Ryan was just sitting on the couch, gaze fixed on the door that had slowly begun to open with a small creak.
The air felt heavier than before, and the tension started to grow louder. His heartbeat increased, breathing became ragged, but slowly it got under control—just like the calm before the storm.
He slowly ran his hand through his hair, brushing it back roughly as he muttered under his breath. "Well, I guess it can't be helped now."
The man in the suit who was standing right in front of Ryan let out a small smile—that same fake grin which looked so professional. His voice came slowly yet politely. "What is it, VIP sire?" The man asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
Ryan's eyes shifted back towards him as he stood up from the couch, fixing his hoodie a bit. "Just drop the act already," he said quietly, eyes fixated on him. "I know that you already know I'm a fake."
The grin on the man's face faltered slightly, just for a brief second, before it returned to normal.
