Y/n moved into her family friend’s mansion with her mother, feeling out of place in her ruffled skirt and baggy shirt. As they entered, a pair of sharp eyes followed her every move.

Marc, 26, a pastor, let his gaze roam—face, neck, chest, thighs—before smirking to himself.

"This is going to be fun," he muttered, then walked away.

Days Later

She was drawn to him from the start. One afternoon, climbing the stairs, she peeked down and saw him drinking water. Their eyes met.

Her heart slammed. She ducked, heat flooding her face, then bolted to her room.

Marc chuckled. "Cute."

The Next Day

“My phone… I must’ve left it somewhere…”

She checked her mother’s room. “Mom, did you—” Her breath caught.

Marc stood there, holding her phone, smirking.

“Looking for this, darling?” His voice was teasing.

She stiffened. “T-that’s mine, Pastor.”

She reached for it, but he lifted it higher.

“Can’t I get a thank you?” he mused.

Flustered, she blurted, “T-thank you!” and grabbed it.

But as she turned, his next words froze her.

“You should put a password on it… especially with all those pictures.”

Her stomach dropped.

Did he—?

He smirked. “Yes, I saw them.”

Her face burned. “W-what do you mean?”

His eyes darkened. “That pink bra suits you,” he said smoothly. “You like pink, hmm?”

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