.
Ace's fists clenched at his sides. His head tilted slightly, as if barely containing a snarl.
And then, just before storming out— one last glance.
Furious. Intense.
What did I do?
The door slammed shut behind him, and the air finally rushed back into my lungs.
I stood there, trembling, trying to piece myself together.
Then— the baby rabbit.
Oh no.
I spun around and darted into the bathroom, my heart still hammering for an entirely different reason.
The little creature lay curled up on a pile of towels, its tiny body shivering.
I sank to my knees beside it, carefully wetting a cloth and beginning to clean the dried mud from its soft fur.
"You poor thing," I whispered, my hands shaking as I worked.
The rabbit flinched slightly at my touch but made no sound.
Its ears twitched, and I held my breath, watching for any sign of distress.
I cleaned it as best as I could, then wrapped it snugly in a warm towel, cradling it close.
It was so fragile, its chest rising and falling in weak, unsteady breaths.
Please be okay.
My thoughts were a mess, torn between the little creature in my arms and the storm that had just passed through my room in the form of Ace.
What was happening?
Why had Ace looked at me that way?
Why did his touch burn long after he was gone?
And why—why—did part of me not want him to stop?
I shook my head violently. No.
No, no, no.
I needed to focus. On the rabbit. On something that actually made sense.
I gathered my courage and stood up, gripping the small bundle against my chest.
There was only one person I could think of who might know what to do.
Aiden.
He wasn't scary like everyone else around here.
I practically sprinted down the hall, repeating Melinda's directions in my head. Left corner, last room.
I reached the door and hesitated for half a second before knocking.
My fingers curled nervously around the towel, my heart hammering against my ribs.
Then the door swung open.
And it wasn't Aiden.
It was Mr. Felix smith.
I internally groaned and died of a heart attack.
Felix, one of Ace's friends— the same group of men who had seen me throw up in the most humiliating way possible.
Why? Why was God testing me today?
"Hey, shortcake," he drawled, his signature smirk spreading across his face.
Kill me. Just kill me.
"Hello, sir. Is Aiden available?" I tried to sound professional, but it came out like I was being strangled mid-sentence.
Felix cocked his head, clearly entertained. "Aww, you don't need to be so formal with me, shortcake. But if you're looking for Aiden, he's inside."
He winked.
I want to die.
Felix then turned his head and yelled, "AIDEN!" so loudly that I nearly jumped out of my skin.
A few seconds later, Aiden appeared, looking as emotionless as ever.
"Hey," he greeted flatly.
I swallowed. "Ahem... I need your help, please."
His gaze flicked to the bundle in my arms. "Sure. What is it?"
I quickly unwrapped the towel, revealing the tiny rabbit inside.
"It's not moving," I whispered, my voice small with worry.
Aiden's expression changed—just a little.
He took the rabbit carefully, his touch gentle, his brow furrowed in concentration as he examined it.
A moment of silence. Then—
"Let's take it to Hudson," he said, already moving.
Oh.
Aiden loved rabbits— his girlfriend calls him 'bunny.' It was weirdly cute.
But Hudson? I didn't even know he liked animals.
Still, I followed them, struggling to match their pace.
Do they have freakishly long legs, or am I just a slow walker?
By the time I reached the room, they were already standing at the doorway, their voices low but thick with tension. Something was off.
My breath hitched as I slowed my steps, something in my gut warning me to turn back. But I didn't.
Ace's voice sliced through the air like a blade.
"Hudson, do you have something up here or not? I SAID SHE'S NOTHING BUT A DUMB GIRL. I am not going to like some kid who's horrible like her and she's useless."
The words landed with a force so brutal that for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
I shouldn't have heard that.
I wish I hadn't heard that.
But I did. Ouch.
The realization settled in my chest like ice, spreading through my veins, numbing everything in its wake.
Something inside me cracked, an old wound splitting open.
Felix cleared his throat, and suddenly, the weight of Ace's gaze was on me.
I couldn't meet his eyes.
I didn't want to see whatever was in them— contempt, indifference, or worse, regret.
I forced my gaze to the floor, focusing on the intricate patterns on the carpet, the way my shoes suddenly felt too tight, the burning heat creeping up my throat.
Come on, Iris. Don't be a fool.
He's not the same man you knew years ago.
Did you really think, even for a second, that a man like him would ever look at you differently?
You're nothing, Iris.
No one's ever even wanted you. No one's ever even noticed you.
Gosh, no one has ever even proposed to you.
You're ugly and dumb. Just face it.
The silence stretched, suffocating.
I willed myself to move, to do something, anything.
My fingers curled around the edges of my sleeves, gripping the fabric so tightly my knuckles ached. My nails dug into my palms, grounding me.
"Iris," Hudson's voice broke through the haze, yanking me back from the spiral.
"Yeah?" My voice barely made it past my lips.
It felt foreign, weak, like it belonged to someone else.
Hudson gestured toward the rabbit in Aiden's arms. "Where did you find this?"
"Uh... at the park," I stammered, my words hollow, distant.
I should leave.
I need to leave.
"I-I-I... forgot something in the room..." The excuse stumbled out, barely coherent, but it was enough.
Before anyone could say anything else, I turned and walked away.
No—ran.
My footsteps echoed against the polished floors, my heart hammering so violently I thought it might break through my ribs.
Author POV:
"FUCK! FUCK!" Ace's enraged roar echoed through the mansion, a violent crack of thunder that sent a ripple of unease through the air.
His hands tore through his already disheveled hair, his breaths ragged and uneven.
The broken vases and shattered glasses on the marble floor reflected the storm in his chest— chaotic, destructive, and utterly out of control.
In Hudson's room, the rest of the guys stood around, their postures relaxed but their eyes keen.
The weight of Ace's fury was thick in the air, but no one moved to stop him.
They had seen him like this before— this raw, unfiltered rage that consumed him from within— but tonight was different.
There was something else beneath the fury, something far more dangerous: regret.
Aiden sat apart from the others, his focus solely on the fragile creature in his hands.
The injured rabbit trembled under his gentle touch, oblivious to the storm raging just beyond the room.
Its small chest rose and fell in shallow, rapid breaths, mirroring the quiet distress of the girl who had brought it in.
"Are you out of your mind?" Liam finally spoke, his voice calm but edged with the weight of unspoken questions.
Ace didn't respond.
His fists clenched, his jaw locked, his entire body coiled tight like a predator ready to pounce.
But there was nothing left to destroy except himself.
He could still hear his own voice from earlier, the cruel words he had spit out in frustration.
The words replayed in his head, taunting him, suffocating him.
He had seen the way she had frozen when she heard him, how she had shut down completely.
And instead of calling out to her, instead of explaining, he had let her go.
Ace exhaled sharply, his hands trembling as he stormed out of the house.
The screech of his tires against the pavement was the only sound that followed, a violent departure that left behind nothing but unanswered questions and the wreckage of his own emotions.
Felix let out a low whistle, shaking his head as he surveyed the damage.
"Someone inform the maids to clean this shit up before he comes back and breaks more."
He turned to Aiden, who still held the rabbit carefully.
"I'll take care of it," Felix said, his voice softer than usual as he reached for the trembling creature.
Aiden hesitated before passing it over, nodding once.
Felix made his way towards Ace's bedroom, pushing the door open without knocking.
Iris sat on the floor, her back resting against the edge of the bed.
The room was dimly lit, shadows clinging to her form, but there was no mistaking the distant look in her eyes.
Her fingers absently toyed with a loose thread on the hem of her dress, her mind clearly miles away.
She was frowning to herself, brows drawn together as if trying to piece together something she couldn't quite grasp.
She had heard everything. She had felt everything.
And yet, she hadn't broken down, hadn't cried.
Instead, she sat in silence, lost in a sadness that was quieter but no less painful.
When she noticed Felix standing there, she offered him a small, forced smile.
It was a weak attempt at normalcy, but it didn't reach her eyes.
"Iris," Felix's voice broke through the suffocating silence.
His tone was softer than usual, missing its usual teasing edge.
"Hello," she mumbled under her breath, her voice barely audible.
He sank down beside her, his gaze searching her face. "Don't mind his words."
Felix let out a breath and ran a hand through his tousled hair.
"He's just angry and... well, he just spits nonsense. You know that, right?" His fingers reached out, brushing against the rabbit's fur in a slow, careful stroke. "He doesn't mean half the shit he says when he's like that."
Iris gave a soft hum, but she didn't lift her gaze.
Felix could see the weight of something heavy pressing down on her— something she wasn't ready to share.
His easygoing nature made him good at reading people, and right now, he could see that she was retreating inward, closing herself off.
"Let's go to the vet," he suggested suddenly, his voice lighter, as if trying to shake the tension.
She shook her head, her sadness evident. Can you take it? Please?" Her voice was small, almost fragile, and that alone made Felix hesitate.
But he wasn't about to let her sit here alone, drowning in thoughts that would only hurt her more.
"Come on, Iris," he coaxed, his voice still gentle, but firmer now. "It's your little rescue. You should come."
She blinked up at him then, her eyes glassy with unspoken emotions.
He half-expected her to refuse again, but after a beat, she reached out and carefully took the rabbit from his hands.
She cradled it against her chest, her touch so delicate it was as if she feared breaking it.
"Thank you for helping me," she murmured.
Felix hesitated.
He wasn't usually one for sentiment, but there was something about her that made him want to say more—do more.
Ace had fucked up, and knowing that bastard, he probably wouldn't even admit it.
Felix had seen him lash out before, but tonight had been different.
There had been something desperate in Ace's anger, something raw.
And now Iris was paying the price for it.
Felix forced a smile, a hint of his usual charm slipping back into place.
"Wait here," he said as he pushed himself up. "Let me grab the car keys."
When he returned moments later, he found her still sitting in the same spot, her expression lost in thought.
But at the sound of his approach, she glanced up, and he flashed a reassuring grin. "Alright, let's get moving. I'll drive."
"You don't have to come," she said, her voice quieter now. "I appreciate it but I can manage."
Felix scoffed. "Yeah, well, I want to. So, let's go. I'm not letting you hitchhike your way to a vet at this hour."
She let out a small breath, something between a sigh and a reluctant defeat.
Then, with a slight nod, she pushed herself up.
The mansion was eerily quiet as they made their way to the car, the heavy air of earlier still lingering like a ghost in the corridors.
The drive was filled with Felix's occasional light-hearted comments, aimed at distracting her from the turmoil of the night.
But Iris barely responded.
The weight of Ace's words clung to her like an invisible chain, tightening with every mile.
Felix knew she wasn't okay.
And if he knew Ace at all, that bastard wasn't okay either.
"Fine, $100 bet," Leo declared, barely able to contain his excitement. "If they kiss or even just touch shoulders, you owe me."
"And if they don't?" Alex asked, raising an eyebrow, arms crossed in skepticism.
"You'll be stuck doing my file work for a whole week," Leo shot back, his grin practically dripping with mischief.
Alex scoffed. "You're a partner at the firm, not the boss."
"So what? A bet's a bet," Leo shrugged, unfazed.
"Fine," Aiden said, jumping into the fray. "I mean, it's THE FELIX. The guy could probably charm a cactus into blooming."
Liam, who had been fidgeting impatiently, suddenly blurted out, "I hate her. Can't she just go away?"
His irritation was palpable, his disdain for Athena's presence simmering just beneath the surface.
Athena, lounging beside Ace, was growing increasingly unbearable to the group.
None of them had ever truly liked her.
She was one of those fleeting, meaningless distractions—one of Ace's indulgences.
They tolerated her for his sake, but even that patience was wearing thin.
And then, amidst the laughter, the jabs, the careless wagering—Ace spoke.
"Ten thousand dollars."
The room fell silent. The weight of his voice cut through the air like a blade, cold and unwavering.
Everyone turned to stare. Ace never participated in this kind of bullshit. He was always the silent observer, the man who saw through games, not one to engage in them.
"Can you be more... specific?" Alex asked cautiously, measuring the intent behind those words.
Ace swirled the wine in his glass before taking a slow, deliberate sip, his expression unreadable. "On Iris."
The name landed like a match striking dry tinder.
Aiden let out a low whistle. "Damn."
Leo was the first to recover. "Wait—you're betting on her? Like, what? That she won't do anything?"
Ace set his glass down with a muted clink, exuding an air of dangerous calm. "After you all lose, you'll be leaving from here."
Hudson, who had been watching the scene unfold with growing amusement, raised a hand in protest. "Excuse me! They're betting, not me."
"And... you didn't win," Hudson added after a pause, his brows knitting together.
"Yet," Ace murmured, a smug, knowing smirk playing on his lips.
Alex exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "You're going to lose, my friend. Because we're talking about Felix here. Felix could sweet-talk a door into opening for him."
Ace's grip on his glass tightened, his knuckles turning white for a brief moment before he forced himself to release the tension.
Felix.
His jaw clenched at the thought of that bastard alone with her, the effortless way he charmed people, the easy smiles, the casual touches.
Ace hated it— hated the idea that Iris, with her wide-eyed innocence, might fall for it. Might respond to it
"They're back," Hudson announced, his voice breaking through Ace's darkening thoughts.
All eyes snapped toward the entrance.
For a moment, time seemed to stretch unbearably thin.
Ace's fingers drummed against the table, the only sign of the impatience brewing inside him.
He didn't want to care. He told himself he didn't.
But the mere thought of Iris walking through that door with Felix had his blood running hot.
"So now, the bet is renewed," Hudson declared, pouring himself another drink with a flourish. "Leo, Alex, Aiden vs. Ace."
"You're going to lose this bet," Athena said dryly, watching Ace with an amused smirk.
But Ace wasn't looking at her. He wasn't even listening.
His gaze was fixed on the entrance, his expression like ice—dangerously still, dangerously sharp.
And beneath it all, a storm churned.
"SHIT! AIDEN!"
Hudson's laughter shattered the heavy silence, loud and unrestrained.
He slapped the table, nearly knocking over his drink as he pointed toward the entrance.
Felix and Iris had walked in.
And there was space between them.
Not just space—a canyon. A deliberate, intentional gap so wide it might as well have been a physical wall.
"What the fuck?!" Leo and Alex exploded in unison, their eyes darting between Felix and Iris as if trying to make sense of what they were seeing.
Felix— their secret weapon, the one person they were sure could at least get a little reaction— had failed them spectacularly.
Aiden groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "You've got to be kidding me."
Frustration rippled through the group like a shockwave.
They had expected tension. They had expected something—anything.
A lingering glance, a brush of fingers, a hand around Iris' shoulder.
But this?
This was a fucking disaster.
"Hey guys," he greeted with a smirk, tossing his car keys onto the table like he hadn't just cost them their precious bet.
Aiden muttered a curse under his breath, his expression darkening. "Stronzo, scommettiamo su di te e ora perdiamo definitivamente (You fucker, we bet on you and now we've definitely lost)."
Felix raised an eyebrow. "Um, guys," he said, clearly unimpressed with their reactions. "Iris will be joining us tonight."
Silence.
A sharp, unwelcome silence that slithered through the room, curling around Ace like smoke.
Ace POV:
Why the fuck is she joining us?
My grip tightened around the cigarette between my fingers.
The ember at the tip burned low, glowing in the dim light, a barely contained fire—much like the one simmering inside me.
Iris, oblivious to the weight of my stare, slumped into the chair beside Alex.
Her posture was loose, careless—her exhaustion bleeding into every movement.
She looked drained.
A heavy sigh escaped her lips, her lashes fluttering shut as another yawn overtook her, her head nearly lolling onto her shoulder.
A muscle in my jaw twitched.
She shouldn't be here. She was exhausted, vulnerable.
The thought of her sitting there, surrounded by the others, unguarded, unsettled me in a way I couldn't fucking explain.
And then—Athena.
Her lips grazed my neck again.
That cloying, unwanted touch.
Her fingers skimmed the fabric of my sleeve, nails scraping lightly as if she had any real claim to me.
She never fucking stopped.
A leech. A parasite.
A woman who didn't understand the difference between possessing and belonging.
I was already irritated, but the contrast—the suffocating presence of Athena versus the quiet pull of the girl sitting across from me—sent a sharp spike of frustration through my veins.
"Athena," I snapped, my voice sharp, controlled.
She stilled at my tone, exhaling in quiet frustration but ultimately leaning back, sulking like a child denied their favorite toy.
Good.
My focus, however, had never been on her.
It was locked onto Iris, onto the way she kept rubbing her eyes, trying to fight off the sleep that was already winning.
She was barely holding herself together.
The cigarette burned too close to my fingers now.
I crushed it into the ashtray, the embers dying with a sharp hiss.
"Let's go," I said, rising to my feet.
The air around us shifted. My friends stilled.
The weight of my words landed heavily, making them pause mid-drink, mid-conversation.
Iris blinked up at me, confusion flickering across her face.
She hesitated. Then, slowly, she shook her head, as if she hadn't fully processed what I was saying.
A thick silence stretched between us.
I stared her down, unwavering.
"You're sleepy. Let's go," I repeated, my voice firmer this time.
Still, she didn't move.
I could hear the others whispering now. Aiden's hushed voice, Leo murmuring something under his breath.
Then—
"I am also sleepy. Can you carry me too?" Aiden's voice, laced with teasing amusement, broke the tension.
He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, smirking in a way that should have been harmless.
But I wasn't in the mood.
I ignored him. My attention was solely on her.
And when she still didn't move, I made the decision for her.
I bent down and lifted her with ease, her body tensing in surprise.
A soft, startled whine slipped past her lips, her fingers clutching at the back of my neck in instinctive fear, holding on as if she thought I'd drop her.
I glanced down at her.
Her lips parted slightly, but no words came.
Just a quiet acceptance, a stillness that settled over her as if she had resigned herself to the moment.
She fit against me too easily.
The room had gone quiet again, but this time, the silence was different.
It wasn't filled with teasing, laughter.
It was heavy. Thick.
I felt every fucking set of eyes on me, on us.
Even Athena had gone rigid, her nails pressing into the armrest of her chair.
Hudson's stare burned into me the hardest.
I didn't know why he cared so much.
I didn't know why he kept making this his business.
But I didn't care.
Without another glance back, I walked away, taking her with me.
I laid her down on the bed.
She barely stirred, exhaustion weighing her limbs down like lead. The usual fight—the stubborn defiance in her eyes, the hesitation in her touch—was absent.
She simply yielded.
It should have satisfied me.
It didn't.
Instead, an unfamiliar tightness coiled in my chest as I watched her settle against the sheets, her small frame sinking into the plush mattress.
She looked too fragile. Too breakable.
I sighed heavily, stripping off my shirt and discarding it onto the chair.
The fabric whispered as it hit the leather, but my focus remained on her.
She lay still, eyes fixed on the ceiling, her lips parted as if she wanted to say something but lacked the energy.
Then, in a quiet, almost defeated voice, she murmured—
"I want to go home."
The words were soft, barely above a whisper. But they cut through me like a blade.
Home.
I clenched my jaw. A muscle twitched near my temple.
I reached out, threading my fingers into her hair, stroking gently, the way one would soothe something fragile.
It felt unnatural.
I wasn't accustomed to giving comfort—I took. I conquered.
But with her, I found myself holding back, as if afraid that pressing too hard would shatter something beyond repair.
Her breath hitched, but she didn't move away.
"Please..." Her voice broke.
A single tear slipped from the corner of her eye, vanishing into the tangle of her dark hair.
I hovered above her, close enough to feel the warmth of her breath against my skin.
Close enough to see her—the sadness pooling in her gaze, the exhaustion weighing down her delicate features.
Fuck.
"Sleep, Mini." My voice was low, controlled, but beneath it was a quiet possessiveness I couldn't quite suppress. "You're not going anywhere."
She swallowed, a flicker of hesitation in her expression.
"I... I don't even know you." Her voice was weak, as if she were speaking more to herself than to me. "I don't have a relationship with you, so why am I even staying here?"
I didn't answer immediately.
Because I didn't fucking know.
I should have let her go.
I should have been indifferent, apathetic—just as I had been with every other woman before her.
But she wasn't every other woman.
"You're my friend," I lied.
It tasted bitter.
She scoffed, her lips curling slightly, her exhaustion making her unfiltered. "Friends don't insult people behind their backs and hurt them."
That struck deep. Deeper than I wanted to admit. Ouch.
My fingers curled around the sheets, tightening involuntarily.
I wanted to tell her she was wrong— that my words weren't real, that every insult, every cold remark, was a lie.
A shield.
A way to keep her at arm's length, where she couldn't reach inside me and rip out the pieces I had carefully buried.
But the truth?
The truth was much uglier.
Denial was easier than facing the raw honesty of my emotions.
I wanted to hurt her.
Not in the way she thought—not in the petty, shallow manner of gossip or cruelty.
I wanted to ruin her in a way that only I could.
I wanted to watch her break and piece her back together with my hands.
I wanted to mark her, claim her, pull her into my world until she belonged to me in ways she wouldn't even understand.
And that realization— the sheer depth of my desire— made my stomach tighten with something dangerously close to fear.
But I couldn't show that.
Instead, I murmured, "It's not true, Mini. Everything I say there is a lie."
The words came out steady, smooth. But inside, I was unraveling.
She studied me for a long moment, her brown eyes searching for something in mine.
She wouldn't find it.
I had spent years perfecting the art of masking myself, of keeping my thoughts locked away where no one could reach them.
Her lips trembled, but she didn't press further. Instead, she looked away, exhaling shakily.
Something in my chest twisted at that.
Before I could stop myself, I leaned in.
I pressed my lips to her eyelid. Soft. Lingering. An admission I wasn't ready to put into words.
I trailed lower, brushing a kiss against her cheek. Gentle. Reverent.
Then I lay down beside her, half of my body covering hers— possessive. Unyielding.
She was different.
Not in the way most retard men wanted their women to be different—seductive, alluring, mysterious.
She was simple, unpolished, untouched by the filth of the world.
Untainted.
And yet, that same purity unsettled me, because it made me want to corrupt it.
She was a walking contradiction—too naive, yet too sharp. Foolish, yet somehow wise in ways that left me unbalanced.
Despite everything I had given her—the dresses she refused to wear, the comfortable bed she avoided in favor of the couch or even the floor—she remained steadfast in her simplicity.
She didn't need luxury. Didn't crave indulgence.
And that, more than anything, unnerved me.
Women were predictable creatures.
They wanted things—money, love, power, security, status.
I knew how to buy them, how to make them desperate for my attention.
But she didn't want anything from me.
Not my wealth. Not my protection. Not even me.
She wasn't the kind of girl who turned heads on first glance.
Simple, both inside and out.
A woman most men would overlook.
But I saw her.
I saw her in a way no one else ever would.
I had spent months watching her, unraveling her, learning her.
And if I hadn't—if fate hadn't twisted our paths together—I might have never discovered the treasure she truly was.
I was lucky, for the first time in my life.
And yet, every time I tried to get closer, she resisted.
Not like the others— women who played coy, who teased and lured only to keep me on a leash.
No, she recoiled as if every touch was an intrusion, as if I was something to be feared.
I had told myself it was an act. A game.
But when she spoke about wanting to save herself, I heard the sincerity in her voice.
She meant it.
She was untouched, unclaimed. A rare thing in a world filled with corruption.
And I wanted to ruin her.
Not out of cruelty. Not even out of lust.
But because the thought of someone else—anyone else—laying claim to her made my blood run cold.
In. Out. In. Out.
Her breathing was soft, even—utterly serene.
The slow, steady rise and fall of her chest was a hypnotic rhythm, lulling me into something dangerous. Something possessive.
She slept without a care in the world, while I lay awake, unable to escape her hold on me.
She had taken my sleep without a single word, stolen my peace without even trying.
And I let her.
4 AM.
The dim glow of the bedside lamp cast long shadows against the walls, stretching and twisting like the thoughts circling inside my mind.
I had spent the past hour doing nothing but watching her.
My Mini bear. My delicate, defiant little thing.
She was nestled in my arm, a weight that should have been insignificant, but she felt heavy—a weight I couldn't ignore, a presence that consumed me.
My hand, trapped beneath her, had long since gone numb. I should move. Should pull away.
I didn't.
Because if I moved, if I shifted just an inch,I would lose this.
Lose the warmth of her body against mine. Lose the way she unknowingly fit against me, like she was meant to be there.
Her hair, once neat, was now a tangled mess against the pillow, strands sticking to the soft skin of her neck.
Her dress had slipped—fallen apart in ways that tested my control.
A bra strap dangled off her shoulder.
Her collarbone peeked through the loose fabric. Fuck.
My breathing was slow. Measured. I had to stay in control.
But I couldn't stop myself.
Carefully, deliberately, I pulled the blanket away, unveiling her inch by inch, exposing her to my gaze.
She didn't stir.
Her legs slightly bent to the side.
Her dress had ridden up, revealing her thighs, which stirred an unfamiliar urge within me—an urge to keep her here, in this room, every single day, wrapped up in this private world we shared.
I traced a slow path with my fingers, starting at her knee—bare, soft, inviting.
Up her thigh.
A muscle twitched beneath my touch, but she remained unaware. Completely at my mercy.
My fingers continued their ascent, gliding over her hip bone, lingering at the curve just below her breasts.
She was so soft. So fucking warm.
I could feel the way her ribs expanded with each breath, slow and steady.
Could feel the gentle rise of her chest, the delicate way her body responded to my touch even in sleep.
I wanted to push further.
I wanted to own her.
The temptation was a living thing, clawing at me, whispering in my ear, urging me to take what was already mine.
But instead, I dragged my fingers higher, skimming along her collarbone, tracing the slender curve of her throat.
I paused just above her heart, feeling the soft, steady thrum beneath my fingertips.
Her heartbeat.
Calm. Unaware.
She had no idea how close she was to ruin.
With a sharp inhale, I forced myself to pull away.
I smiled softly, covering us both with the blanket once more.
She shifted in her sleep, mumbling something incoherent as she turned onto her side, her back now flush against me.
Instinct took over.
I wrapped my arm around her waist, pulling her closer, my body molding against hers in a way that felt right.
She was small. Delicate. Fitting perfectly against me like a snug, comforting bear.
Her breasts rested gently against the mattress, and I placed my hand under them, providing a supportive embrace. It was perfect.
6:30 AM.
I woke up to heat.
Softness. Pressure.
My breath caught in my throat as I became acutely aware of my hand.
It was nestled between her thighs.
Directly cupping her clothed pussy. Fuck.
She was still curled against me, completely unaware of how perfectly she fit into my grasp, how her body had wrapped around me in sleep, locking me into this sinfully perfect position.
I exhaled sharply.
Slowly, I flexed my fingers. Not a full movement—just enough to feel. To gauge.
She was warm.
So warm that for a split second, I let myself imagine how she would feel without any barriers between us.
A deep, quiet laugh rumbled in my chest.
If she woke up now—if she opened those big, innocent eyes and saw the position we were in—what would she do?
Would she pull away?
Would she understand what she was doing to me?
I swallowed hard, my grip tightening before I forced myself to release her.
Slow. Careful. Controlled.
I rolled onto my back, staring up at the ceiling, breathing through the unbearable weight pressing against my ribs.
If I stayed here any longer, if I let myself indulge, I wouldn't be able to stop.
And I would not do that.
Not like this.
Not to her.
I climbed out of bed, my body protesting the loss of warmth as I stalked toward the bathroom.
The cold water hit my face like a slap, shocking me back into reality.
But the memory of her lingered.
The softness of her skin.
The way her body had fit so perfectly against mine.
The innocence of it all.
I gripped the edge of the sink, muscles flexing beneath the strain of my control.
She was too precious for the things I wanted to do to her.
Too pure for the raw, unfiltered desire clawing inside me.
I had never had to hold back before.
Never had to restrain myself like this.
And yet, with her, I was walking a razor's edge, balancing between the need to protect her and the need to ruin her completely.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
". . . Really?"
Alex's voice cut through the air, thick with disbelief and something else— disgust.
I barely glanced at him, my fingers tapping against the desk, my patience wearing thin.
"You can't just force her to live with you... suddenly," he continued, arms crossed, his glare sharp and unrelenting.
Irritating.
I exhaled slowly, tilting my head to the side.
"It's not like anyone out there is waiting for her," I replied, my tone razor-sharp. "No one's searching. No one's calling her name."
That should have been the end of it.
But Alex stood up furiously, his chair scraping against the floor as he began pacing.
Back and forth. Back and forth. Like a caged animal.
"You can't just use her innocence for your own benefit," he snapped. "It's not right."
I sighed, running a hand down my face. "I told you the whole damn story. I'm not using her."
My gaze flickered toward the window, toward the early morning light bleeding through the curtains.
"I'm protecting her."
Liar.
The thought whispered in my head, but I pushed it away.
When I bought her from that club, she was just a deal.
Nothing more.
A contract, a business exchange, another meaningless transaction.
And then I let her go.
But now?
Now, I want her.
Not as a deal. Not as an obligation.
As mine.
So I would do whatever it took.
Even if it meant being selfish.
Even if it meant keeping her in a world she didn't belong to.
Even if it meant giving her exactly what she craved— death.
Alex's voice cut through the silence again. "You know, for a guy who claims he doesn't want attachments, you're acting pretty fucking attached."
I turned my head slightly, eyeing him with thinly veiled irritation. "Shut up, Alex."
He let out a harsh breath, shaking his head. "Ace, you know the ethics, right?"
My fingers clenched against the desk. "Yes. So what?"
"You can't drag an innocent into this shit." His voice was edged with warning now, his glare piercing. "It will destroy her."
Destroy her.
As if she wasn't already broken.
As if I hadn't seen the emptiness in her eyes that first night.
As if the world hadn't already done its worst to her, leaving her with nothing but the kind of silence that suffocates a person from the inside out.
Alex didn't understand.
She wasn't a girl with dreams of love and freedom.
She was nothing when I found her.
A ghost walking through life, untouched, unseen.
A girl who didn't belong anywhere.
But with me?
She belonged.
And she would belong, whether she realized it or not.
When I left for work, Iris was still sleeping.
Curled up, small and perfect, lost in dreams I'd never be a part of.
I let her rest, knowing how tired she had been lately.
I was planning to throw away my alarm and her phone which would punctually ring at four in the morning, everyday.
Maybe then she'd sleep in longer, wake up refreshed, stretch her delicate limbs with that quiet little yawn she always did— one that exposed the gentle curve of her neck, the line of her collarbone peeking from under her shirt.
Maybe then, I'd finally see her smile at me.
She never had.
But I had seen it from a distance.
Soft. Sweet. Fucking devastating.
I gritted my teeth. I didn't know why I felt this way, why the thought of anyone else seeing her like that made me want to put a bullet through their skull.
But I did.
I wanted her.
And I would make sure I was her first and last in every single thing from now on.
When I first took her from that club, I hadn't even looked at her twice.
She was just a deal.
Nothing more.
But now?
Now I found myself forcing my eyes away from her because every glance made me want her more.
Her brown eyes were a mesmerizing pool of honey in the morning, turning into an eclipse by afternoon and a burning sunset at night.
They were made to be stared into, to be worshipped, to be ruined.
They were the definition of perfection, framed by her long, perfect eyelashes.
Her lips—not too plump, not too thin—were the perfect size to kiss, to bite, to leave swollen with the evidence of me.
Her collarbones, her throat, that perfect olive-colored neck— irresistible.
She wasn't too thin, wasn't too thick. Just soft enough.
Just enough to leave marks, to take my grip, to be molded against me.
I could see it already—how perfectly she'd fit beneath me. How easily she'd bend to my touch.
And she was still growing up.
Still changing.
Still becoming mine.
There was a small mole beside her belly button.
Another below her right eye. One on her left cheek. Another beside her nose.
I often wondered where else they were.
Where else she hid pieces of herself.
And if I would be the one to find them all.
Her simplicity was her charm.
She didn't need to try.
She didn't need to be like the others, didn't need to dress herself up in jewels and expensive perfume to turn heads.
She was already a masterpiece.
A rare, untouched thing in a world full of filth.
And I would be damned if anyone else had her.
If anyone else even thought of having her.
She was mine.
She didn't know it yet.
But she would.
Alex couldn't see what I saw. He couldn't feel what I felt.
She wasn't just another girl.
She was everything.
And I would do whatever it took to keep her by my side.
Even if it meant bending the rules.
Even if it meant breaking them.
Even if it meant breaking her.
Author POV:
"It's disgusting."
Iris scrunched up her nose, eyeing the greenish-brown sludge in Hudson's glass with open disdain.
"It's healthy," he countered, rolling his eyes as he took another sip. "A detox smoothie is supposed to look like it came from a swamp. Adds to the charm."
She didn't look convinced.
If anything, her disgust deepened as she watched him drink the thick, murky mixture.
They were the only two in the mansion's vast kitchen, both taking a break from their respective tasks.
Hudson had been preparing food—something that, despite his protests, most of them dreaded—while Iris had been assisting him.
For once, the atmosphere was light, free of the usual suffocating weight that seemed to settle over her whenever she was inside these walls.
Hudson took another sip of his so-called 'health drink' and smacked his lips together, grimacing. "Tastes like I'm drinking a lawn. Maybe I should stick to coffee."
Iris made a face again, unable to hide her revulsion.
Hudson leaned against the counter, watching her with casual curiosity. "So, you're home early," he observed. "That's new."
She hesitated before answering.
"I quit the previous job. It was... not a good environment to work in." Her voice was quiet, her gaze dropping to the counter as if she expected judgment.
Hudson raised a brow but didn't press. Instead, he asked, "So, do you still work anywhere?"
"Yeah, at a restaurant."
Something about admitting it made her feel small.
Maybe because it sounded like she wasn't doing enough. Maybe because she hated answering questions about herself.
Hudson, however, didn't seem to judge her at all. Instead, he smirked. "Ah, restaurant work. I've always wondered what it's like to serve people who think they're food critics just because they have Instagram."
That earned a small, hesitant laugh from her.
Hudson didn't miss the way her shoulders eased just a little, her tension slipping ever so slightly.
"So, I heard you like to read books," he said casually, shifting the conversation.
Her nervousness returned instantly. "Yeah."
He tilted his head. "Do you have any books?"
"Yeah... only one," she admitted, almost embarrassed.
His lips twitched in amusement. "Oh."
Silence settled over them again, but it wasn't awkward.
It was... peaceful.
Hudson took another sip of his smoothie, gagged slightly, then shook his head. "Yeah, I'm done. This shit is going in the trash."
Iris just shook her head, watching as he dumped the rest of the drink into the sink.
The sun had barely dipped below the horizon when Ace stepped into the mansion, his coat slung over his shoulder, his mind already fixated on a single thought.
Iris.
He wasn't sure when this had become a habit— rushing home earlier than usual, drawn by the quiet, unassuming presence of the girl who had somehow infiltrated his space.
It wasn't rational. It wasn't planned.
But it was happening.
As he entered, the distant hum of conversation filled the air.
The guys were gathered in the living room, voices low but animated.
"Hey! Guess what?"
Leo's voice cut through the chatter, brimming with excitement.
Ace barely spared him a glance as he shrugged off his coat. "What?"
"The little girl made dinner for everyone. And be happy that you don't have to eat Hudson's food tonight," Leo announced with a smirk.
Hudson rolled his eyes and smacked Leo's head lightly. "My cooking is an acquired taste," he muttered. "At least I don't need a fire extinguisher in the kitchen."
Ace wasn't listening.
He had already started moving, his steps instinctively taking him toward his room.
The noise of their conversation faded into background static.
He only cared about one thing.
Finding her.
But when he pushed open his bedroom door— Empty.
She wasn't here.
His fingers twitched at his side, an involuntary reaction to the irritation curling in his gut.
Then—
Splash.
His head snapped toward the bathroom.
There was the distinct sound of water shifting, a soft gasp, then silence.
A few seconds later, more splashing, followed by what sounded like a low exhale.
Ace's senses sharpened instantly.
The sound of running water, the quiet panting beneath it.
Something inside him stilled.
Without hesitation, he pulled out his gun, the familiar weight grounding him.
He stepped forward, silent and controlled, his breath even.
The mansion was secured—no one got in without his knowing.
And yet, the unpredictability of the moment sent a dark thrill curling through his chest.
The doorknob was cool under his fingers as he slowly pushed the door open.
And what he saw— Was not at all what he expected.
A scene straight out of a surreal, fucking fever dream.
There she was.
His Mini bear.
Lounging in a massive tub, buried in a sea of white foam and soft steam, utterly oblivious to the fact that just seconds ago, he had been prepared to pull the trigger on an intruder.
Ace exhaled slowly, lowering his gun— But his grip on it didn't loosen.
The room was filled with steam, wrapping around her like a hazy veil, carrying the soft scent of jasmine.
The surface of the water was covered in thick, white foam, barely concealing the delicate slopes of her body.
Her bare shoulders peeked above the bubbles, her slender neck glistening with beads of water.
If she moved just a fraction, her chest would be framed perfectly by the foam, just enough to tempt.
But the thing that threw him off—
The two rubber ducks floating lazily beside her.
And the mug perched on the edge of the tub, dangerously close to tipping into the water.
Ace blinked.
The tension in his shoulders ebbed slightly, replaced by a different kind of tension entirely.
Iris, meanwhile, had yet to notice him.
She was humming something under her breath, her fingers lazily tracing patterns through the foam, utterly lost in her own little world.
His lips curled.
"I was expecting an intruder," he mused, leaning casually against the doorframe, gun still in hand. "But I guess a rubber duck invasion is a new one for me."
Ace didn't move.
Didn't even blink.
His gaze stayed locked onto her, sharp and possessive, devouring every inch of what little he could see.
The way the steam made her skin glow. The way her wet hair clung to her neck.
How fucking small she looked in that oversized tub.
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