Dr. Arno Theryn Solace woke up early, wrapped in something warm and… alive.
Still drifting between sleep and wakefulness, her hand slid across a soft surface—*tap, tap.* Wait. That wasn't a pillow. A "human body?"
Her eyes shot open. "What the—did I just sleep with a man?" Worse—"was I just groping him in my sleep?!" She sat up straight in bed, a minor panic attack loading. Think, Arno, think. She'd gone out to meet her best friend in the Ridgehill club. There was a drink. Then a mafia chase—"yes, that part was real"—and she somehow ended up in this room asking for help.
She looked down.
No clothes.
"Brilliant. Truly inspiring, Dr. Solace. Nobel Prize for Regret incoming."
Then she looked at the man lying beside her. Face blindfolded, body unfairly sculpted. Even though she couldn't see his eyes, his scent felt almost… familiar. Dangerous, even.
One last look at his torso and— no, stop it. Stop ogling.
*Get a grip, Arno.*
She smacked her forehead lightly. "You're a doctor. You've seen countless bodies. Professional bodies. Surgical bodies. Why are you drooling over this one?" she scolded herself under her breath.
As she bent to grab her clothes from the floor, her back gave a sharp protest.
She froze.
"Oh no. No no no. My back… is sore."
Was he a *man* or a *beast?!* She hobbled to the bathroom like a tragic ballerina and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Bite marks. Plural. On her neck. Scattered like wildflowers in spring.
"God *damn*," she muttered, tugging her dress over the evidence of last night's… battle.
The man was still sleeping peacefully in the room, as if he hadn't crushed her spine and reputation in one short night single-handedly
"I kinda want to peek," she whispered, tiptoeing closer. "Just to make sure I didn't sleep with an ugly duckling."
Her hand hovered over the blindfold.
But then she hesitated. *What if he wakes up?*
Nope. Bad idea. Abort mission.
Besides, as memories trickled back, she recalled something even worse—*she* was the one who made the first move. *She* climbed into bed first. *She* promised to "take responsibility."
*Arno, you disaster of a woman.*
Squeezing her hand, she slipped her hand into the purse, taking out a pen and a notepad and scribbled something:
"If you remember anything from last night… keep it to yourself. If you don't, even better. —The doctor who may or may not have ruined your back too."
She left the note on the bedside table, took one last look at the man—still unconscious, still criminally attractive—and bolted out of the room like a surgeon late for her own surgery.
---
[LUCIEN'S POV]
She fled the room like a thief at sunrise. No goodbye. No explanation. Just a note in my hand and her scent still tangled in the sheets.
I sat up in bed, squinting at the paper like it might punch me.
Arno Theryn Solace... well played.
You played with me like a toy and acted like a cat with half-dead mouse. What did you take me for? A one-night pleasure? A pity project? I groaned and looked to my right—the space where she lay last night. It was still warm. Damn it.
Then my eyes landed on something else.
Blood. On the bedcover.
I froze.
So... it was her first time too.
A wary smile crept onto my face. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to feel honored, heartbroken, or hysterical. Probably all three. Welcome to my life.
I got up, half-dazed, pulling on my clothes like I'd just walked out of a war zone—shirt inside out, buttons misaligned—when the door clicked.
"Mr. Moreaux? Can I come in?"
It was Shan's voice. My assistant-slash-personal-gremlin. Now he was knocking? What happened, did hell freeze over?
"Since when did you get civilized? You usually barge in like you own the place," I called out.
"Ahem, Mr. Moreaux..." he entered, eyes already glinting. That devilish smile. Oh no. He knew.
"Just say it," I groaned.
"When I came back with the doctor, your door was locked. So we didn't disturb you," he said innocently. Too innocently.
Then he added, "I saw Ms. Solace sneaking out this morning. In a hurry. Hair messy. Lipstick smudged. You two… you know…?"
He wiggled his eyebrows like a circus act. I considered firing him on the spot.
"You want a salary deduction?" I asked flatly.
"Bwahahaha!" He started laughing as if there's no tomorrow, hands on his knees like he couldn't breathe, so...so...Mr. Heartthrob has finally lost his innocence. And with that he doubled the laughing.
Then, like flipping a switch, his tone sobered.
"But seriously, Mr. Moreaux. Last night, while I was on the phone, I noticed a group of suspicious people lurking outside your room. Looked like they were searching for someone."
I narrowed my eyes.
"Don't worry. Our guards caught them and brought them in for interrogation."
"Good work. What about the Luma Group and that little stunt they pulled?"
"Terminated. We've cut all business ties with them and made it public—anyone who sides with Luma Group is now an enemy of Moreaux Corp."
Excellent. Burn the bridges, salt the earth.
As we entered the elevator, Shan lowered his voice, still fishing.
"So… about Dr. Solace. Want me to dig into her background? Confront her? She vanished pretty quick this morning..."
"No need," I said, watching the elevator doors reflect my face. There was a smile there. Small. Stupid. Stubborn.
"Mr. Moreaux," Shan said slyly, leaning closer. "You're blushing."
"Am I?"
"Yes."
He grinned. "Like a lovesick teenager who just got kissed under the bleachers."
I adjusted my collar.
"Shut up, Shan."
---
Dr. Arno Theryn Solace stormed out of Ridgehill Club and drove straight to the one person she never thought she'd have to confront. Her jaw was tight, her eyes blazing—betrayal stung worse when it came wrapped in a familiar face.
Twelve years of friendship. Shattered.
"Angika Ruxin," she said, voice low and shaking, "you betrayed me. You betrayed us. Don't think I'm someone you can push around whenever it suits you."
Her hands trembled, not from fear—but fury.
"You better pray you're clean. That you had nothing to do with what happened last night," Arno whispered, every word sharp as a scalpel. "Because if you did... I'll find out."