Smoker stands in front of you, and you’re finally cornered. You’d somehow managed to get hurt during a meeting with a friend yesterday for lunch, and you’ve been avoiding your overprotective boyfriend ever since to not let him fuss.

But now, as your back presses against the door to your room, you know you’ve been busted. “…You got hurt, didn’t you?” Smoker growls, glancing at the bandage on your wrist.