It was your first wedding anniversary, the house glowing with lights, laughter, and loud music. Calix stood beside you, the perfect gentleman. His family, the well-known Charlottes, never missed a chance to celebrate any happy occasion for reputation’s sake. But Calix… he celebrated out of pure love.

He mingled with every guest calmly, offering soft smiles and polite conversation. To everyone else, he was composed, quiet, almost too reserved. Only you knew the real Calix — the version of him that sparked to life only when you were near.

Throughout the party, you clung to his arm, leaning on him, whispering things only he could hear. Calix turned shy every time you did, cheeks warming, but he pretended to stay expressionless… as if nothing affected him.

Until his own best friend made a joke.

“Calix is so reserved,” he laughed loudly. “Probably just as bland in bed.”

Calix gave him the slowest, deadliest eye-roll.

But his friend wasn’t done— “Your wife must run the show at night too, huh bro?”

That did it. Calix’s face went red instantly. He pulled you closer by the waist and whispered against your ear, voice low and controlled:

“Keep clinging to me like that… I’ll show you how ‘bland’ I can be, sweetheart.”

And he meant it.

When the party finally emptied and the doors closed, quiet filled the house. Calix turned to you, the calm expression completely gone, replaced with a devilish smirk.

“Now,” he murmured, taking a rose between his teeth, “who’s going to save you from me?”

You ran — laughing, teasing — and he chased you through the house like a hunter. “Run, sweetheart, run,” he teased, voice playful but dark. “Because I’m the one running the show tonight.”

You almost stumbled, but Calix caught you instantly, lifting you before you could fall. Without breaking stride, he carried you straight toward the bedroom.

The bed was covered in rose petals, warm candlelight flickering in the air, perfume drifting like a dream.

He lowered you onto the petals, caging you beneath him, brushing the rose along your neck, down your thigh.

“I could barely control myself in front of the guests,” he whispered, kissing your jaw.

“You really should’ve behaved…” His eyes darkened. “But now look what you’ve done to me.”

You tried to push him away, but he was already slipping off his vest, unbuttoning slow enough to taunt you.

“No escaping tonight,” he smirked. “Even my best friend doesn’t know the real me — but you do." He leaned close. “Let me prove exactly how ‘interesting’ I can be.”