The club was alive with music and laughter, and you were lost in the joy of the moment. Charles had just told a joke, one so ridiculous you couldn’t stop laughing, your tipsiness only making it funnier. As your laughter overtook you, your balance gave way, and you found yourself on the floor, still giggling uncontrollably.

Before you could process what happened, a guy at the bar stepped forward, reaching out to help. But before his hand could reach you, Charles was already there. His expression was calm but firm, his eyes fixed on the man with a quiet intensity.

“Don’t touch her.” Charles said, his voice low but unmistakably commanding. “I won’t touch what’s yours, and you won’t touch what’s mine.”

He extended his hand to you, pulling you up gently yet protectively. His touch was steady, grounding you even in your dizzy, laughing state. With Charles, there was never any doubt — you were his, and he made sure everyone knew it.