I landed into something hard—solid, unmovable—but also unfairly soft at the same time, which was honestly confusing enough that my brain decided to lag for a second.

"Wh—"

My vision swam slightly from the sudden pull, and it took me a moment to realize exactly what position I had ended up in. And when I did, I froze.

I was sitting on someone’s lap.

’...Excuse me? Why did this bastard—’

The thought didn’t even finish forming because suddenly, I felt a gaze.

It was a full-on, intense, ’I-have-locked-onto-you-and-you-are-now-my-problem’ kind of stare.

I slowly looked up and immediately regretted it.

Because wow.

His eyes.

His right eye was a clear, striking green, sharp and focused.

But his left...

His left was something else entirely. A strange mix of blue and red, like colors that had no business being together but somehow worked in a way that felt illegal, hypnotic, and distracting.

My gaze, traitor that it was, kept going.

Sharp jawline.

Clean features.

Lips that looked like they belonged in a painting.

And overall—

’He’s... he’s so freaking handsome—’

I snapped back to reality so hard I almost gave myself whiplash.

’Focus!’

"You know this is rude, right?" I said, immediately trying to push myself off him because what is personal space and why is it not being respected today?

Except—

his grip tightened.

One arm around my waist, like I had just been declared property of this spot and was no longer allowed to leave. 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

I frowned.

Deeply.

"...Alright," I said, already done with life, "I’m reporting you for sexual harassment."

I raised my hand to slap him.

Or punch him.

Or something.

Honestly, at this point, I was just scaring him so he could release me but before I could even execute my move properly, he caught my wrist mid-air like it was nothing.

"...Wow," I muttered.

Rude.

So I used my other hand at which he also caught it effortlessly. If my hands don’t work then I’ll use my legs instead.

I tried to kick him but he blocked it again. I looked at him, he didn’t even look strained.

Meanwhile, I was out here throwing a full combo attack like my life depended on it, and he was treating it like mild exercise.

At this point, I was no longer fighting for freedom.

I was fighting for my dignity.

I twisted, struggled, attempted to outmaneuver him using every bit of self-defense I had learned, only for it to end with both my wrists pinned together in one of his hands.

His other arm stayed locked around my waist like a seatbelt I absolutely did not buckle myself into, and at this point I was starting to wonder if I had somehow signed up for this nonsense in a past life.

"What is wrong with you?!" I snapped, twisting in his hold, fully prepared to escalate this into a public scene complete with shouting, accusations, and possibly a dramatic faint for effect.

Instead of answering like a normal person, he pulled me closer.

Closer.

As in—sir, there is no more closer, we are already violating several social boundaries and at least two laws.

I had been kidnapped by a silent, strong, ridiculously attractive lunatic.

My life choices were incredible.

"Let go—!"

Nothing.

He only tightened his hold.

"Okay, that’s it!" I declared, because clearly words weren’t working and I had officially run out of patience. So I did what any reasonable, dignified individual would do in this situation.

I bit him.

Hard.

Right on the neck.

No hesitation. No mercy. Just full commitment.

If I was going down, I was taking a chunk of him with me.

I even tasted blood, which, in hindsight, was both disgusting and slightly concerning, but I was too focused on my goal, which was freedom, to dwell on that.

Any sane person would have let go immediately.

Any sane person would have shoved me off, called security, maybe reconsidered their life choices.

This man?

He groaned.

Not in pain.

No, no.

In something that made my soul briefly consider leaving my body.

And then, because clearly things were not unhinged enough yet, he buried his face into the crook of my neck and inhaled like he had just found oxygen after years of suffocation.

I froze. "...Excuse me?"

What.

Was.

That??????!!!!

He didn’t answer.

He just stayed there, holding me tightly, breathing me in like I was some kind of stress relief candle.

My brain officially gave up.

"MISTER!" I finally managed, jolting in his hold like I had just regained control of my own limbs. "LET ME GO!"

His grip didn’t loosen. If anything, it steadied. Like he was holding onto the last stable thing in the world.

"I’m sorry," he said, voice low and uneven, breath still warm against my skin like he hadn’t just been bitten and was somehow the victim here. "I promise... I won’t do anything else... Just... let me hold you for a while..."

I stared at absolutely nothing, trying to process the situation and failing miserably.

He kidnapped me behind a curtain.

Pinned me like I was a limited-edition collectible.

Got bitten.

Did not react appropriately.

And now he was politely asking for a hug?

I opened my mouth to scream.

With the full intention of ruining his day, his reputation, and possibly his entire bloodline—

"I’ll compensate you," he cut in, breath still uneven, like he had just run a marathon instead of being bitten by a stranger.

"...What?" I stopped, mid-breath.

"50,000," I said immediately.

No hesitation.

No shame.

Because priorities first. Survival second.

He didn’t even hesitate. "Done."

’Well that was... easy.’

"Include the items I bought from here in your tab," I added, I might as well be financially compensated to the fullest extent.

"Done," he said again, with the same terrifying level of ease.

I narrowed my eyes.

That was... not normal.

People hesitate over splitting a bill for coffee. This man just agreed to drop a small fortune like he was confirming the weather.

Either he was ridiculously rich or I was about to get scammed so hard I’d end up paying him instead.

"I don’t believe you," I said flatly.

"Can we just... stay like this...?" he murmured, completely ignoring my very valid concern about potential fraud. "Let’s wait for my aide to come... and you can have the money..."

I hesitated because... unfortunately... that sounded reasonable.

And when I actually thought about it, against my will, might I add, the only crime he committed so far was the dramatic kidnapping via curtain and turning me into a human body pillow.

He hadn’t actually done anything.

No wandering hands.

No weird movements.

No attempts at anything... else.

Just... holding me, keeping me still, like I might evaporate if he let go.

I exhaled slowly. "...Fine," I muttered, because again—money.

Because 50,000 was 50,000.

Because my shopping bill was about to be covered.

Because I wasn’t currently being murdered.

Also because struggling clearly wasn’t getting me anywhere except further humiliation.

I shifted slightly, adjusting into a less awkward position on his lap. "...You owe me extra if I get emotional damage from this," I added.

No response.

Just the same uneven breathing.

I blinked, staring at the curtain in front of us. "...This is weird," I muttered under my breath.

It felt strangely similar.

He’s just like... Soren.

The way he’d just... grab me sometimes and treat me like a very expensive stuffed toy with attitude problems.

Except this time, I was getting paid which, objectively, made this the better deal.

I relaxed, just a little, letting him hold me as his breathing slowly evened out.

"...You better not be lying about the money," I added lazily.

"...I’m not."

"Good."

"...Also," I continued, because why not commit to this situation, "if your aide takes too long, the price goes up."

A weak, breathy sound escaped him. "...Understood."

I leaned back slightly. "Can we at least hold hands?" I asked, trying to salvage some sense of control in this deeply questionable situation.

"No."

"Then can I sit on the couch instead?"

"No."

"...Then can you at least stop inhaling me like I’m an aromatherapy inhaler?"

A pause.

"...Can’t."

My eye twitched. "Then can you at least fix our position so we don’t both wake up feeling like we got folded into a suitcase?" I asked, because if I was going to be held hostage as a glorified comfort item, I refused to also suffer muscle cramps.

He didn’t answer immediately, which, at this point, I had come to understand was his default setting—mysterious silence with a hint of emotional instability.

But after a second, he shifted. Just slightly. Adjusted his hold to make things a bit comfortable... But at least my spine wasn’t filing a complaint anymore.

Since I was apparently stuck here until his aide arrived with my compensation, I did the only thing left for me to do.

I observed him.

Up close.

Which, in hindsight, was a mistake, because now I had time to notice things.

He had black hair—soft-looking, slightly messy in a way that felt intentional, like he woke up looking like that and chose violence anyway.