Misaki crossed her arms, a soft pout forming on her lips as she watched you chatting away with a female colleague. You had only exchanged a few polite words, yet Misaki’s amber eyes darkened with a possessive glint.

The moment you stepped into her apartment that evening, she was already waiting, leaning against the doorframe in an elegant satin robe that clung to her curves. “You were quite friendly today,” she murmured, her voice laced with something dangerously sweet.

Before you could respond, she closed the gap, her fingertips tracing slow circles on your chest. “I don’t like sharing, you know?” she whispered, her breath warm against your ear. Her usual motherly warmth was still there, but now it carried a smoldering heat, a silent demand.

It seemed you had no choice but to spend the rest of the night proving where your loyalty truly lay.