Hua's POV:
"What does this evil creature have planned this time…" Yichen muttered, rubbing his eyes as sunlight spilled through the curtains.
"Evil creature?" I repeated, blinking at him, not sure I'd heard correctly.
"The most evil one," he replied, tapping the tip of my nose playfully. "You have to be careful, okay?"
I nodded, smiling despite myself. Why was he like this—so gentle one second, teasing the next? It made my heart skip a beat.
I leaned toward him, ready to kiss him—
Then his stomach growled.
This time, it wasn't mine. I froze, then burst out laughing.
He joined in, shaking his head. "Guess it's time for breakfast."
We stood, and as the cool morning air brushed against my skin, reality struck me like lightning. I gasped and grabbed the blanket, wrapping it around my body in panic.
Yichen tilted his head, amused. "What's all that fuss for?"
"Don't look!" I yelped, clutching the blanket tighter.
He chuckled—a low, warm sound that made me blush even harder. "Gentle reminder…" he began, eyes glinting with mischief. "I already saw… everything."
I wanted to throw a pillow at him. Instead, I gawked as he casually slipped on his boxers, muscles flexing in a way that felt illegal. I had to look away before my face melted. He smirked knowingly and left the room like it was nothing.
That pervert.
I threw on the hotel bathrobe—soft, luxurious, smelling faintly of roses—and followed him out. He was sitting on the couch, scrolling through the breakfast menu. I sat beside him, resting my head on his shoulder, feeling embarrassingly content.
"What do you want to eat?" he asked, voice soft, thumb brushing my temple.
I glanced at the menu. Everything looked like it belonged in a dream: crepes, croque-madames, layered parfaits, quiches, croissants, all so delicate and golden I could smell the butter through the page.
"Everything," I said instantly.
He chuckled. "Everything?"
I nodded. "Everything."
Big mistake. He reached for the hotel phone and said calmly,
"Room service? Breakfast for 505. Yes. Everything, please."
I almost choked. "Wait—Yichen! I didn't mean literally—"
He winked. "Too late."
When breakfast arrived, I realized he wasn't joking. The staff rolled a silver food cart to the door, but under Yichen's strict instructions, they didn't step inside. "No one sees you like this," he had said, his voice low. Possessive. Hot.
So there he was, shirtless, unpacking the trays himself—plates of fruit, smoked salmon, pancakes, steaming coffee, pastries that glistened like jewels. It looked like heaven on wheels.
I bit into a croissant, and it melted. I almost moaned. The crunch, the butter—it was perfection. For a few seconds, I forgot about everything, including that stupid company trip.
"Any news about tomorrow?" I asked finally.
He glanced up, lips dusted with sugar. "Zhang Wei said we'll get an email from the direction soon."
I nodded, unconvinced. He read my expression and reached over, brushing his hand through my hair. "Don't worry. It's gonna be okay. We'll deal with whatever they throw at us."
His hand lingered, petting my head gently, and my stomach fluttered worse than the croissant had melted.
Then—buzz.
A notification from his phone. He picked it up immediately.
"Ah. There it is—the email."
Curiosity got the better of me, so I leaned closer, peeking at the screen.
But before I could read, he grabbed my wrist and tugged me toward him. I stumbled forward, confused, until I realized what he wanted. His lap.
"You want me to—?"
He nodded once. The tiniest smirk. "Sit."
So I did. Slowly, nervously, my back pressed to his chest, his breath ghosting over my neck as he opened the email.
"Subject: Monday's Business Trip," he read aloud.
"Thank you for your hard work.
We decided to organize a business trip to reinforce morale and teamwork.
The direction values your contribution, so we decided the Innovation Lab cannot travel with us. You'll continue working during the trip and will be rewarded with a special bonus."
"What?!" we both said in unison.
"They kicked you off the trip?!" I snapped, turning to face him. My voice came out sharper than I meant. "Why would they—"
"It looks like Yiran planned everything," he muttered. His tone was calm, but his eyes—dark, unreadable—were burning with thought.
I could tell he was strategizing. Planning. That man never reacted without calculating his next move.
"If you're not going, I won't go either," I blurted out. "I'll pretend to be sick."
He shook his head. "No. You have to go. If you don't, he'll find another way to get close to you."
"But—"
"Don't worry." His voice softened. "Nothing bad will happen to you. I promise."
The way he said it—firm, unwavering—made something deep inside me melt. I didn't fully believe him, but I wanted to. I wanted to believe in him, in us.
We finished breakfast in silence. My mind was spinning with "what ifs," but then my gaze drifted to the bathroom door, and I decided I needed a distraction.
The bathroom was straight out of a movie—a Miami 80s penthouse kind of luxury. Pink and white marble, mirrors outlined with golden lights, and at the center, a massive jacuzzi-style tub with little stairs leading up to it. There were columns on either side like a palace bathhouse.
It was beautiful… but there was one problem.
A huge glass window right behind the bathtub, floor-to-ceiling, overlooking the city.
Sure, we were high enough that no one could probably see us—but I felt seen. There was no way I was getting naked in front of that window.
Knock knock.
I jumped. "Do you need something?" I called out.
No answer. Then the door opened. Yichen stepped in like he owned the place. His eyes flicked from the window to me. "What are you trying to do?"
I hesitated. "I… I wanted to take a shower."
He smirked, crossing his arms. "And offer the entire city a free show?"
My jaw dropped. "How am I supposed to shower then?!"
Still smirking, he walked over to the wall beside the bath, pressed something I hadn't noticed before—a small button almost camouflaged into the marble—and the automatic blinds began to descend with a smooth whirr.
"Oh!" I gasped. "Thank you! I was scared I'd have to shower in front of random people."
"You don't have to do that," he said, stepping closer, eyes darkening.
Then, softly: "You only have to do it in front of me."
Before I could process, he scooped me into his arms like I weighed nothing. My feet left the ground, and I squeaked.
"Yichen! The robe—don't get it wet!"
"You're right," he said, lips twitching. "You should take it off."
I glared. "You're impossible."
He laughed, that low, dangerous laugh that made me weak. His arms tightened around me as he lowered me into the tub. Steam curled up between us. The air felt suddenly… heavier.
"More seriously," he said, leaning closer, his breath brushing my ear. "We need to check out soon. Let's shower together. Save time."
"Save time?" I echoed skeptically.
"Yeah. Efficiency," he said, poker-faced.
I sighed, pretending to give in. "Fine. I guess we don't have a choice."
His eyes widened as I untied the robe. I turned my back, tossed it aside, and leaned over to turn on the water. Behind me, I heard him inhale sharply.
"Wait—wait, I still have my underwear on." he said.
I groaned, voice low. "Hurry up, grandma."
When I turned, he was already stripping off his boxers, faster than I could blink. My eyes—well, they wandered. I couldn't help it.
He caught me.
"You're a perv," he said flatly, though his mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile.
He grabbed the soap, lathered it in his hands, and then—
"Scrub those freaky thoughts off you," he said as he began rubbing the bubbles over my shoulder.
I didn't even try to argue. His hands were warm, slow, tracing the curve of my neck, my collarbone, down my arm. Every touch sent sparks through me. I could still taste last night in the air between us, the memory of his lips, the sound of his voice saying my name.
Then—
Knock. Knock. Knock.
We both froze.
"Do you hear that?" I whispered.
Yichen frowned, turning off the water. "Someone's knocking?"
The sound came again, louder this time—rapid, impatient.
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
My pulse spiked. "Is it room service?"
"No. We still have three hours before checkout."
"Three hours? Then why were you so eager to shower with me—"
He clamped his hand over my mouth, eyes narrowing.
"Wait. I hear something else."
The world went quiet. Then—
"YICHEN! I KNOW YOU'RE THERE!"
We both froze. That voice.
My stomach dropped.
"Is that… Yiran?" Yichen muttered.
I strained my ears. Another round of furious pounding on the door.
"YICHEN! OPEN THE DOOR!"
I gasped, meeting his eyes. "It's him!"
He exhaled sharply. "Of course it's him."
The air crackled with tension. I clutched the edge of the tub, heart hammering. Yiran's voice came again, louder, angrier, echoing through the hallway.
"YOU THINK YOU CAN HIDE HER FROM ME?!"
I looked at Yichen, panic flashing through me.
"What do we do?"
He didn't answer immediately. His jaw tightened, the muscles in his arms flexing as he straightened. In one smooth motion, he grabbed a towel, wrapping it loosely around his waist, and stepped toward the door with that calm, lethal composure that made him look untouchable.
Then, over his shoulder, he said quietly—
"Stay here. Don't move."
Incoming... Part II... To be continued… 💋