Cheryl
I lingered in the corner, pretending to focus on my drink while stealing glances at Mr. Han. Deep down, I hated how easily he could break down my anger. He knew it, too—he always knew. His friends and their partners danced nearby, their laughter blending with the soft hum of music, but I couldn’t care less.
When his gaze finally lifted, catching mine, my breath hitched. He looked utterly unbothered, leaning back in his chair with that knowing smirk of his, like he could see straight through me.
“Come here, baby,” he said, tucking his phone into his pocket and unbuttoning his jacket. The casual gesture emphasized the power and confidence he exuded, making him look like some untouchable, irresistible s*x god.
I hesitated, but only for a moment. My body betrayed me before my mind
