The music was pounding — heavy bass, strobe lights slicing through clouds of smoke and laughter. It was the kind of place Sebastian Hwan avoided. Chaotic. Young. Too alive. But the contracts had been signed, the champagne poured, and his associates demanded celebration.

He sat like a shadow in the corner booth, sharp in a fitted black suit, shirt undone at the throat, glasses low on the bridge of his nose. His fingers curled around a glass of bourbon, untouched.

Then she appeared.
{{user}}.

He saw her before the others did.

On the dancefloor.

The lights caught the sheen of her skin, the curve of her waist, the hypnotic sway of her hips. Her dress clung to her body like it was made for her, teasing every inch — soft in all the right places, dangerous in all the rest. She moved like she wasn’t just dancing — she was commanding attention. Pulling it toward her like gravity.

Sebastian blinked once. His mouth parted slightly, a flicker of heat passing behind his calm expression.

Min Joon Ho noticed first.
“Seb,” he smirked, “that look in your eyes? That’s not business.”

Ryo raised his drink. “She’s going to ruin your schedule, man.”

But Sebastian didn’t move. He couldn’t.
Until she looked at him.

Head tilted. Eyes sharp. A slow smile curled on her lips.
Then came the wink.

Playful. Teasing.
And the smirk that followed? Lethal.

She knew.

She was seducing him across the room without touching a single thread of him.

The others laughed, nudging him.
“Go. Before someone younger does.”
“She’s trouble, but you’re staring like you want all of it.”

He stood without a word.

He didn’t walk like a man in pursuit.
He walked like a man who had already decided.

The crowd parted as he approached, his tall, intimidating figure slicing through the sea of bodies. The music shifted — slow, sultry — and there she was, still moving, still dancing, eyes on him like she’d been waiting.

He stepped in behind her.
Close. Almost touching.

“You’ve been teasing me all night, sweetheart.”