Charles pov
I should have walked away.
I wanted to walk away.
After that kiss—
God, that kiss—
I needed distance. I needed air. I needed anything that wasn't her soft mouth and the way my entire chest felt like it was trying to beat its way out of my ribs.
But the moment I stepped outside the hall, something in me twisted—tight, sharp, wrong.
Because she wasn't beside me.
And that wasn't part of the plan.
I told myself it was strategy. Calculation. Control.
I told myself I needed her near because Ethan was unpredictable, because we had eyes on us, because I couldn't risk the deal—
But that was a lie.
I didn't like her walking off without me.
I didn't like the idea of him talking to her.
I didn't like anything that didn't involve her being exactly where I could see her.
I scanned the entrance, ready to go back in—
and then I heard her voice.
And his.
The sound of Ethan's smooth, arrogant tone crawled under my skin like a parasite.
"…you would make money for yourself too—"
I froze.
My pulse stopped.
Then exploded.
I moved before I even understood how—just instinct, sharp and violent, the kind that had gotten me into fights growing up, the kind the military tried to beat out of me, the kind my father always warned me would "ruin the family name."
I didn't care about the family name now.
All I cared about was the way Ethan had his hand on Confidence's waist.
Too tight.
Too familiar.
Too damn close.
I saw her palm fly up—
I saw him grab her—
I saw his face dip toward hers, like he had any right—
And that was it.
My body went cold.
My vision narrowed.
I didn't think. I reacted.
In three strides I was behind him.
"Let. Her. Go."
My voice wasn't loud.
But it was lethal.
Ethan stiffened, but he didn't move his hand.
That was his second mistake.
His first was touching her at all.
Confidence's eyes snapped to mine—wide, shaken—but she didn't look afraid of me. She looked… relieved.
That did something to me. Something dangerous.
Ethan turned slightly, a pathetic smirk twisting his mouth.
"Oh look," he sneered, "her little bodyguard has arrived—"
I didn't let him finish.
My hand closed around his wrist, steel-tight, and I squeezed until I felt bones grind.
Ethan let go of her instantly, hissing in pain.
"Touch her again," I growled, leaning in close enough for him to smell exactly how serious I was, "and you won't have a hand left to sign contracts with."
Just watch me fuck her real good after now,like a man would. I'm trying to control myself but he wouldn't shut his mouth.
I wouldn't only fuck her real good she would suck my dick with those lips she used to kiss you," now i couldn't hold it. My hands were on his face, he was on the floor bleeding from the nose and lips, Confidence shouting and begging me to let him go,I couldn't believe what just happened.
"You're insane," he spat.
"No," I said softly, "I'm worse."
Confidence stood there trembling.
Not with fear—
with anger. With humiliation. With the need to claw back her dignity.
Ethan glared at us both, breath shaking with fury.
"This isn't over," he snapped.
"Yes," I said, "it is."
He left in a storm of ego and cheap cologne.
Confidence let out a breath she'd been holding, her shoulders sagging.
"Charles…" she whispered.
I turned to her—slowly, because anything faster and I might pin her against the wall and kiss her again.
"You okay?"
She nodded. Then shook her head. Then nodded again.
And then she did something I didn't expect—
She stepped into me.
Not fully.
Not enough to make it obvious.
But enough that I felt the heat of her body, the press of her breath, the softness she tried so hard to hide.
My hand moved to her waist—
exactly where Ethan's had been—
but gentler.
Protective.
Possessive.
"Don't let him get into your head," I said. "He doesn't deserve space there."
Her eyes lifted to mine, and damn—
I forgot how to breathe for a moment.
Something was shifting between us.
And I was helpless against it.
I didn't want to be helpless.
But I was.
"Charles…" she whispered again, softer this time.
I swallowed hard.
She had no idea what she was doing to me.
No woman ever made me feel anything other than impatience or boredom.
I never let them.
That was the rule.
And yet here I was—
heart hammering, fists still clenched, adrenaline flooding me—
Because someone dared touch her.
This wasn't part of the plan.
This wasn't in the contract of whatever fake relationship we were selling.
This wasn't strategic.
This was personal.
Way too personal.
I leaned down, my forehead almost touching hers.
"He won't come near you again," I promised—quiet, absolute, and deadly.
She shivered.
Not in fear.
In something else.
Something I wanted to feel again.
Something I wasn't supposed to want at all.
I forced myself to step back a little.
"Let's get inside," I said, voice low. "Before the whole party realizes I'm about to break his jaw."
And as we walked in—her fingers brushing mine, her scent making my pulse trip over itself—
The party was already dying when we slipped back inside, but all I could think about was her hand trembling a little inside mine. Ethan was nowhere to be seen—thank God—and Ruth had dragged him off in some dramatic storm of complaints.
Good.
The night was already poisoned enough.
By the time we reached the hotel hallway, everyone was exhausted. Confidence looked ready to collapse. The fake ring on her finger caught the light—too bright, too real—and for some reason, I didn't want her taking it off.
We reached the elevators. Two of them. Two rooms. Two separate doors waiting to swallow us back into whatever reality existed before this madness.
She stepped inside the elevator.
I didn't want her to go.
"Confidence," I said.
She turned, brown eyes soft and swollen with the night's chaos. "Yes?"
My throat tightened for reasons I did not want to analyze.
"How about…" I cleared my throat, "we go on a strangers' date tomorrow?"
Her face lit up like sunrise—bright, surprised, disarming.
She smiled. "I would really like that."
And damn, I felt it.
Right in my chest.