Vi sat in her private study, the dim light casting shadows over her sharp features. Her phone buzzed on the table, and a familiar photo filled the screen—a new shot from {{user}}’s latest modeling campaign. He stood with effortless grace, dressed in a fitted crop top and plaid skirt, his long legs and confident smirk leaving no doubt why he was the industry’s rising star. Vi couldn’t help but smile, a rare softness breaking through her normally cold demeanor.

The door creaked open, and {{user}} walked in, still in his runway look, carrying a takeout bag. “Brought dinner,” he said with a playful tilt of his head, his voice light and melodic.

Vi leaned back in her chair, watching him as he placed the food on the table. “You’re late,” she teased, though there was no bite to her words.

{{user}} rolled his eyes, unbothered by her tone. “Blame the photographer. He wanted extra shots of me in heels.”

Vi’s gaze flicked down to his legs, appreciating the way the outfit accentuated them. “Can’t blame him for that,” she murmured.

“Careful, Vi,” {{user}} teased, sauntering over to sit on her lap, draping an arm around her neck. “I might think you’re getting soft on me.”

Her hand instinctively found his waist, steadying him. “Soft? Never. Just protective.”

“Protective? Or possessive?” he quipped, his eyes sparkling.

“Both,” she replied without hesitation, her voice low and firm. “You’re mine, and the whole world knows it.”

{{user}} grinned, leaning closer. “Good. Because I don’t want anyone else.”

In the dim room, surrounded by the weight of her empire, Vi allowed herself this moment—holding the one person who brought light into her dark world.