"There are three hundred seventy-seven ways a man can die. The worst?
Death through temptation by a beautiful woman."
That is something my grandfather told me when I was a boy, ten years old, maybe. Before he found out I wasn't stirred by women. Or men.
For the first time in over three decades, I finally understand what he meant.
I stand on the second floor of Chi Lou, a silver wine glass in one hand while the other grips the railing so tightly my knuckles burn white. The pain doesn't matter. It's nothing compared to what's happening below.
Nova.
She walks in.
A yellow dress hugs her body, every curve I once dared imagine pressed against me in a single reckless night.
Her long legs glisten beneath the warm lamplight. Her posture straight, hips swaying with a subtle wave.
Her hair spills in wild abandon past her waist, somehow untamed yet perfect. Her makeup is bold,smoky eyes deepening the danger in her gaze, burgundy lips smeared like cherries crushed between fingers.
Her laughter,loud, alive, free.....echoes across the hall. I could drown in it for eternity.
Three women enter with her, but I see no one else. My eyes belong only to her.
She takes a seat by the dance platform where seven women in orange and white hanfu spin and glide.
Nova leans toward a red-haired woman beside her, says something that makes the other laugh and pinch her cheek while Nova pouts.
My chest tightens. The wine in my hand feels frozen compared to the fire inside me.
She is always beautiful. Ethereal.
Whether she's devouring pizza after her first day, crying into my arms, or throwing me daggers with her eyes.
She makes me aware of every nerve, every cell, every part of my existence.
The ache in my trousers grows unbearable. I grit my teeth against the surge of heat burning through my stomach.
She doesn't know.
She can't know.
She must never know.
How I want to pull her away...corner her where no one else can see. Whisper her real name like a prayer against her skin.
Take those lips into mine, taste her, let my hands map every inch of her body as if she were my only muse.
I want to hold her. To claim her. To carve her name into my body, my soul, and burn mine into hers.
I want to belong to her. With her. Only her.
"Hmm. Rare to see a woman dressed decently in Chi Lou," Nikolai murmurs, breaking into my thoughts.
I follow his gaze. Not Nova,never Nova,but the woman beside her.
A high-neck Victorian blouse, straight black trousers, hair thrown into a careless bun. She slurps from a bowl of noodles, then smacks Nova's shoulder hard enough to make both of them groan.
"Doesn't look like your type," Li Zhao teases Nikolai, who shoots him a glare.
"Listen, you walking manwhore. Not everyone thinks every woman is worth falling in love with," Nikolai snaps.
I tune them out. They can circle each other forever—Li Zhao, the perpetual degenerate; Nikolai, the disdainful purist.
It doesn't matter.
My wine glass touches my lips, but my eyes return to Nova. She sits with her legs crossed.....careless, exposed.
My breath stops. The world blurs. All that remains is the painful reminder straining inside my trousers and the thought that I want her here, now.
And worse, other men see it too. Around the platform, their eyes crawl over her, hungry, leering.
Rage sears through me. My grip on the silver glass bends its stem until it warps in my fist.
"Clear the men from around the dance platform," I say, voice clipped, ice-cold.
Li Zhao frowns. "What? What do—"
"Move any bastard away from the platform. And draw a curtain between that table where they sit and ...everyone else."
His jaw clicks, ready to argue, but he doesn't. Li Zhao knows better than to press me when I speak like this.
"Fine. But you'll pay me for it," he mutters, already pulling out his phone.
I drain the rest of my wine, eyes locked back on Nova.
Oblivious.
Happy.
Radiant.
She doesn't know. I would never restrict her. Never tell her what to wear, what to do.
But I will pluck out the eyes of any man who dares look at her like this. I will draw curtain after curtain between her and the world until she is mine alone.
She lifts a spoonful of dumpling soup to her lips, chasing it with a glass of Li Zhao's strongest liquor.
God help me.
This woman will be the end of me.
And I will let her.
"She's eating like she's starved her entire life," Nikolai murmurs, amusement flickering in his amber eyes different from the usual calculating spark he reserves for targets.
"Your soulmate, noodle lover," Li Zhao smirks, a jab at Nikolai's expense.
Nikolai reacts instantly, elbowing Li Zhao hard in the stomach. Li Zhao's eyes widen, pain flashing across his face.
Hunching over, clutching his stomach, he glares at Nikolai, furious. "What was that for?"
Nikolai smirks, cold and villainous, satisfaction curling his lips. "Just a reminder that the world doesn't revolve around your rotten brain."
Li Zhao scoffs, straightening up, clearly itching to retaliate but he knows better. One more misstep, and Nikolai wouldn't hesitate to break a rib.
Nikolai turns his gaze toward me. "You know the girl in yellow? You've been staring."
I nod, my eyes flicking back to Nova. She's half-drunk now, swaying onto the dance platform with the specialized dancers of Chi Lou.
Her blonde- and red-haired friends join her while the black-haired one claps and cheers, scarfing down another dumpling.
My chest swells with a warmth I've never felt before.
"She's… special," I murmur, low and soft.
Nikolai and Li Zhao exchange glances, disbelief written across their faces as they look at her, then back at me. No words could ever capture what this woman means to me.
I pour myself another glass of wine, watching her dancing, laughing, living—my desire and yearning for her locked tight within my chest.
This night… it was meant to end quietly, with me drowning my emotions in alcohol, letting them burn away.
But what happened next…
It rewrote everything I ever knew about my life. And I didn't regret a single second.
.....
"Don't hold back. Make me forget everything except you, Aaron."