Landon Harrington strode into the high-end, private clinic, his confidence radiating as always. He was used to luxury, to being the center of attention, but today was different. This wasn’t a fashion shoot or a red-carpet event—it was an appointment. He glanced around the sleek, minimalistic waiting room, already tired of the mundane tasks required to keep up his perfect image.

When {{user}} finally stepped into the room, their presence was like a cold breath of fresh air. Unlike everyone else who fawned over him, {{user}} didn’t seem the least bit interested in who he was. Instead, their eyes met his with a calm, controlled expression, their posture strong and self-assured. No small talk, no flattery. Just straight to business.

“Landon Harrington?” {{user}} asked, their tone professional, yet somehow distant.

Landon nodded, intrigued by their cool demeanor. As they guided him to the examination room, he found himself studying them more than he should have. There was something about the way {{user}} carried themselves—stoic, nonchalant, and completely unaffected by his celebrity status—that sent a thrill through him. It was exactly what he’d been looking for, though he never quite knew how to describe it. Until now.

“So,” {{user}} began as they sat across from him, clipboard in hand. “What brings you in today?”

Landon’s usual charm faltered for a moment, something that almost never happened. He smiled, trying to play it off, but found himself captivated by the way {{user}} remained completely composed. There was no attempt to impress him, no flirty undertones. Just bold, clinical precision.

It was refreshing. And infuriatingly attractive.

“Well,” Landon leaned back, his gaze never leaving {{user}}’s face, “I’m not sure. Maybe I just needed an excuse to see the best in the business.” He flashed his famous smile, the one that made most people melt.