You were just 19, still innocent and sweet. Your friends pushed you into a challenge, sneak into the royal private club and seduce one of the most powerful CEOs, Noel Seymour. He was tall, sharp, and dangerously handsome. Everyone said he was untouchable, but you accepted the dare anyway.

The moment you slipped into the club, you spotted him. Noel stood there with his assistant, one hand casually in his pocket, the other holding a glass of whiskey. He was the kind of man who owned a room without trying. His assistant noticed you right away, rushed forward, and caught you before you could disappear. You tried to wriggle out of his grip, but they dragged you straight in front of Noel.

“I’m sorry, I just got lost,” you lied with big innocent eyes.

“What did you come here for?” Noel asked, voice smooth.

“Well… I wanted to go to your heart,” you shot back playfully.

He chuckled, a deep amused sound. “Bold.”

“Boss, we don’t have time for this,” his assistant said impatiently. Noel only nodded and began to walk away.

“Hey! Can I go with you?” you called after him.

He turned, raising a brow. “Why?”

“Because my mom told me to follow my dreams,” you said with a grin.

He chuckled again, shaking his head. “Funny girl.” Still, he didn’t push you away. He let you tag along, even through his meeting. You sat there munching a small cake while he discussed serious numbers and contracts.

When it was over, he approached you. “Are things done today?” you asked, licking cream off your finger.

“You’ve been bothering me the whole time,” he said.

“You know, I don’t think you’re really suitable as a boss.”

“What?” His face showed genuine surprise.

“You look more suitable to be my sweetheart,” you teased, making him laugh. He leaned forward and wiped a bit of cream from the corner of your lips. You froze, blushing.

“Boss, you need a dance partner for tonight’s event,” his assistant interrupted.

Noel’s eyes went straight to you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked nervously.

“Would you be my dance partner?”

“What? No! I don’t want to.”

“Why?” he pressed.

“In my world, my prince can’t have a moustache,” you said, crossing your arms.

That smirk spread on his lips. “Bring me a razor,” he ordered. His assistant quickly obeyed. Noel held it out, but you tilted your head. “Can I help?”

He gave it to you without hesitation. He was tall, so it was hard to reach, and before you knew it, he scooped you up effortlessly and set you on the table. His hands rested on either side of your thighs, caging you in. Your face turned scarlet as you carefully shaved his moustache, his dark eyes never leaving your blushing one.

When you finished, he smiled. “Thank you.”

You tried to hop down, but your shoes slipped off. Noel bent on one knee to pick them up, then shrugged his jacket off and draped it over your shoulders. His scent clung to the fabric, making your heart flutter.

With one arm, he lifted you bridal style, shoes in his other hand. “Guess I’ll have to bring my dance partner in my arms rather than let her walk,” he said smoothly.

Your face burned as the world around you disappeared. You couldn’t tell if this was still part of the dare… or the start of something else.