His face was impossibly handsome, yet the smirk tugging at his lips was anything but kind.
It was wicked. Calculated.
Before Emily could process what was happening, Charles pressed down on the gas pedal, and the car shot forward with terrifying speed.
Emily's breath caught in her throat.
Her body tensed, instincts screaming at her to brace herself. Her fingers fumbled with the seatbelt, locking it just in time as the vehicle accelerated to a reckless pace.
The silence between them was deafening, thick with tension she didn't know how to cut through.
Then, his voice came, smooth and deliberate.
"I'm the pervert."
The words crashed over her like a tidal wave.
Every ounce of excitement, every trace of joy she had carried into this moment, vanished in an instant.
Her mind blanked.
Her lips parted, but no words came out.
She wanted to believe she had misheard him.
That this was all some bizarre dream.
Charles, his car, his words… none of it felt real.
Oh god.
She had called him small.
What had she done?
She had worshipped him for years.
Loved him in secret.
And now…
She had humiliated him.
A man's ego was fragile, but a superstar's pride? That was something else entirely.
She had trampled all over his.
Calling him lousy in bed. Mocking his masculinity.
No man would ever forgive that.
Especially not him.
Emily squeezed her eyes shut, her nails digging into her palms as regret clawed through her.
Her father had ruined her mood earlier, and Charles had simply gotten caught in the crossfire.
Timing had never been crueler.
If only she had known it was him—she never would have said those things.
She would have softened her words. Been kind, sweet, delicate.
She would have told him everything she had always wanted to say.
That he was her favorite person.
That his smile had kept her going through the hardest times.
That she had admired him since the moment she laid eyes on his face.
But now?
She had thrown all of that away.
Her breath came in shaky bursts, guilt coiling in her chest.
Should she apologize?
Would it even be enough?
One apology couldn't undo what she had done.
Couldn't erase the sting of her words.
Her hands trembled as she tucked her head between her palms, biting down on her lip to stop the frustration from spilling out.
The air in the car was suffocating.
Charles maneuvered the vehicle with effortless precision, his expression unreadable, his grip steady on the wheel.
Emily cursed herself for noticing how flawlessly he drove, how striking he looked even now.
It wasn't the time for admiration.
It was the time for survival.
She needed to say something.
To break the ice.
She sucked in a breath and forced out a hesitant hum, trying to muster the courage to speak.
Charles didn't react.
He didn't glance at her. Didn't acknowledge her presence.
He was ignoring her.
That only made it worse.
Her chest tightened as she tried again.
"Hi Charles, where are we going?"
Nothing.
Still silence.
Still avoidance.
He had heard her. She was sure of it.
However, he chose not to answer.
Emily swallowed hard, nerves tangling in her stomach.
She had never imagined herself sitting beside him like this.
But she had also never imagined herself angering him like this.
This wasn't how it was supposed to be.
This wasn't how she was supposed to meet him.
And then…
Charles tilted his head toward her.
His deep, enigmatic eyes met hers, locking her in place.
And Emily…
Forgot how to breathe.
"We are heading to a hotel."
His voice was impossibly smooth, calm, devoid of any anger—but the smirk that followed carried an undeniable meaning.
Emily stiffened, instinctively wrapping her arms around her chest as if to shield herself from the weight of his words.
Charles noticed.
From the corner of his eye, he caught the nervous reaction, and his smirk deepened.
Emily's heart lurched.
Her pulse raced wildly, hammering against her ribs with no intention of slowing down.
A hotel.
Charles was taking her to a hotel.
Her breath hitched.
No.
Oh no.
Was he planning to prove her wrong?
That he wasn't what she had accused him of?
That he wasn't small—wasn't lousy in bed?
Heat flooded her cheeks.
She hadn't expected him to be so direct, so unapologetically bold.
Emily knew she had stepped on his pride earlier—there was no denying that.
But had he really taken it so personally?
Did he intend to make her eat her words right this instant?
Her stomach twisted, nerves tangling together into a chaotic mess.
She had no idea what to do.
Apologize? Escape?
Would an apology even be enough?
Would anything be enough?
Emily clenched her hands into fists, forcing herself to breathe.
Whatever this was…Whatever Charles intended, she was walking straight into it.
And there was no turning back.
Seeing this girl's nervous reaction, Charles couldn't help but think she was faking it.
This girl just bombarded him with insults, and now she was acting like a virgin!
No virgin would dare to type those kinds of naughty words to a person whom she has never met.
When he read her words, he honestly felt challenged.
No one ever insulted him like that, nor was it safe to say that no one dared to offend him.
She thought this girl was an easy type, but then why is she acting so clean?
Is she playing hard to get?
Charles studied her, his gaze deep and unwavering, as if trying to read the very core of her thoughts. His sharp eyes lingered, scrutinizing every detail, and Emily felt an unfamiliar heat rising under his intense attention.
She didn't dare to speak.
Her thoughts swirled in disarray, cycling through the emotions she had come to know so well.
Sadness… for the mother she missed beyond words.
Anger… for the father who had shattered her trust and abandoned her when she needed him most.
And excitement… for the man sitting beside her, the superstar who had unknowingly become a part of her life from the moment she first saw his billboard.
Just the thought of Charles had always been enough to bring light to her darkest days.
Now, she was here, sitting beside him in his car, heading toward a hotel.
She was torn.
Should she escape?
Or stay?
The decision sat heavily on her chest, twisting her stomach into knots.
She didn't want to do anything she would regret.
And yet—she had offended him. Badly.
She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, silently pleading for guidance.
She had sent those careless, ruthless messages without knowing who was on the other end.
Guilt gnawed at her insides.
Her fingers twitched, itching to correct her mistake.
Compressing the nervous energy building inside her, she finally found the courage to speak.
"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't know it was you, and I really didn't mean it. I was in a bad mood, and I lashed out. Please—just know that I am sincerely sorry."
Her words hung in the air.
Charles remained silent, his gaze fixed on the road, unreadable.
He had heard her—she was sure of that—but he offered no reply.
The stiff tension between them remained unrelenting.
Emily felt as though she might collapse under the weight of her embarrassment and anxiety.
And then…
The car slowed.
They had arrived.
Charles had chosen The Century Lux Hotel, one of the most prestigious seven-star establishments in the city. Its towering glass facade gleamed under the city lights, radiating wealth and exclusivity. If Emily wasn't mistaken, this hotel belonged to the Adams family—a fitting choice for someone like Charles.
Her nerves clawed at her insides.
She still had no idea what to expect.
Charles had barely acknowledged her, offering no explanation, no reassurance.
He was serious.
And that terrified her.
Run or stay?
The question looped in her mind as she followed his lead, her footsteps hesitant.
Doubts flooded her thoughts, each one heavier than the last.
Was Charles really this kind of man?
Did he often pick up random girls in the dead of night, taking them to high-end hotels without a word?
If people knew, it would be an explosive scandal.
His fans would be devastated.
Emily squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head lightly to clear the thought.
She needed to focus.
Not on what others would think, but on herself.
What should she do?
Follow him?
Run away?
She swallowed hard, the weight of uncertainty pressing against her chest.
If she stayed, would she regret it?
If she ran, would she spend the rest of her life wondering what if?
Emily exhaled shakily, willing herself to think.
This was Charles Adam—the man she had admired from afar for years, the person whose mere existence had brightened her darkest days.
And now, here he was. Right in front of her.
There was no turning back.
Whichever choice she made, she had to own it.
'If I lose my virginity to him, would it be worth it?'
'Of course, YES!'
Emily's thoughts raced, tangled in a storm of emotions. Her mind had already given her an answer before she could even process the question. But then—what about her morals?
"Stop!" Her voice rang out, unexpected even to herself.
Charles halted effortlessly, turning to look at her with a calm yet calculated gaze.
Their eyes met.
Emily's breath hitched. Her heart stuttered, her pulse quickening as if trying to break free from her chest. She wanted to say something—anything—but the words refused to escape her throat.
She was captivated.
The way his piercing, enigmatic eyes locked onto hers. The way his smirk held an unreadable amusement.
Then, his gaze flicked toward the hotel butler standing near the entrance.
The butler moved swiftly, stepping toward her with professionalism in every gesture.
Meanwhile, Charles entered the hotel unbothered, as if the world itself bent to accommodate him.
The staff knew exactly who he was.
As he walked through, they bowed subtly, their movements precise and measured, careful not to make a single mistake. They understood the weight of his presence—a member of one of the city's highest-ranking families.
"This way, ma'am," the butler said politely, gesturing for her to follow.
Emily's gaze shifted back to Charles, now a few steps ahead. His broad back, straight posture, and effortless dominance commanded the room without him needing to utter a word.
Instinctively, her feet moved forward.
She wasn't thinking.
She wasn't sure if she even wanted to think.
Excitement and nerves crashed over her all at once, drowning out rationality.
What was she doing?
What was Charles going to do with her?
People might judge her, call her reckless, naive, or even foolish. But at this moment, Emily found a rare courage she had never possessed before.
For five years, she had admired him, adored him from afar.
And now, here she was standing at the edge of a reality she never thought possible.
She might as well embrace it.
Before she had a chance to let doubt creep in, she arrived at a private room inside a luxurious restaurant on the twenty-fifth floor.
Emily blinked, confused.
She had expected to be led directly to a suite.
Instead, before her was a beautifully arranged table.
An elegant charcuterie board sat at the center, adorned with carefully selected delicacies. Next to it, two glasses of wine gleamed under the soft, golden lights.
She turned her head slightly, finding Charles already seated.
He exuded effortless charisma… an aura that was both commanding and intoxicating, like a prince from an untouchable world.
Emily swallowed hard.
Was this dinner just a formality before something more?
She shook her head lightly, trying to rid herself of wild thoughts.
Tonight felt surreal, as if she had stepped into an entirely different life.
After the butler guided her to her seat, he left smoothly, followed by another staff member who poured wine into both glasses with precision.
Once done, Charles lifted a hand, silently signaling them to exit.
And just like that…
They were alone.
A thick silence settled between them, neither uncomfortable nor entirely calming.
Emily stared at the wine glass before her, her fingers itching to grasp onto anything that might steady her.
Then, Charles leaned back slightly, lifting his own glass.
"Shall we?"
His voice was rich, smooth, and dangerous in the way it made her heart race.
He smirked just after, sipping his drink with effortless grace, his gaze never leaving hers.
Emily's pulse roared in her ears.
She knew—she could still leave.
She could still run if she wanted to.
But was that what she truly wanted?
Never in her life had she imagined being this close to him.
It was all happening too fast.
Too impossible.
Was this a dream?
Or had fate finally decided to reward her after all the pain she had endured?
Emily's thoughts stalled when Charles pushed a black envelope toward her, sliding it forward with the tip of his index finger.
Her stomach tightened.
"What is this?"
Her voice was soft, hesitant, and her cheeks burned with the heat of anticipation.
Her lips parted slightly as if she wanted to say more, but she wasn't sure what to say.
Charles studied her reaction carefully.
Most girls, he thought, were the same.
They wore innocence like a costume, but the truth beneath it was often different.
He had seen it all.
Women who tried to manipulate him, climb into his bed, and chase the status and power attached to his name.
But none had succeeded.
He never allowed them close enough.
And yet…
Tonight felt different.
Before he could answer, Emily suddenly stood, restless.
Her eyes brimmed with uncertainty, her entire body tense.
Her cheeks burned as she gritted her teeth, trying to summon the last of her courage.
She finally spoke, her voice wavering slightly.
"Are you going to…?"
She swallowed, gathering herself.
"Are you going to have s*x with me?"