“It’s the men’s room,” he says, pointing at the sign on the door.I freeze, staring at him. Men’s room. My brain refusing to process.“You… you are joking,” I manage.His smirk only widens, like he’s enjoying my discomfort. “Not joking, sweetheart. Looks like you got the wrong door.”I take a step back, heart thudding. Everything about him—tall, dark, sharp eyes, that infuriating smirk is unsettling, yet… I can’t look away.“Why… why are you here?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.He leans lazily against the sink, sleeves rolled, one eyebrow raised. “Why do you think?” His voice is low, smooth, velvety. A little dangerous.I glare.“Besides, I should be asking you that,” he adds.Heat rises to my cheeks, and I look away, pretending to fix my hair, though I can feel him watching me. Every instinct tells me to run—but something about him… something about this encounter… makes me want to stay.I clear my throat, finally finding words. “You should leave.”“And if I don’t?” he asks,
Last Updated : 2026-04-01 Read more