Askai was halfway through the case study on Organised Crime when Professor Iyer, in her usual clipped tone, announced,

"There will be another case analysis due next Monday. Groups of two. Pick your partners wisely. It will account for twenty percent of your semester grade."

A groan passed through the classroom like a wave, and Askai leaned back in his chair, sighing at the ceiling.

Great.

Another damn assignment. He was about to get crushed under this institutional education system. He would have fret more like a normal college student, but his phone buzzed on the desk.

He glanced down.

Unknown Number

Reach the Regale suite. 13:00 hours. Do not be late.

No name. No sign-off. But it didn't need one.

He recognized the sharp edge of authority in that tone. It was Vance.

His heart jumped in his chest as he stared at the screen that blinked the time.

12:45.

Shit.

He gathered his things, muttered a half-hearted excuse to the professor, and without waiting for her response, he slipped out. She was too busy pairing off students into passive-aggressive duos to stop him anyway.

Outside, it was hot. The sun was glaring in the sky. The air was thick, humid, and almost suffocating. This was not the best day to be outdoors. But he ran.

The Regale suites were in the private residential quadrant next to the Finance Block, easily half a mile from where his class was. By the time he reached the entrance, his white cotton shirt was plastered to his back with sweat, and his jeans clung to him. His breath came in short, sharp gasps.

He hesitated a moment outside the glass door. Lifted a hand to knock or ring.

The door slid open before he could. Cool air rushed out in a welcoming gasp, and he stepped inside the opulent interior of the room.

And then, as if summoned, Vance appeared.

He stood by the floor-to-ceiling window in the main lounge, hands tucked into his pockets, dressed like he was expecting a board meeting—not a guest. Slate gray shirt, sleeves rolled neatly, black trousers, and a watch that cost more than Askai's tuition. 

The late afternoon sun poured in behind him, bathing his outline in amber. That hard, disciplined frame radiated heat, warmth—life. And for the first time, Askai realized how breathtaking Vance looked when stripped of his storms.

He wasn't barking orders. He wasn't playing the cold, untouchable villain who handed out punishment like a religion. He was simply standing there—lost in thought, staring into a horizon only he seemed to recognize.

And in that fleeting, stolen moment… he looked human. Achingly human. Askai felt his heart stutter in his chest—an unwelcome, disloyal jolt of emotion. A rogue warmth unfurled inside him, softening places he'd sealed off long ago. For a breath—maybe even two—Askai forgot what Vance could do with a single order.

Just like that…Vance Regale- ruthless, untouchable—stole Askai's breath.

But then his gaze flicked toward Askai.

"You're late."

His voice wasn't loud, but it landed like a slap, gratefully breaking the trance that was slowly luring Askai toward his doom. 

Vance wasn't just annoyed. He was glaring at him, much like before.

Askai opened his mouth to argue, but he followed Vance's eyes—and realized what he was looking at.

His white shirt had gone nearly transparent from the sweat. It clung to his chest, stuck to his back. He suddenly felt very aware of every inch of his skin beneath the fabric. And Askai's brain, unfortunately, remembered everything about that night—Vance's weight, his mouth, the scrape of fingers down his neck. Things he hadn't been fully sober to understand back then. But he was now.

His skin flushed, heat blooming up his throat.

"I checked the time," he said, carefully choosing his words. "It's barely a minute past one. The walk from the law building is half a mile. In this heat... I ran but.."

He kept his voice even. Didn't want to sound defensive. Didn't want to sound like he was making excuses. Words had to be placed like stepping stones here—one misstep and he knew Vance would shove him into some damn Lake to drown. He looked like it.

Vance didn't respond. His expression didn't change, but the tension in the room grew thicker. Askai could feel it humming beneath the surface, but Vance waited. Waiting for him to say something.

"I didn't have anything to do with the drink spiking," Askai explained, more quietly now, assuming this was the cause of Vance's anger. "If that's what this is about." He gestured toward the room.

That earned a shift.

Vance's eyes narrowed before he waved a hand like swatting away a thought. "Ruby's been on my case about that all week. Says you had nothing to do with it."

Ruby.

Askai guessed that must've been the redhead who had defended him that day. She seemed like she didn't belong to their flock. But the name sure rang some very alarming bells. But he had far greater concerns here.

He gave a short nod. "Then... we're good?" He meant it as a question. A peace offering. But the words landed wrong somehow.

Vance blinked once.

And then everything exploded.