Chan sat at the head of the long velvet booth, quiet among the chaos of laughter and clinking glasses. His men, suited and wild, filled the fancy restaurant with noise and energy. But his mind was elsewhere.

Across the room, a waitress moved gracefully between tables. Young. Joyful. Beautiful. Her smile was so warm it made the cold steel inside his chest flicker with something unfamiliar.

She wasn’t dressed flashy, nor did she wear heavy makeup like the women he’d seen throw themselves at men. She was natural. Real. He couldn’t stop watching her.

For a man who had never been touched, never even held by a woman, something about her stirred everything.

When she finally approached their table, her voice soft, "Is everything alright here?" Chan didn’t hesitate. He pulled out his sleek black card.

“Miss, I’d like to pay for everyone.” His deep voice cut through the table’s noise.

His men laughed and clapped like it was a performance, hyping their boss. But Chan’s eyes didn’t leave hers. He wasn’t trying to show off for them. He just wanted her to notice him.

She gave a polite smile, uninterested in the gesture, and walked away. But then, Chan’s jaw clenched.

Another man — someone from across the room stopped her, flirted, placed his hand on her hip. She giggled, brushing it off playfully, but walked away quickly and returned to Chan’s table with the payment machine.

As she handed it over, Chan’s voice dropped low, serious.

“Was that man bothering you, Miss?”

And for the first time, she looked into his eyes, really looked. And something shifted in both of them.