Anything You Want (English)

Walls Too Close, Hearts Too Far

"We're really staying here?" Samantha asked as she stepped into the tiny apartment, eyes scanning the cramped space. A single bed, a small desk pushed against the wall, and a sink beside a modest kitchen setup—it barely looked livable for one person, let alone two.

Her bathroom was bigger than this.

Her stomach tightened at the thought. Was Drake serious? This was supposed to be their home?

"Is there a problem?" Drake asked, his tone unreadable as he watched her reaction.

"Are you sure you want me to live here?" she asked cautiously, turning to face him.

"What do you think?" he shot back, stepping further inside, giving her no room to argue. She had no choice but to follow.

"Drake, this place is way too small for the both of us," she protested, crossing her arms. "We would be so much better off at the mansion. At least there, we won’t be stepping on each other just to move around. I’ll call Grandpa—"

She barely lifted her phone when Drake snatched it from her fingers.

"Hey!" she gasped, snapping her head up at him in disbelief. "Drake—!"

"Where do you ever see newlyweds moving in with their grandfather?" he countered smoothly, yet his grip on her phone was firm. "You wanted to marry me, didn’t you? Then you live where I live. I have zero interest in that mansion—it makes my stomach turn."

He casually placed her phone on the table, dismissing the entire argument without a second thought.

"But did you ever stop to think if I can even handle living here?" she shot back, frustration bleeding into her voice. "I've never lived anywhere else before, and what if I can’t sleep? What if—"

Her words died in her throat as Drake suddenly shut the bathroom door—sharp, abrupt, deliberate.

A clear message: He wasn’t interested in hearing her complaints.

Samantha let out a slow, exasperated sigh. That was it, then. No mansion. No negotiation.

Then—

A knock at the door made her whip around. With Drake behind a closed door, she had no choice but to answer it herself.

"Grandpa!" Samantha’s entire demeanor shifted the moment she saw the familiar face outside. A brilliant smile spread across her lips as she hurried to embrace him, her arms wrapping around him tightly. "You’re here!"

Standing beside Leandro was Assistant Lee, looking as composed as ever.

"Did someone arrive?" Drake’s voice drifted from behind her. She turned just as he emerged from the bathroom, now wearing a plain T-shirt and jogging pants. His gaze flickered toward their visitors, but his face remained impassive. "Oh. It’s you."

"This place is way too small for my granddaughter," Leandro remarked, stepping inside, his eyes scanning the room with mild disapproval.

"You really do think alike," Drake muttered, shaking his head slightly.

"What exactly are you doing?" Drake asked, eyeing Assistant Lee as he moved around the room, inspecting every corner like a detective on a mission.

Lee ran a finger across a surface, checking for dust, then shifted his attention to the window, peering outside as if the view might reveal some hidden danger.

"I’m making sure this place is safe for Sam," he answered, straightening up to face Drake. His tone was calm, but there was an unmistakable disapproval lurking beneath it. "And honestly? You two should be living in the mansion. This place doesn’t sit right with me."

Drake exhaled sharply, irritation flickering across his features. Here we go again.

"There’s nothing in our agreement that says you get to meddle in where I live," he said coolly, crossing his arms. "You asked me to marry your princess. That means she stays where I stay. That’s not up for discussion."

"We’re only thinking about Samantha’s safety," Leandro interjected, his voice measured but firm.

Drake let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. "Then maybe you should’ve just kept her locked up in that mansion of yours, away from the world. Who even decided to drag me into this mess in the first place?"

Samantha glanced at her grandfather, sensing the brewing tension. She reached for his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"It’s okay, Grandpa. I’ll be fine here," she said gently, her voice warm despite the unease lingering in the air. "Besides, it’s something new for me."

Leandro’s brow furrowed, concern etched into his expression. "Are you sure?"

"Of course! Nothing bad is going to happen. I’m with Drake, aren’t I?" She shot her husband a look, playfully nudging the conversation away from the heavy atmosphere. "He doesn’t look like the type, but I know he’ll keep an eye on me."

Drake’s gaze darkened. "And what’s that supposed to mean?"

Samantha smiled, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "It means you’re a good guy, and I trust you. Why else would I marry you?"

Drake clenched his jaw, his annoyance slipping through the cracks. That smile again.

It was frustrating how easily she could disarm him, how that simple expression softened the irritation brewing in his chest. Even when he was being impossible—even when he wanted to push her away—she still looked at him like that. Like she believed in him.

Like he wasn’t the villain in her story.

"If I can’t convince you to come back to the mansion, then I won’t force it," Leandro sighed, relenting. "But remember, the doors will always be open for both of you."

"Thank you, Grandpa," Samantha said sincerely, resting her head against his shoulder.

Leandro smiled, gently patting her head.

Drake watched them in silence. The closeness between them was undeniable—a bond built on warmth and trust.

And for some reason, that made him uneasy.