005

SOPHIA

"What's your take on werewolves?" Dean—as I've come to know him as—asked, his question cutting through the pulsating music of the club.

It was a surprisingly random inquiry to me, especially in a place where the usual conversation starters revolved around drinks, music, or hookups.

My preconceived notions about clubs, fueled by the romance novels I'd read, had led me to expect a more predictable, flirtatious atmosphere. But Dean's question caught me off guard, and I found myself intrigued.

Instead of answering directly, I countered with a question of my own, trying to keep the tone light.

"Why? Are you one?" I asked, intending it as a playful jab. But the smirk that had been playing on Dean's lips faltered for a moment, replaced by a fleeting glint in his eyes that made my eyebrows furrow in curiosity.

"I wish I was," Dean said with a wistful sigh, his tone betraying a deep-seated longing.

Despite the initial nervousness I had felt, Dean's playful demeanor put me at ease, and I sensed that he was more approachable than the others.

"As for my take on werewolves..." I continued. “I think they're fascinating. But I wish they were real. There are so many mysteries surrounding them that I'd love to unravel."

'Like if they make love in their wolf form, or have to turn into a man. If their wolf Cocks are…’

My thoughts were abruptly interrupted by Dean's sudden laughter. For a moment, I wondered if he had somehow overheard my inner thoughts. But as I followed his gaze to Mr. Grumpy, my lips parted in shock.

My eyes widened as I took in the sight of a rather large, awkwardly placed stick protruding from Mr. Grumpy's torso.

'Is that his... I bit back a gasp, swallowing the rest of my thoughts along with the lump that had formed in my throat. The absurdity of the situation was both horrifying and hilarious.

Mr. Grumpy abruptly stood up and stormed out of the club. Dean's laughter ceased as he trailed after him, a mischievous glint in his eye. I suspected that Mr. Grumpy would be hearing about

this incident for a long time.

Seizing the opportunity, I stood up, and to my relief, Octavius didn't intervene. He. seemed lost in thought, his eyes fixed on some distant point. I made my way to the counter and ordered a drink. As I waited to be served, someone slipped into the seat beside me.

I hesitated to glance over, unsure if I was ready to acknowledge the stranger. If he was interested in striking up a conversation, the least he could do was introduce himself.

The wait was short-lived, as the man beside me finally broke the silence.

"Sophia Romani," My eyes widened in alarm, my heart skipping a beat.

Very few people knew my name, or even that I existed.

I slowly turned my gaze to the stranger, and my eyes widened even more in surprise as I found my butler seated on the stool. "Oh no..." I breathed out.

He sat with an air of quiet confidence, his demeanor so refined that one might easily mistake him for my father rather than my butler. Despite being around my grandfather's age, he looked remarkably youthful.

"How did you find me?" I asked, already scanning the room to see if he had brought anyone with him.

"Right here."

He knew that wasn't what I wanted to know, but then again my Butler was one with few words.

"Please— don't call my father," I began saying but he cut me off.

"You have a thirty-minute limit. To say goodbye to your friends and change back to your outfit. Do not make me regret this by exceeding the time limit. And do not make me search for you."

I felt a mix of emotions: relief, gratitude, and a hint of frustration. But before I could process my feelings or respond, he turned his back to me and collected the drink I had ordered.

I guess that would have to do.

I found myself wishing that Dean would appear and join me on the dance floor. His carefree energy was infectious, and I could make good use of my time with him around.

But he was nowhere to be found, same with the taxi driver.

I quickly turned and headed to the bathroom, setting the alarm on my watch as I went. I needed a few minutes to collect myself before returning to the dance floor.

With my bladder screaming for relief, I figured five minutes would be just enough time to take care of myself before getting back to the music.

I was determined to stick to my time limit and avoid an embarrassing exit. I knew better than to test my butler's patience, and I had no intention of finding out what would happen if I did.

I recalled the one time someone had disrespected my father, and spat in his (butler's) face. The next moment, I saw my butler calmly dragging the offender's lifeless body away with an awfully calm and demure expression. It was a sobering reminder that, despite his reserved demeanor, he was not a man to be trifled with.

I pushed open the bathroom door and stepped inside. Assured that my watch was set, I looked up, but my face promptly collided with something hard. "Ow!" I groaned, rubbing my sore forehead.

As I glanced up, I found myself face to back with a familiar figure. I didn't need to see his face to know who it was - the rigid posture and broad shoulders were unmistakable. Mr. Grumpy stood before me, his back still turned, as if oblivious to our collision.

"Stop bumping your body into my head," I said, attempting to sound stern despite the throbbing pain.

He tilted his head slightly, revealing the sharp ridge of his nose. For a moment, his body tensed, but his composure quickly returned.

"I think you mean the other way around," he retorted. "Because your head keeps bumping into my chest."

I bit back my retort, deciding it was pointless to argue with Mr. Grumpy. I had little to gain and didn't want to waste my time. Instead, I pointed out the obvious.

"This is a ladies' bathroom; you shouldn't be here."

"Is it though?" he asked, still not facing me.

I furrowed my brows, somewhat confused.

My gaze swept around the room, my index finger raised to point out the signs, but I halted when I noticed the urinals..

"What is a urinal doing in the ladies' bathroom?" I wondered aloud.

"Rather, what are you doing in the men's bathroom?" Mr. Grumpy countered, his tone dry.

Men's bathroom? That made perfect sense. But instead of apologizing and trying to flee from embarrassment, I attempted to sidestep him and make a beeline for the restroom. However, he blocked my path.

"Get out of the way, I have to pee," I instructed, trying my best to sound firm.

But he acted as if I hadn't spoken at all. I tried to push forward again, but he blocked my path once more.

"Go use another restroom,"

"I can't, l'd pee on myself before I manage to get to the door," I said, my urgency growing.

"Get o—" He started to say but I seized the opportunity, and quickly darted to the side, catching Mr. Grumpy off guard.

I triumphantly raised my index finger, ready to declare "In your face!" But my gaze dropped, and my smirk faltered as I took in the sight of his ripped trousers, where his cock was visibly peaking through.