NICOLE
The soft leather of the S-Class seat cradles me, but it can't soothe the strange ache deep inside. My body still hums with the ghost of last night—the soreness, the shock, the terrifying pleasure.
But my mind is stuck on something else entirely: the feel of his arms around me as I fell asleep. So strong, yet so still. So… gentle.
"I didn't know he was capable of that."
The memory is a quiet storm in my head, so loud I barely notice the world outside the car. Then, a sharp buzz cuts through the silence. I glance over. On the screen of his phone, a name flashes: Akane.
"I don't know her."
He taps a button, and it stops. A minute later, it buzzes again. He declines it again, his jaw tight. When it rings for a third time, he lets out a short, irritated breath and stabs the answer button.
"What is it, Akane?" His voice is flat, a clear warning.
I can't hear her words, just a faint, frantic buzzing from the earpiece. He listens for a moment, his expression utterly bored.
