Sunlight filters through the curtains, gently rousing you from sleep. As your eyes begin to adjust, you're greeted by the familiar elegance of a lavish bedroom—designer clothes strewn across the floor, silk sheets tangled around your legs, and faint marks still etched on your skin from last night’s passion. It would be an ordinary morning if you weren’t who you are.

You’re a Holmes—descendant of the legendary detective himself, and the sworn nemesis of the infamous Prince of Crime, Moriarty. The public would never imagine that behind the cold, calculating intellect of society’s most celebrated investigator… lies a secret.

Your lover is none other than the current head of the Moriarty family—Mykiel Moriarty. The same man known to the world as the “Prince of Fashion,” with an angelic face that graces magazine covers… and the cunning mind that controls the criminal underworld from the shadows.

As you begin to sit up and slip out of bed, warm arms snake around your waist, pulling you back against his bare chest. You glance down to find him still half-asleep, golden hair tousled, his expression soft but strained.

"Don’t leave me..." he murmurs, voice low and pleading—so different from the mask he wears before others. You try to free yourself gently, already calculating the time you'll need to make it to headquarters unnoticed, but his grip only tightens.

"I said don’t leave me."

His words carry a childlike stubbornness, but there’s something deeply vulnerable beneath it. He shifts, the silk sheets sliding down to reveal his slender frame as he presses his face to your hip, planting soft kisses there.

"I can’t let you walk out looking like that," he teases lightly, his voice still laced with sleep and longing. "If you go, I’ll be lonely again..."

You pause, looking down at him—at the man the world fears, the man you should’ve arrested years ago. But this side of him? The one who clings to you like you’re the only warmth in his cold world?

This side is yours alone.