Standing there, casual as ever, as if nothing had happened. As if Eun-jae hadn't just been wrestling with the unknown, gasping for air like a dying fish.
Eun-jae's brows furrowed, his grip on his gun tightening before he lowered it slightly, his mind still reeling.
"Caesar?!" His voice shot up an octave, a mix of disbelief and sheer frustration.
And what did this blond bastard do?
Did he ask if Eun-jae was okay? Did he look even the slightest bit concerned?
No.
Instead—
Caesar tilted his head, lazily scanning Eun-jae from head to toe, his usual annoyingly smug expression plastered across his face.
Then, with a slow smirk curling onto his lips, he chuckled.
"What are you doing?" His voice was silky smooth, teasing, dripping with amusement.
Then he added, casually—
"So pervy."
PERVY?!
Eun-jae's eye twitched.
Oh, OH, THIS MOTHERF—
His face burned, not from embarrassment, but from sheer fury.
What part of this situation looked pervy to him?! What part of standing barefoot in the middle of a dimly lit room, gun still in hand, looking like a deranged mess, screamed 'PERVY'?!
Before he could snap, before he could cuss him out in every language he knew, before he could demand where the hell he had been all night—
Click.
The bathroom door swung open.
And out stepped—
A woman.
A very, very, very naked woman.
Eun-jae froze.
His brain lagged.
Like, full system failure.
What.
The.
FUCK.
She was tall, curvy, dripping wet from the shower.
Long, curly dark hair clung to her tan skin, cascading down her shoulders and back.
Her breasts— big, round, soft-looking— were on full display, her dusky brown nipples slightly hardened from the cool air.
Her hips were wide, her thighs thick, her waist so cinched that she looked like a walking hourglass.
And the worst part?
She wasn't even looking at him.
Not even a glance.
Her big, sultry brown eyes were locked entirely on Caesar, like he was the only person in the room.
Her lips curled into a smirk, her voice smooth, low, sultry as she purred—
"Oh, Caesar… You have arr—"
She didn't even get to finish her sentence before Caesar grabbed her, hoisting her up like she weighed absolutely nothing.
She let out a startled giggle, but it quickly morphed into something else.
Something breathy.
Something borderline indecent.
And then—
SLAM.
The bathroom door shut.
And Eun-jae?
Still frozen.
His brain was a blank slate.
His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
Nothing came out.
Because what the actual fuck just happened?!
Seconds later, soft giggles turned into—
Moans.
Loud. Obnoxious.
Wet.
A muscle in Eun-jae's jaw ticked.
He was still standing there, in the middle of the room, like an absolute idiot.
For what?
To be subjected to this?
THIS?!
He finally, finally moved, storming over to the bags that Caesar had dropped near the door.
If this bastard was going to act like he didn't exist, then fine.
But no way in hell was he just going to stand here listening to this real-life adult film playing out in the bathroom.
"Now it's a tourist."
His voice was flat, dripping in sarcasm, as he grabbed the bag and flopped onto the bed, shaking it.
Whatever was inside was heavy.
He huffed, narrowing his eyes.
"Hmm. What is this?"
His nose twitched.
The scent was strong.
Overpowering.
Thick. Musk-like.
And not Caesar's.
His lips curled.
So that woman—she was an alpha.
Which meant…
This wasn't for Caesar.
It was for her.
Eun-jae rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he unzipped the bag, his mood absolutely ruined.
Of course.
Of course, this man didn't just bring back a woman—he brought back a dominant one.
Because apparently, regular women weren't enough for him.
Fucking typical.
And now?
Now Eun-jae was stuck here, listening to the absolute disaster happening in that bathroom.
He groaned, flopping onto the bed dramatically, muttering under his breath—
"God, I fucking hate this place."
Two Days Later...
Eun-jae's fingers tapped against the keyboard, his eyes barely registering the words on the screen. His focus was shot to hell, his thoughts tangled in a mess of irritation, disbelief, and—most annoyingly—curiosity.
Because, for the past forty-eight hours, a certain somebody had been lingering around like she belonged here.
Ijeoma.
The stunning, gorgeous, frustratingly perfect Nigerian woman who had sauntered into their space two nights ago, completely naked, like a damn goddess stepping out of the ocean.
And now?
She was still here.
Eun-jae huffed loudly, slouching further into his seat as he aggressively jabbed at his laptop, as if typing harder would somehow erase the irritation bubbling in his chest.
Click. Click. Click.
But no matter how much he pretended to work, his mind kept circling back to the same question:
Why the hell is she still here?
Caesar had made it painfully clear that he didn't do attachments.
He didn't do repeats.
Hell, the man had all but paraded around his rules like they were gospel:
"I never sleep with someone more than once."
"I don't do relationships."
"I get bored easily."
Blah, blah, blah.
Eun-jae rolled his eyes so hard he nearly gave himself a headache.
Because if all that were true, then why, for the love of all things holy, was Ijeoma still walking around like she owned the damn place?
Not that he was watching.
Or paying attention.
Or keeping track.
Nope.
He was not bothered.
Not even a little bit.
…Okay, maybe a tiny bit.
Just a smidge.
And maybe—just maybe—he had noticed things.
Like the way Caesar and Ijeoma talked in low voices, leaning in like they were sharing some kind of secret.
Or the way they laughed together, easy and familiar, like they knew each other better than a simple one-night stand should allow.
Or how Ijeoma had casually thrown her legs over Caesar's lap while lounging on the bed last night, her fingers lazily tracing patterns on his forearm.
Ugh.
Eun-jae glared at his screen, scowling so hard he could've set the laptop on fire with sheer willpower.
Because what the hell was this?
Hadn't Caesar been the one to say he never got attached?
That he didn't do clingy lovers?
That he didn't even bother learning people's names half the time?
So why was Ijeoma here, two days later, still looking like she belonged here more than he did?
Eun-jae clicked his tongue, his brows furrowing deeper.
And worst of all—worst of all—
She was exactly the type of woman he would date.
Like, exactly.
Tall, curvy, self-assured. Confident as hell.
The kind of woman who could command a room without even trying, who knew her worth and didn't take shit from anyone.
And here she was, entertaining Caesar of all people.
Eun-jae groaned, slumping further into his chair, his head thudding against the backrest as he let out a long, suffering sigh.
Because, of course.
Of course the universe would put a woman who was exactly his type right in front of him—
And then make her completely unavailable.
Just his luck.
He drummed his fingers against the desk, lips pursed, eyes flicking toward the hallway where he knew Caesar and Ijeoma were.
The laughter. The quiet conversation. The way Caesar seemed different around her.
Not exactly soft—Caesar wasn't the type to be soft—but… comfortable.
And that was weird.
Because Caesar wasn't the kind of man who let people stick around.
But Ijeoma?
She was still here.
And that bothered him.
Not that he cared.
Not that he was thinking about it.
Eun-jae exhaled through his nose, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.
"Ugh… she's totally my type."
The thought slipped in before he could stop it.
His face twisted, like he had just bitten into something sour.
Because—ugh.
Absolutely not.
He was not thinking about that.
He was not going to entertain that ridiculous idea.
And he was definitely not jealous.
Nope.
Not at all.
…
He hated this.
Evening Approaches…
The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in deep shades of indigo and violet, but Eun-jae barely noticed. He was too immersed in his book, his fingers curled loosely around the edges of the worn pages, eyes scanning the words with the kind of intensity that only came when he found a truly gripping fantasy novel.
This was his peace.
His escape.
A moment where he didn't have to think about certain people and their questionable choices.
But, of course, peace wasn't something he was allowed to have for long.
Because, suddenly, there she was.
Ijeoma.
Wearing Caesar's oversized shirt, which practically swallowed her figure, hanging off her body in a way that made it very clear she wasn't wearing anything underneath.
And the worst part?
She knew it.
She knew exactly what she was doing as she sauntered over, settling herself on Caesar's bed like she belonged there—because, at this point, she practically did.
Eun-jae didn't even bother looking up at first.
But he could feel her eyes on him.
Watching.
Smirking.
Like she was playing a game only she knew the rules to.
He turned a page, pretending like he didn't notice.
"What are you reading?" she asked, her voice smooth, teasing, like she was waiting for an opening.
Eun-jae sighed quietly, finally glancing up at her.
"Just some fantasy novel," he said, deliberately vague.
Her smirk widened.
"Hmm... you're into those?"
There was a lilt of amusement in her tone, like she had just learned something new about him and was tucking it away for later use.
Eun-jae shrugged, nonchalant.
"Yeah, kinda. It's pretty fun."
He returned his attention to his book, fully prepared to ignore her.
But Ijeoma?
She wasn't the type to be ignored.
She continued watching him, her dark brown eyes filled with curiosity and mischief, like she was debating something.
Eun-jae could feel it.
That unspoken challenge.
And then—
"Want me to lend it to you?" he offered, hoping it would make her go away.
Instead, she let out a short, amused breath, her lips curving into something too knowing, too smug.
And then she leaned in.
Closer than she needed to.
Close enough that Eun-jae could **smell her perfume—**warm, spicy, with just a hint of something sweet.
"Pfft..." She let out a soft, breathy laugh. "You know, women like me tend to be more interested in people who don't have interest in them."
Her fingers traced lightly against the back of his hand.
A slow, deliberate touch.
Not enough to startle him—just enough to make her point.
"It kinda turns me on."
Eun-jae's brain short-circuited.
Excuse me???
What kind of femme fatale bullshit was this?!
He snapped his book shut with a loud thud, his lips parting in sheer disbelief.
Was she—
Was she flirting with him??
In Caesar's shirt???
On Caesar's bed???
While still reeking of Caesar's pheromones???
What in the actual hell—
Before he could even process a response, the door swung open, and in walked the devil himself.
Caesar.
Looking as calm and unbothered as ever, like he hadn't just walked into something lowkey insane.
Ijeoma, completely unfazed, straightened up, turning to him with a pleased little smile.
"Oh, you're back."
And just like that—
Whatever game she had been playing with Eun-jae?
Over.
Because suddenly, she wasn't looking at him anymore.
She wasn't smirking at him anymore.
She wasn't touching him anymore.
Instead, she was all over Caesar.
The moment he stepped forward, she leaned into his embrace, giggling as he pressed a kiss to her cheek, his hands casually roaming her body like they had done this a million times before.
Eun-jae watched as her laughter melted into quiet moans, her fingers curling into Caesar's shirt, her voice dipping into something softer, sweeter.
His eye twitched.
Was this what he had to deal with now?
This lovefest?
Right in front of his face??
With the same woman who had just—literally five seconds ago—been teasing him like she had nothing better to do??
Eun-jae rolled his eyes so hard, he nearly saw the back of his skull.
He let out an exaggerated sigh, grabbed his book, and flopped back onto his pillow.
"Oh, great. Here we go again," he thought, flipping to a random page.
Because at this point?
This was just routine.
And honestly?
He was so over it.
Eun-jae was fully immersed in his book, eyes scanning the pages with an almost exaggerated level of focus, deliberately ignoring the noises from the other side of the room. He wasn't about to get roped into whatever those two were doing. Absolutely not. He wasn't some hormonal teenager who got flustered at the first sign of intimacy.
But then, Caesar's voice cut through the air like a blade, smooth yet edged with amusement.
"Why don't you come and join us?"
Eun-jae stiffened. His fingers clenched around the edges of the book, and his jaw locked as he processed the absurdity of what he had just heard. Slowly, as if ensuring his hearing hadn't deceived him, he lifted his gaze from the pages. His eyes met Caesar's, sharp and assessing, the other man's expression unreadable except for that ever-present smirk that made Eun-jae want to both punch and—never mind.
"What do you say, Ijeoma?" Caesar prompted lazily, his voice dripping with amusement.
Ijeoma, who was practically draped over Caesar's lap like she was made to be there, turned to Eun-jae with a smirk that was far too confident for his liking.
"I don't mind having a threesome."
Eun-jae blinked.
Then blinked again.
'Excuse me?'