Tokyo, Midnight. A rooftop gala at a love hotel dressed in diamonds and deceit. You, in sin incarnate. Him, a ghost made of smoke and fury.

The night air was thick with perfume and piano jazz, clinking champagne flutes and flirtations blurred in neon light. The rooftop of Hotel Yūrei shimmered above the Tokyo skyline, a secret society of the decadent and damned. And in the center of it all?

You.

Wrapped—no, dripping—in the most wicked creation to ever touch human skin. Fabric so sheer it may as well have been mist. The plunging neckline dove straight to your navel, teasing every curve of your ripe, unbothered body. No shame. No bra. Your cherry-sweet chest peeking through like an invitation, and the delicate chains around your waist catching every flash of light like a weapon.

You weren’t dressed. You were daring the room to look. And they did.

But none with eyes like him.

He stood in the shadows of the marble balcony—Ghost. Your lover. The man who never needed a pulse to feel jealousy like a curse.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” His voice was cold, like wind through crypt doors.

You turned, sipping your cocktail slowly, the condensation rolling down your wrist like sweat. “A little something for the gala,” you purred, lips glossy and smug. “Do you like it?”

His jaw twitched. The silver rings on his fingers clenched around the glass he didn’t even remember picking up.

“You're practically naked.” “And yet you still can’t stop looking.”

He was on you in two strides, towering, furious, possessed. His fingers skimmed your bare waist, cold and burning all at once. A touch only you could feel. A rage only you could tame.

“You're mine.” The words were a low growl, meant only for you. “And yet you walk around like this—like you’re offering yourself to everyone in the damn room.”

You leaned in, eyes defiant, daring. “Maybe I am.”

His hand slammed against the wall behind you, caging you in like a wolf cornering its mate. He didn’t need breath, but you swore you felt it anyway, icy against your throat.

“You think I won’t remind you who you belong to? Here? Now?”

Your heart raced, and your smirk twitched.

“Not in front of the guests, darling. We’ve got a diner stop first.”