The morning sunlight poured softly into the suite, brushing the edges of the furniture with gold. I blinked against the brightness, my mind still foggy from sleep, and for a rare moment, I simply breathed. The last two days felt surreal — the playful moments on the yacht, the small confessions in the restaurant, even the way his hand had lingered on my waist when I stumbled — all of it swirling in my mind like an intoxicating haze.
I hadn't realized how tightly I'd been holding myself, how tense I had been, until now. For the first time in weeks, maybe months, I felt calm. Not empty or hopeless. Calm. And the strange, undeniable truth struck me: it was because of him.
I turned slightly and glanced at the other side of the room. He wasn't there, not yet. His side of the bed was empty, neat, untouched. My chest tightened slightly, and I realized I wanted to see him. To hear him. But even before I could fully consider the thought, there was a soft knock on the door.
"Breakfast," came a polite voice.
I sighed and pushed myself off the bed, smoothing my dress and brushing my hair out of my face. I stepped into the corridor, where ML was already standing near the door to the terrace, dressed in a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled just enough to show a hint of his muscular forearms. He looked effortless, commanding, even when he was casual. My heart betrayed me and skipped a beat.
"You're up early," he said, his voice calm, almost teasing.
"I could say the same for you," I replied, keeping my tone neutral, though my pulse had betrayed me long before my lips could.
He tilted his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Sunrise, fresh air, the perfect start. Don't you agree?"
I nodded, pretending not to notice how much I agreed with him. He opened the terrace door for me, and a soft breeze greeted me, carrying the scent of salt and sea. I could hear the gentle waves crashing below, the faint hum of activity at the resort, and in the distance, gulls calling out to one another. It was peaceful, beautiful… and yet, I felt the tension coil tightly in my chest.
We wandered down to the beach, bare feet sinking slightly into the sand. I was so focused on the texture, the rhythm of the waves, that I didn't notice how uneven the path had become.
And then — my foot caught on a rock.
I stumbled forward, instinctively reaching for something, anything, to steady myself. Before panic could rise fully, strong hands wrapped around my waist, steadying me.
"Careful," he murmured, holding me close. His chest was warm beneath my hands. I could feel the firmness of his arms, the calm steadiness of his body. My pulse thundered in my ears.
"I—thank you," I stammered, trying to regain my balance, though I was acutely aware of how close we were. My cheek brushed against his chest, and I could feel his heart beneath my fingers.
His voice was softer than usual, almost vulnerable. "You could have hurt yourself."
I looked up at him, and for the first time, I saw him without the usual steel in his eyes. There was concern, real concern, flickering there. And for a moment, just a moment, I allowed myself to feel safe. Not protected. Not under his control. Safe.
I swallowed, trying to steady my racing heart. "I'm fine," I said softly, though my voice betrayed the tremor I felt.
He didn't say anything, only let go slowly, letting his hand linger near my arm as if reluctant to break the connection.
Later, we found a secluded terrace garden, a small alcove surrounded by tall potted plants and subtle golden lights strung above. The world felt smaller here, intimate, removed from the rest of the resort. I could see him clearly now, the sunlight catching his hair just so, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the intensity in his eyes.
"Why do you look at me like that?" I asked cautiously, not moving from where I stood.
He tilted his head, letting a rare, small smile slip through. "Like what?"
"Like… you know things. Things about me that I haven't told anyone."
His gaze softened, just slightly. He took a step closer, closing the distance but still leaving enough space for choice. "Not everything I know is because of secrets," he said carefully. "Some things… I learn by watching. By paying attention."
I frowned, unsure what that meant. "That doesn't answer why you know everything about me. Or why you care."
He paused, hands in pockets, leaning casually against the terrace railing. "Why do you think I care?"
I opened my mouth, then closed it. I didn't know. The truth was, I didn't want to know. But the tension in the air, the way his eyes held mine, made it impossible not to notice that maybe, just maybe, he did.
Then, almost unexpectedly, he lowered his voice. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Lin. Things I don't tell anyone."
My heart thudded. I wanted to ask, to pry, to demand answers — but there was something in the way he said it, calm yet unyielding, that made me hesitate.
"Like what?" I asked softly.
He leaned slightly forward, just close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating off him. "Like why I can't afford to let anyone hurt you. Not your family, not anyone. And yes… even you."
My pulse spiked. "Me?"
"Yes," he said simply, letting the word hang in the air. His voice was low, steady, and impossible to ignore. "Because you matter. More than you realize."
We stayed there in silence for a long moment, the only sound the distant crashing of the waves. My fingers brushed against his arm accidentally, and we both flinched slightly. His eyes darkened, and for a brief second, I saw the possessive, dangerous side of him peek through.
Then he smiled, small and almost teasing. "Don't worry," he said. "I won't bite."
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't hide the smile tugging at my lips. Something was changing. Something unspoken was moving between us. I realized, with a mixture of fear and longing, that I was starting to fall for him.
Just as I began to let my guard down, the sharp ring of a phone cut through the quiet.
He straightened instantly, his expression hardening. I recognized the shift immediately — the subtle but unmistakable signal that something had gone wrong.
"Excuse me," he said curtly, walking toward the small garden path leading to the resort building.
I wanted to follow. I wanted to ask questions. But something in his stance told me this wasn't the time. I stayed back, silent, watching his broad shoulders move away, tension radiating from him.
And in that moment, I realized — despite the playful moments, the intimate touches, and the growing trust — this man was still dangerous. Not just to me, but to everyone who dared cross him.
Yet… I didn't move. I wanted to watch. I wanted to know. I wanted to be near him, even if it meant walking the edge of danger.
The waves crashed below, the sunlight danced across the terrace, and I felt the pull of something I had tried to deny for months: that I was already falling.
And he… knew it.
"I should be afraid of him. And yet, I wanted nothing more than to stay close, to learn the secrets his eyes refused to reveal."