"So you're telling me these are all for... Iris?" I asked, barely suppressing my disbelief as I took in the sheer amount of clothing spread across the room.
Dresses. Shoes. Accessories.
Delicate lace and silk draped over furniture like this was some kind of high-end boutique rather than Ace’s goddamn mansion.
Ace barely spared me a glance.
His expression was unreadable, his focus entirely on the garments in front of him.
Without a word, he continued sifting through the dresses, his movements precise, methodical— like this wasn’t a ridiculous waste of time but something that required his full attention.
I ran a hand through my hair, exhaling sharply. "You realize she’s just one person, right?"
Silence.
I waited for him to scoff, roll his eyes, tell me to shut the fuck up like usual.
Instead, he reached for another dress, brushing his fingers over the fabric before giving the maid a slight nod.
She immediately set it aside.
This was weird.
Not just because Ace Salvatore— the same man who once shot a guy in the kneecap for breathing too loud— was currently judging the quality of women’s clothing.
No, it was how he was doing it.
I watched as the maids displayed each dress with the same quiet precision Ace demanded from everyone under his command.
They waited—waited— for his approval like this was some military operation.
And Ace?
His attention to detail was obsessive.
The fabric, the cut, the colors— he was analyzing everything as if each piece of clothing was a calculated decision, as if the wrong choice would be unacceptable.
I frowned, crossing my arms. "Boss, this isn’t normal."
He ignored me.
I should’ve expected that.
I glanced at the list he had given me earlier, the absurd number of items scrawled in his distinct, sharp handwriting.
20 vintage dresses
5 different types of jeans
10 shirts, skirts, and tops
10 undergarment sets
5 fucking accessories (reason unknown)
Several other miscellaneous items
I hadn’t questioned it when he handed me the list.
Hell, I’d seen stranger demands from him.
But this— seeing him actually sorting through these things with an intensity that rivaled the way he strategized for war— made something in my gut twist.
I tried again. "Boss."
This time, he paused.
Not a glance. Not a word.
Just a brief flicker of hesitation before he picked up a dress, his jaw tightening slightly as he ran his thumb over the lace detail.
He was thinking.
And that?
That was the part that bothered me.
Ace didn’t just think— not like this.
He calculated. He plotted. He decided.
But this?
This was something else entirely.
Something personal.
And I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing.
"Do you think these will suit her?"
Ace's voice broke the silence, cool and composed, but something about it made my skin itch.
He was holding a delicate vintage dress, the fabric slipping through his fingers like something fragile— something that didn’t belong in the hands of a man like him.
I exhaled, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling creeping up my spine.
"Yeah, I guess so." Then, after a beat, I frowned. "But... what's the occasion?"
His gaze shifted to me.
Sharp. Unreadable. Intense.
"I wanted to spend my money," he said simply, "so I thought why not buy her some things?"
Bullshit.
This wasn’t some careless splurge.
Ace Salvatore did nothing without purpose.
This wasn’t about money.
This was about her.
I shifted uncomfortably, watching as Ace continued his meticulous selection.
The Ace I knew—the one I had followed, fought beside, and feared—was a man whose presence alone could silence a room.
A man who could break someone apart with a glance, who could decide whether you lived or died before you even knew you were in danger.
And yet here he was, obsessing over dresses.
A lesser man might have found it amusing. I didn’t.
I knew Ace too well.
He wasn’t just picking clothes.
He was claiming her.
Each dress, each piece of fabric— it was a statement.
A declaration that she belonged to him, that no one else would ever dress her the way he did, touch her the way he did, own her the way he did.
And maybe the most disturbing part?
I don’t even think he realized it.
Ace wasn’t the kind of man who loved.
That word, that concept— it wasn’t for men like him.
But possession?
Obsession?
That, he understood perfectly.
The room was quiet except for the faint rustle of fabric and the measured, deliberate way Ace continued sorting through the clothes.
Then, as if remembering I was still standing there, he handed me another list.
Another. Fucking. List.
I took it without a word, my fingers brushing against the thick paper.
It was handwritten, his sharp, deliberate strokes slicing through the page.
More items. More demands.
I stared at it for a moment before turning back to him.
Ace had already moved on, his focus locked back onto the clothing before him, as if I was no longer there.
As if nothing else in the world mattered.
As I walked out, list in hand, something in my gut told me that this was just the beginning.
Iris POV:
I was overwhelmed.
Happiness and confusion clashed within me, neither willing to give way to the other.
Ace said he would be my husband. But why? Why did he like me?
Nothing made sense.
The Ace I had known years ago wasn’t this man— this cold, unreadable, dangerous man who commanded entire rooms with just a look.
The Ace I had once known had been distant but familiar, like a shadow lingering at the edges of my life.
But this Ace?
This Ace was a storm.
And yet, his touch—it wasn’t something I could ignore.
Every time his fingers grazed my skin, it was like being set on fire and soothed in the same breath.
It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once, making me question everything I had been taught.
Mama always said only a husband should touch me.
If anyone else did, it was supposed to be a bad thing.
So why didn’t it feel bad?
Why did I…like it?
Why did my body react not with fear, but with something I couldn't name— something sinful, something that made my stomach tighten and my breath hitch?
Sorry mama.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to push the thoughts away.
Then there was Athena.
She had lashed out at me, her words cutting and sharp, dripping with hostility.
If Ace didn’t belong to her, then why had she looked at me like I had stolen something?
Liam had mentioned to Hudson that Athena was just a fling.
But what did that mean?
I had never been the kind of girl who understood these things.
I was raised on simple rules, clear lines.
Right and wrong. Black and white.
But Ace?
Ace was crimson and black.
I sighed, rubbing my temples, trying to focus on the present—on what actually mattered.
The events of yesterday still lingered in my mind like an ink stain I couldn’t wash out.
The bathroom. The way he looked at me.
God, I was confused.
I had tried to be cautious today, taking a long shower in the bathroom, not in the tub, alone this time.
I refused to repeat yesterday’s mistake.
Melinda had shown me how to use the bathtub, and for the first time in my life, I had experienced something so luxurious—hot water surrounding me, steam rising in the air.
It was supposed to be relaxing. But Ace’s presence had ruined that.
Is he an animal disguised in a human body?
I shook my head, trying to rid myself of the thoughts clawing at my mind.
No. I needed to focus.
I had a job interview today.
Well, not exactly an interview. More of a chance.
Brent had helped me secure an opportunity as a waitress at a reputable café— a place I had been trying to work at for almost a year.
Maybe, just maybe, God was finally showing me mercy.
I slipped into a dress that felt too delicate, too tight.
One wrong move, and it might tear.
But it was fitting for the occasion, and it would have to do.
I didn’t have much.
A small amount of money. A few coupons tucked away safely in my bag.
It would work. It had to.
With one final deep breath, I grabbed my things and stepped toward the door, trying to leave everything else behind.
Trying, and failing.
The moment I stepped into the living room, the lively chatter died.
The laughter, the easygoing banter— all of it vanished, replaced by a silence that wrapped around me like a noose.
Their faces, once animated, hardened into stone.
Even Aiden, who was usually kind, looked right through me as if I had become invisible.
I shifted on my feet, feeling like an intruder in my own space.
Still, I forced a small, awkward wave, paired with a smile that was more nervous than genuine.
No one reacted.
The tension was suffocating, pressing against my chest until a cold, detached voice sliced through the silence.
"Mini."
My stomach flipped.
Ace.
I lifted my gaze hesitantly, meeting his piercing stare.
His eyes were unreadable, but his presence alone felt like a leash tightening around my throat.
I swallowed hard.
He looked effortlessly handsome, as always.
But that wasn’t why I was drawn to him.
It was never about his face. I wish it was.
If it was, then I wouldn’t be thinking about him and move on.
It was his behavior that had drawn me in.
Behave, Iris.
Slowly, I stepped forward, stopping just in front of him.
He lifted his hand and patted his lap.
My breath hitched.
No.
Not here.
Not in front of everyone.
A slow burn of embarrassment crawled up my neck, heating my face.
Athena’s expression darkened, her lips curling with barely hidden irritation.
I hesitated for half a second— just enough time for Ace to lose patience.
His arm wrapped around my waist, firm, unyielding, pulling me onto his lap before I could resist.
A startled gasp caught in my throat.
My muscles locked, my entire body going stiff as the weight of a dozen silent stares bore down on me.
This was humiliating.
I shrank against him, trying to make myself small, wishing I could disappear into his chest and avoid the judgment radiating from the others.
Ace, however, was completely unbothered.
If anything, he seemed pleased— his lips quirking into a smug, knowing smile as he brushed a few stray strands of hair from my face.
Then, he leaned in.
His breath was warm against my cheek, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine.
"I told Melinda to take you somewhere," he murmured, his lips pressing soft, deliberate kisses along my cheek.
The sensation was overwhelming.
My ears burned. My fingers twitched against my dress.
"I—I have work," I stammered, my voice embarrassingly weak.
Ace hummed, as if considering it, before dismissing the idea completely.
"You can postpone it, can't you, Mini?"
His fingers traced light circles against my hand, his tone gentle, but laced with undeniable authority.
Reluctantly, I nodded. "O-Okay."
I want to die from embarrassment.
"Good girl," he said approvingly, and then pressed a tender kiss to my forehead.
He patted my hips, signaling me to get up. I stood quickly, relieved to be moving away from the spotlight.
Melinda was already standing by, waiting.
"Take care of her," Ace instructed, his voice firm and authoritative. It was less of a request and more of an order.
Melinda was already standing by, waiting.
Ace's voice was sharp as he addressed her. "Take care of her."
It wasn’t a request.
Melinda gave a respectful nod. "Yes, boss.
"But I...," I began to protest.
"No." I got a cold, final answer.
It was calm. Decisive. Absolute.
"Ace, you have to hear what she was going to say," Hudson interjected, his voice uncharacteristically firm.
But Ace didn’t budge.
I knew that look.
There was no changing his mind.
My heart pounded.
I turned quickly and ran from the room, my pulse hammering against my ribs, my own thoughts racing after me.
I didn’t stop running until I was far away from him, from them, from his suffocating presence.
I pressed a hand against my chest, trying to calm my breathing.
He is scary.
Do I still like him?
By the time we returned to the mansion, the sky was already shifting into deep shades of orange and purple.
3 PM.
The hours at the parlor had been strange— they did something to my legs and hands, but I couldn’t quite tell what.
Everything felt… too smooth. Too foreign.
I kept running my fingers along my skin, expecting to feel some kind of difference, but instead, it was just soft.
I sighed.
It wasn’t bad, just odd.
More than that, I was hungry.
The embarrassing growl of my stomach gave me away, and Melinda, ever observant, handed me something to eat.
I didn’t know what it was, but the moment I took a bite, my mouth was flooded with new flavors—fresh, salty, slightly sweet.
I chewed slowly, savoring it.
“What… is this?” I asked, my voice laced with curiosity.
Melinda smiled. “Sushi.”
Sushi.
The word felt weird on my tongue.
I rolled it around in my head, repeating it silently.
And then, as if on cue, another name popped up.
Susan.
Her fury from yesterday was still vivid in my mind.
Aiden had mentioned that she saw a picture of us together— that was why she had been so angry.
Weird women.
I pushed the thought aside and focused on my meal, finishing every bite.
With my stomach full, I felt a little more at ease.
After finishing my meal, I headed to the café to meet Brent.
I had missed my morning shift, and I owed him an apology.
Thankfully, the café had been kind enough to reschedule my performance review for tomorrow instead.
A relief.
Brent, however, was his usual stubborn self.
"I’m coming with you."
I tried to refuse, but arguing with Brent was pointless.
So, there we were, walking through various stores, my arms filled with small shopping bags.
I only bought two things— a shirt and a frock.
Cheap. Simple.
Not the best quality, but they would do.
I had avoided buying undergarments, though.
The idea of shopping for those while Brent was around felt… shameful.
He was a good friend, but some things were better handled alone.
By the time I finally made my way back to the mansion, the streets were quiet.
The cold night air bit at my skin, sending a small shiver down my spine.
I glanced at my phone.
9 PM.
Why did Ace have to build his house so far out?
It felt like forever getting back.
Now, standing outside the massive gates, I couldn't shake the uneasy feeling twisting in my stomach.
Something about tonight felt… off.
I hugged my bag closer, inhaling deeply to calm myself.
Maybe I was just overthinking.
Maybe I was just tired.
Maybe…
My thoughts drifted—unintentionally—to the bathroom.
To him.
To the way his fingers traced along my skin, leaving behind a sensation I couldn't understand.
My face burned.
What was that?
Was it normal for people to… experience things like that?
I didn’t know.
But I did know that I liked his tattoos. They were cool, intricate and unique.
I also liked his hugs.
They were warm and big.
He had said he would be my husband.
But only if we fell in love first.
And love?
Love takes time.
I clutched my bag tighter.
Was he being honest about his feelings for me?
Or was he just saying things to keep me around?
After all…
He had also said, "I'm not gonna like a dumb girl."
I let out a slow, shaky breath.
So… what does that make me?
"Iris."
The mansion doors swung open so suddenly that my heart nearly leapt out of my chest.
Gosh!
I whipped around, my breath catching as I found myself face-to-face with Ivan and Felix.
I clutched my bag tighter, my pulse still erratic from the scare.
I will die because of a heart attack one day.
"H-Hey," I stammered, forcing an awkward wave.
Ivan raised a brow, his usual smirk in place.
Felix, on the other hand, looked mildly amused.
"What are you doing here?" Felix asked, his tone light, but his gaze sharp.
"Nothing, just… taking a walk," I blurted out, instantly regretting the pathetic excuse.
Ivan chuckled. "Oh, same."
Felix grinned. "Yeah, I was just out here walking off that extra slice of cake I had. Gotta work off those calories before they catch up to me, you know?"
His comment made me smile despite my nerves.
"I don’t think that’s how it works, Felix."
"Oh, absolutely," His grin widened.
He winked. "Maybe we should start a new fitness trend: 'The Felix Method'—eat cake, walk it off, and still look fabulous."
The moment felt lighthearted, almost normal—
Until it wasn’t.
Felix’s smile faded.
His expression turned cold—so emotionless that it sent a sharp chill down my spine.
His gaze locked onto me, scrutinizing, as if searching for something.
I shifted uncomfortably.
I cleared my throat, turning to Ivan. "Uh—how was your day?"
I barely got the words out before Felix’s hand clamped around my forearm.
His grip was tight. Unyielding.
I stiffened. "F-Felix?"
His jaw clenched. "What did he do to you?"
I blinked. "What? Who?"
Before I could fully process his question, he reached out and yanked down my hoodie, exposing my neck.
What the hell!!
Felix’s expression darkened.
I instantly tried to wrench my arm free. "I still don’t understand what you’re talking about—"
Felix ignored me.
"Iris," his voice was tight, controlled rage boiling underneath, "did he force himself on you?"
What?
Was he asking about the bathroom situation?
"Tell me!" he demanded, his voice rising with intensity.
My mind went blank.
I had no idea how to answer that.
Nothing about last night had felt… bad.
Confusing? Yes.
Overwhelming? Absolutely.
But forced? No.
"Calm down, man."
Ivan’s voice cut through the tension as he grabbed Felix’s shoulder, trying to ground him.
But Felix was seething.
His entire body tensed as he hissed through his teeth, his voice low and venomous—
"CALMARSI? Non posso quando si approfitta di una ragazza che non sa nemmeno cosa sta facendo con lei e con il suo corpo!"
("CALM DOWN? I CAN'T when he's taking advantage of a girl who doesn't even know what he’s doing with her and her body!")
My breath hitched.
I flinched, heart hammering so hard it hurt.
Felix’s anger was like a storm, raw and unfiltered, his entire being radiating pure fury.
For a second, a terrifying thought crossed my mind—
Is he going to hit me?
"Iris, go inside," Ivan ordered, his tone firm.
I didn’t hesitate.
I turned on my heel and bolted.
My feet pounded against the hallway floors, my lungs burning as I ran, ran, ran—
Not stopping until I reached the bedroom.
When I entered the room, Ace was sprawled comfortably on the bed, scrolling through his phone.
Only his legs were draped over the edge of the mattress, and he was clad in nothing but his pants. Mama mia.
I managed a toothy smile and carefully closed the door behind me, the click of the latch echoing in the quiet room.
Ace’s head lifted at the sound, and in an instant, his dark eyes were on me—sharp, assessing, burning.
Ace POV:
The moment the door creaked open, my entire body tensed. I knew it was her.
I turned my head toward her, and the moment my eyes landed on her, it hit me like a goddamn freight train.
That fucking sweetness. The slight hesitation in her step. The way she gripped the tote bag, her fingers clenching and unclenching.
Like she wasn’t sure if she was welcome.
Like she thought I wouldn’t want her.
That pissed me off.
"Mini," I murmured, her name rolling off my tongue like a secret.
My voice was softer than I intended, filled with something that made my skin prickle.
Affection? Possession? Hunger? Fuck if I knew.
She smiled at me— small, hesitant.
She nodded slightly, her gaze dipping for a second, avoiding my stare.
She always did that.
Always acted like she was waiting for permission to exist in my space.
Like I’d ever deny her.
“You’re late,” I said, my voice even. Controlled.
Her grip on the bag tightened. “I had to buy me some things,” she murmured, rocking back and forth on her heels.
A nervous habit. She was trying to make herself smaller.
My eyes roamed over her, taking in every inch— the gentle curve of her shoulders, the way her dress hugged her body, the soft flush in her cheeks.
"You look pretty," I said, and that was a mistake.
She froze.
Her breath hitched.
And then, slowly, her face turned pink, her lips parting slightly as if the words had thrown her off balance.
She swallowed, hard, and that tiny fucking movement sent a spark straight through me.
"Thank you...," she murmured, barely above a whisper.
Her fingers fidgeted with the bag again, her eyes darting everywhere except at me.
Fuck. She was adorable.
I stood up before I could stop myself, my body moving on its own.
Drawn to her. Pulled like a goddamn magnet.
“What’s that?” I asked, nodding at the bag she clutched like it was a lifeline.
Her gaze flickered up to mine. “New dress.”
Her voice had something in it—excitement.
She was proud of it. It was rare to see.
She barely let herself want things, let alone enjoy them.
That bothered me more than it should have.
I leaned in, peering into the bag, my hand brushing against hers.
She shivered, and hell, I wanted to grab her.
"That's beautiful," I murmured.
"Yeah," she replied, a happy, genuine smile breaking across her face.
Fuck. That smile.
It was soft. Pure.
Without thinking, I reached out and cupped her face in my hands.
Her breath caught, her hands resting awkwardly on my waist, unsure, hesitant.
I could feel the heat of her palms even through my skin. like a baby bear cuddled in its den.
She didn’t pull away.
I leaned in, close enough that our breaths mingled, my nose brushing against hers, my lips inches from her ear.
"Let's shower," I whispered.
Her entire body froze.
A sharp inhale.
A flush of color bloomed across her cheeks, spreading down her neck, a reaction that had me gripping her tighter.
God. Fuck!.
She was so warm. So unbelievably soft.
Her fingers trembled against my skin, but she didn’t move away.
She was nervous. But she wanted me.
And that knowledge?
That fucking ruined me. Completely.
Her grip on my shoulders tightened, her nails lightly digging into my flesh.
My cock twitched in response, growing heavier with every second she pressed against me.
She didn’t even realize what she was doing to me.
We were in the same position as the previous night— her body nestled against mine, her heat pressing against my dick, making me grind my teeth.
But this time, the buttons of her shirt were undone.
The fabric hung open, revealing more of her, exposing her completely to me.
And I couldn’t stop staring.
Her perfect, untouched skin. The delicate curves.
Her nipples—fuck. Tight, pebbled, and begging to be touched.
My hand found the curve of her ass, guiding her movements, controlling her.
I didn’t just want to touch her. I needed it.
Her hands tangled in my hair, gripping tight, her eyes shut as soft, breathy sounds escaped her lips.
She liked it.
And yet—
Something was off.
Her body was tense, her muscles locked like she was holding herself back.
She was still afraid. Still unsure.
And that—that pissed me off.
Who taught her to be scared of this?
Of herself?
"Relax, Bambi. Breathe slowly."
My voice was low, soothing, meant to guide her.
My lips traced a slow, deliberate path along the delicate curve of her throat, feeling the way her pulse fluttered beneath my mouth.
She whined softly, and fuck, that sound— high and breathless—shot straight through me.
Her legs tightened around my waist, her small body pressing closer, seeking warmth, seeking me.
A deep, satisfied hum rumbled in my chest.
My hand rested on the small of her back, holding her firm, keeping her where she belonged.
I pressed a slow, lingering kiss to her cheek, feeling the way her breath hitched, the way her fingers curled against my bare shoulders.
When her eyes fluttered open, they were hazey. Uncertain. Wanting.
Fuck, she looked so innocent. So pliant.
A soft whimper escaped her when my lips found her neck again, kissing, sucking—marking.
I forced myself to stop before I lost every ounce of control I had left.
She wasn’t ready.
If I kept going, I wouldn’t stop.
And I couldn’t have that.
Not yet.
Instead, I kissed her face. Everywhere.
Slow, lazy kisses—her temple, her forehead, her nose.
Tiny, meaningless gestures to anyone else.
But to me?
They were everything.
She didn’t stop me.
She never did.
When my lips brushed against her upper chest, I left a faint mark there—a small, almost invisible sign of possession.
How fucking cute.
She exhaled deeply, resting her head on my shoulder, trusting me to hold her.
Her breathing slowed, little by little, until her body melted into mine.
Such a submissive girl.
“Dress up,” I murmured.
She nodded, stepping out of the tub, wrapping the towel around herself hastily, and—just like yesterday—bolting from the room like she had just survived a war.
I smirked, shaking my head. She wasn’t running from me. Not really.
She was running from herself.
From the things she didn’t know how to handle.
From the way her own body reacted to me, to my touch, to the way I made her feel without even trying.
I liked it.
I liked that I was the one forcing her to feel these things for the first time.
After calming myself, I walked out of the bathroom in nothing but my boxers.
She was already sitting on the bed, her long-sleeved top covering every inch of her, paired with those ridiculous dinosaur pajama pants.
I smirked.
Of course.
She looked up when I stepped toward her, eyes big and uncertain, her fingers twisting the towel.
I ignored the look she was giving me and took the towel from her hands.
She blinked up at me in confusion.
I didn’t explain.
I just started drying her hair, carefully threading the towel through her damp locks, removing the excess moisture.
She stiffened slightly before giving in, her hands retreating into her lap, fingers fumbling together like she didn’t know what to do with them.
I didn’t say a word.
For minutes, I just focused on her hair, the weight of it in my hands, the way it bounced slightly with each pass of the towel.
When I finally pulled the towel away, it was soft, fluffy, perfect.
A tiny yawn escaped her lips, her body sagging slightly.
I felt something tight coil in my chest.
This—this was peace.
Knowing she was safe. Knowing she was here, in my space, in my hands.
"Don't fall asleep just yet," I reminded her, my voice gentler than usual. "You haven't had dinner."
A quiet grumble was her only response, her hands rubbing at her tired eyes.
Fucking adorable.
Leaning down, I blew a slow breath against the crook of her neck.
She let out a soft, faint giggle, tilting her head away to escape the sensation.
My heart clenched.
I should never be allowed to feel this way.
After dinner, I left for my office to continue working.
Iris stayed in the bedroom.
She didn’t follow me. She never did.
And I hated that.
A sharp knock on the door cut through the silence.
I barely glanced up from my work, my fingers pausing over the documents spread out before me.
“Ace.”
Felix’s voice.
I inhaled deeply through my nose, already feeling irritation creeping in.
What now?
Slowly, I turned my head toward him, my expression impassive, cold.
Felix stood at the doorway, tension radiating off him in waves. Stressed. Troubled.
But I didn’t care.
"You're ruining her life," he said, his voice low, tight with barely contained frustration.
A weary hand ran through his hair as he rubbed at his temple.
I let a slow, deliberate silence stretch between us before I finally responded.
"Why do you care?" My tone was light, almost amused, as I raised an eyebrow at him.
I knew exactly what he meant.
I knew exactly what I was doing.
I was keeping her here against her will.
And yet, her choice didn’t matter.
The only thing that mattered was that she stayed with me.
That she was here, under my watch, safe, protected.
Felix’s jaw clenched. "It does matter. She's just a child—"
I scoffed, my expression darkening.
"—and she doesn't even fully understand what you're doing with her and her body!"
That made me pause.
What I’m doing with her and her body.
I tilted my head slightly, staring at Felix like he was some foolish, pathetic thing standing in my way.
"You're making it sound worse than it is," I said, voice flat.
"You haven’t even given her a choice!" he snapped, his voice rising.
I exhaled heavily, finally pushing back my chair and standing up.
Felix watched me warily, rightfully so.
"Why does it bother you so much, Felix?" I asked, taking slow steps toward him.
My smirk curled lazily at the corner of my mouth. "Do you have feelings for her as well?"
His expression darkened, but he didn’t answer.
Interesting.
I stood in front of him now, my presence looming, suffocating, but Felix held his ground.
"I'm not leaving her," I said, my voice turning hard. "No matter what happens."
Felix blinked, stunned by my declaration.
Everyone knew I wasn’t easily swayed by emotions.
But once I was attached to something—once I decided it was mine—I wouldn’t let go. Ever.
Felix swallowed, his throat bobbing.
He knew what I was capable of.
"And I haven't done anything with her," I added, tone nonchalant, indifferent. "Not yet."
A sharp intake of breath. His hands curled into fists.
"Liar," he spat. "I saw a disgusting mark on her neck."
My smirk widened.
"Ah," I mused, rolling my shoulders back. "Well, you know, we took a shower together, and she was so tempting. I couldn't control myself."
Felix’s nostrils flared. His teeth ground together as his face twisted with barely contained rage.
"You're sick, Ace."
I shrugged.
"Leave her before you end up regretting it," he continued, pleading now. "Like you still regret the loss of an innocent life from your past."
My entire body went rigid.
For a long, tense moment, I said nothing.
He shouldn’t have brought that up.
If it were anyone else, they’d be dead already.
Felix knew that.
And yet—
He still dared.
I exhaled slowly, shaking off the weight pressing against my chest, and stepped closer.
"Don't worry too much about her, Felix," I murmured, reaching out to pat his shoulder—firmly.
His muscles tensed under my touch.
"She's not like the girls you fuck," he bit out, his voice sharp, venomous.
I sighed.
"She isn’t," I agreed, completely unbothered.
My smirk returned, my grip tightening slightly before I pulled away.
"And she could never be like them," I continued, voice smooth, intentional.
"Which is why I’m not treating her the same way I treat the others in my life."
Felix’s expression twisted into something almost unreadable.
Maybe it was anger.
Maybe it was fear.
Or maybe—just maybe— he was finally realizing that nothing he said would ever change my mind.
"Look," Iris said, her voice light with excitement as she held up the dress she had recently purchased.
I barely lifted my eyes from my phone, lazily scrolling through notifications, messages, things that didn't matter.
Not as much as her.
She sat on the floor, surrounded by her shopping bag, neatly folded clothes, and little trinkets she had probably debated over in the store for far too long.
I exhaled through my nose, amusement curling at my lips.
"That's a beautiful dress, Mini," I said absently, still humming softly. "But you know, you really don’t have to buy any more dresses."
She let out a small noise— somewhere between a humph and a sigh.
"Yeah..." Her voice carried a hint of dissatisfaction, a tiny pout settling on her lips as she hugged the dress closer.
Adorable.
She had fought me on the dresses I had bought for her before, turning her nose up at my choices, stubborn thing.
But she took them anyway.
Of course, she did.
She doesn’t have a choice.
She just hasn’t fully realized that yet.
I glanced at the time. 11 PM.
I should be working.
Instead, I laid beside her on the bed and watched her.
She had fallen asleep, her breath slow, rhythmic, peaceful.
The hem of her dress had ridden up slightly, the sleeves slipping lazily off her shoulders, exposing more skin than she probably intended.
Her head rested against my arm, her hair a mess, the scent of her fresh, warm, sweet.
I dragged my fingers along the curve of her waist, light and deliberate.
She wasn’t voluptuous—not the kind of body most men would obsess over. But she had just enough. For me.
Just enough softness to fit into my hands.
Just enough warmth to make me ache.
My fingers twitched against her skin.
I wonder how she will taste.
The thought slithered into my mind, dark and undeniable.
She was untouched. Unexplored.
No man had been there before me.
Not a single fucking one.
She’s never had anyone’s hands on her like this.
Never been held down, kissed breathless, claimed.
I don’t even think she’s touched herself.
She’s never ached like that. Never needed.
A soft, breathless laugh escaped me.
What a little innocent thing I’ve found in this fucked-up world.
She stirred suddenly, shifting, rolling onto her back, exposing more of her neck, her collarbone, the delicate rise and fall of her chest.
I swallowed hard.
A girl like her would never sleep this peacefully with a man like me— Not if she truly understood what I am.
Who I am.
The realization hit me like a brick.
It wasn’t guilt. No.
Just a stark, undeniable awareness.
I should be ashamed.
I should leave her be, let her go, let her live a life far away from a man like me.
But I won’t.
Mature
Slowly, I maneuvered to hover closely over her, my breath mingling with the scent of her delicate skin.
The soft peak that I left on her neck felt like an promise of the pleasures to come, as my wicked tongue started to explore her soft skin with a slow rhythm.
A faint whine, filled with a mixture of pleasure and drowsy, escaped her throat as I delicately sucked on her neck.
Down her jawline I traced, bestowing tender kisses along the way, before finally planting a gentle kiss on her temple.
Moving my hand to stroke the sharp contours of her collarbones as I wrapped my hand around her neck.
Not too tight but with a hint of control.
Shifting my position to sit on my knees, I slowly began to lower her dress, the fabric cascading down to her waist with a whispering sigh.
With a practiced ease, I unclasped her bra, feeling a rush of satisfaction at the unveiling of her beauty.
As she stirred and let out a soft whine, her confusion only added a spark to my intense desire.
"What..you doing?" she murmured drowsily, her voice a mixture of curiosity and haze, her eyes squinting in the dim light.
Fuck me, she doesn't even know anything I am doing to her.
It was as if her innocence in that moment served to stoke the flames of my desire even further.
"Nothing, baby," I replied with a hint of a smirk, my voice low and filled with a seductive promise, "Now be a good girl and close your eyes."
She obediently closed her eyes.
I gently dipped my head around the curve of her graceful neck.
Her smell was divine. I couldn't get enough of it.
With a soft breath, I allowed myself to lower my head to the enchanting valley of her chest, where the delicate contours of her breasts beckoned me.
With my hands, I covered them entirely, I felt a wave of awe at the sheer perfection of her form.
As I began to knead her delicate boob gently, the sensation sent shivers down my spine.
The texture of her flesh was like silk beneath my touch, and as my thumb caressed her nipple.
She whined loudly.
Holy hell she sounded so fucking perfect.
As her back arched involuntarily, a wave of anticipation washed over me.
Taking one of her nipples into my mouth, I reveled in the gasp that echoed through the room.
The taste of her delicate skin, the softness of her flesh against my tongue, it was a sensation unlike any other.
As I swirled my tongue around her nipple, gently biting down, her response was immediate and intense.
The pressure of her hand on my shoulder, the urgency in the gesture, only spurred me on further.
Inexperienced yet eager, she pushed her breasts into my face, her body attuned to the pleasure I was providing.
She was not moaning but whining and groaning hard.
I have to teach her so many things, I guess.
Leaving her nipple with a parting kiss, I soothed the tender flesh with a gentle flicker of my tongue.
A silent apology for the fervor of my actions.
Her panting breath, the flush of her cheeks, the anticipation in her gaze, it all spoke volumes.
I kissed her chest gently, feeling the warmth of her skin under my lips, and hummed softly as I savored the moment.
With a sense of admiration, I rose to my feet to gaze upon the stunning sight before me.
Her legs were elegantly spread apart, her upper body displayed with my marks, and her gaze fixed upon the ceiling as she breathed heavily.
"Mini," I whispered affectionately as I ran my fingers lightly over her knees, prompting her to glance at me with shyness in her eyes.
"You look so beautiful, my sweet Mini," I murmured, locking eyes with her and feeling a rush of adoration.
Her response was sweet and sincere. "..T-Thank..y-you," she whispered softly.
Fucking hell, I am never leaving her, and today I am tasting her.
Reaching into a drawer, I retrieved a blindfold and gently secured it over her eyes before positioning myself on my knees before her.
As I carefully removed her boy short panty, adorned with a delicate flower pattern, she whimpered in mild discomfort.
"It's okay, bambi," I reassured her in a soothing tone, peppering her face with tender kisses.
"If we are going to play hide and seek....then why do I have to be....naked," she asked confused.
"You are truly pure at heart, bambi," I mused softly, planting gentle kisses on her face, eliciting a sigh of contentment from her.
Proceeding with delicate care, I lifted her frock, revealing the hidden gem that awaited beneath.
Her pretty little honeycomb was fully exposed to my eyes. Hell gracious!
Her delicate honeycomb glistened in the light, framed by a hint of soft hair, pink and adorned with slight brown patches.
Running my fingers lightly over her hair, I marveled at its softness, earning a gasp and a reflexive curling of her toes from her.
It is utter perfection.
As I gently traced my fingertip from the delicate curve of her navel to the very core of her sweet nectar.
A sudden, involuntary shudder ran through her body. So responsive.
A sense of deep contentment and desire filled my being as I gazed upon her, captivated by the sheer beauty and allure.
Leaning in closer, I positioned myself above her, my lips brushing against her jawline in a featherlight touch.
The moment felt fragile, like glass on the verge of shattering.
"You're everything I thought I lost," I murmured without thinking, the words slipping out like an undeniable truth.
She licked her lips absentmindedly, a small, unconscious habit, but it snared my attention instantly.
My gaze fixated on the way the light glossed over them, the way they parted slightly, soft and unknowing.
A tantalizing invitation that beckoned me closer.
She sighed softly, shifting beneath me, completely unaware of the storm raging inside my head.
I exhaled sharply, forcing myself to rein it in.
Control. I was always in control.
With our faces mere inches apart, I couldn't help but marvel at her beauty.
Then, like a gunshot breaking through the silence—
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