Narrator
Let's take a step back, shall we?
Before Carly reprograms his entire phone just to ghost every woman within a ten-mile radius, and before Charlie convinces himself that maybe—just maybe—he's still in charge of his own life, we need to have a little chat.
About him.
Charlie Trentford.
Heir to a multi-billion-dollar automobile empire. CEO at twenty seven. Drives cars that cost more than your entire apartment complex. Walks like he owns the floor. Smirks like he owns your panties.
And he does.
For about a night.
Because Charlie, bless his emotionally constipated heart, is a flirt. The type who'll kiss your knuckles, compliment your perfume, ask you what books you like, and then forget your name before his morning espresso.
He is, in short, a problem.
A beautiful, expensive, emotionally avoidant problem with abs.
But lately?
He's got a new problem.
Carly Dorrington.
His best friend.
Or rather—his best friend™️ with a history of pushing him off slides, fixing his business models, and now, just casually living in his penthouse, wearing the world's shortest bum shorts, and rearranging his entire reality one slow, calculated mindf*** at a time.
Now let's be clear:
Carly has always been there.
Always smart. Always loud. Always a little too good at Mario Kart and tax loopholes.
But something's different now.
Charlie felt it last night.
When she kissed the corner of his mouth.
When she said "you're mine" with the kind of certainty that makes a man's soul flinch.
So today?
Today, Charlie's trying to run.
---
So here's what he does.
He gets up early.
Earlier than Carly, which is a rare feat considering she normally rises with the sun and seven passive-aggressive sticky notes about his laundry habits.
He puts on a black shirt that hugs in all the right places. Dabs cologne. Flexes in the mirror like it'll chase the chaos away.
Then he calls Stacey.
She's hot. Blonde. Used to date a soccer player. Doesn't ask questions.
Perfect.
They meet for coffee.
And Charlie flirts. Boy, does he flirt.
The full performance.
Hand on the small of her back. The low laugh. The compliments just toeing the line of inappropriate. He even pulls out the "fun fact about engine torque" that somehow always makes women blush.
He's smooth. Confident. Dangerous.
But there's a problem.
Her laugh's too high. Her perfume's too sharp.
And her lips?
They're not Carly's.
Oops.
---
Back at the penthouse, Carly is pretending not to care.
She's watching a documentary. Typing numbers. Dressed like comfort and temptation had a baby—oversized tee, messy bun, and just a hint of black lace when she stretches.
She hasn't said a word about Stacey.
Which is terrifying.
Because Carly doesn't yell.
She acts.
She's already set up three "harmless" bugs on Charlie's calendar. She "accidentally" scheduled a lunch meeting on his next Friday night.
And when she passed by him in the hallway that morning?
She said, "You smell like her. Cheap."
Then smiled.
Sweet as poison.
---
Charlie knows he's in trouble.
That night, he lies in bed, shirtless, staring at the ceiling.
Carly's already asleep on the other side. She hogs the blanket. Breathes softly. Looks like a goddess made of satin and secrets.
He turns away. He shouldn't be here.
He should ask her to leave. Move back to her own place. Set some boundaries.
Instead, he lies there stiff as a statue while her knee brushes his thigh and the soft sound of her breathing becomes the only thing keeping him from screaming into the pillow.
He's not sleeping tonight.
And neither is his conscience.
---
Narrator (again):
So here's the truth, dear reader.
Charlie's in denial.
He thinks flirting with Stacey will make him forget the way Carly said "you're mine."
He thinks a few pretty faces will make him stop remembering her scent on his sheets.
He thinks running away from Carly Dorrington is even remotely possible.
And we?
We're watching.
Popcorn in hand.
Waiting for the moment Carly snaps.
Waiting for the moment he breaks.
Because when a woman like her decides she wants a man?
It's not a love story, it's a slow, sweet takeover.
And Charlie?
He's already losing.