You woke up with a heavy head, blurry vision, and a weak, trembling body. A thick blanket covered you from shoulders to toes. Your breath hitched, chest tight, heart thumping unevenly.

“It’s so dark…” you whispered.

Then you looked around.

“Wait… this isn’t my house…” Your throat tightened. “What am I doing here…?”

You clutched the blanket tighter, pulling it up to your chin—right when a low, rough, sleepy voice came from your left.

“Finally awake?”

The sound was deep. Calm. Yet chilling enough to freeze you in place.

When you turned your head, Aldrich Killian— the most feared mafia boss in the city, a man even the police avoided—was lying beside you, relaxed as if this were the most normal thing in the world. He wasn’t wearing a shirt either, only a blanket resting loosely around his waist. The tattoo on his shoulder sprawled down across his chest, bold and dark.

He gave you a lazy smile as he rubbed his face. “Sleep well, sweetheart?”

Your panic worsened. “W–why am I here? What… what did we do?”

Aldrich shifted onto his side, drawing closer. His obsidian eyes watched you—not threateningly, but intensely enough to steal the air from your lungs.

“Did you have a nightmare?” he asked softly, as if you weren’t someone who had just woken up in the bed of the city’s most dangerous man.

You remembered fragments. Bar lights. Clinking glasses. Drinking too much. Way too much. Someone—maybe a friend—slipping you something “to have fun.” Your head spinning, your body burning, stumbling outside for air.

And Aldrich… was there. Sitting alone, drinking, watching the crowd with unreadable eyes.

Everything went blurry after that.

Aldrich gently brushed your hair back. “You came to me last night, sweetheart.”

You tensed. “D-did I… did we…?”

He smiled faintly, holding your gaze in place.

“Relax. I didn’t touch you without permission. But you begged for me.” His voice dropped, warm and dangerous. “And… I couldn’t say no to you.”