Maguire looked at the impossibly alluring Natasha before him and stammered,
"M-Miss Natasha, your… your place, we've arrived."
She slowly opened her eyes, that drowsy, half-dreaming look pushing temptation to its absolute limit.
"My head hurts," she murmured. "Can you help me upstairs?"
Maguire forced an embarrassed expression.
"Well… wouldn't that be a bit improper? Do you have any friends staying with you? I could call them for you."
Inside, Natasha was laughing.
*"What a fool. I couldn't make it any clearer, and he still asks this?"*
She sighed softly, playing along.
"No, I'm here alone on business. No one else is with me. It's fine, just help me up—my head really hurts."
She pressed her hand to her forehead, a perfect picture of delicate frailty.
Maguire only sighed "helplessly," got out of the car, and opened her door.
Stumbling as she stepped out, Natasha let out a small cry.
"Ah—I twisted my ankle."
Maguire rolled his eyes inwardly.
*"Really? You're a world-class spy and you sprained your ankle? If that were true, you'd have shattered your feet a hundred times in combat."*
But he didn't call her out. Instead, he asked,
"Do you want me to call an ambulance?"
Natasha barely managed to suppress her laughter.
*"This boy… has he ever even dated a girl?"*
Thankfully, Maguire's physical control kept his heartbeat steady—otherwise, this fox of a woman would've seen through his act.
She shook her head.
"No need. Just a sprain. Just carry me upstairs."
Maguire blushed politely, stammering,
"Th-then… o-okay…"
Moving stiffly like a block of wood, he fumbled until Natasha finally looped her arms around his neck.
Carrying her with ease, he walked toward the hotel entrance.
Natasha thought to herself,
*"Not bad, little guy. Looks like he trains regularly."*
…
Soon they reached her room.
Maguire carefully set her down.
She swiped the card, opened the door, and looked back at him.
He lowered his head, unable to meet her gaze.
"Miss Natasha, since you're here now, I'll head off. We'll be in touch."
He turned to leave—
Natasha's lips curled into a bemused smile.
*"Didn't expect to meet such a pure boy. Faced with someone like me, and he's still ready to walk away?"*
"I can't walk on my own," she said quickly. "If you don't take me in, how am I supposed to get inside?"
Maguire nodded, scooped her up again, and carried her in.
As he stepped inside, Natasha casually kicked the door shut with her heel.
He consciously quickened his heartbeat, and Natasha, feeling it, smiled inwardly.
*"How surprising… there are still boys like this."*
Guided by her, they reached the bed.
He carefully laid her down and turned to leave—
But Natasha, already oddly fond of this "boy," pulled him back.
…
Maguire thought,
*"It's come this far… if I don't follow through, the entire transmigrator community will laugh at me. Especially that one author—they'll roast me alive as a coward."*
With that, he dove back into the act.
…
The night stretched on.
At dawn, sunlight touched Maguire's face.
He opened his eyes to find the room empty.
He smiled faintly.
Natasha had slipped away before sunrise, pausing only to glance one last time at the "sleeping" Maguire before leaving.
Of course, he had noticed—he'd only been pretending to sleep.
On the table lay a note:
*"Brother, I saved your number. Let's stay in touch. You're impressive."*
This time, she hadn't called him "little brother."
Looking at the note, Maguire chuckled.
…
PS: Just because she's been "collected" doesn't mean she's destined as the female lead. One-night flings, complicated ties—it could go either way.
//Check out my Patreon for 20 extra chapters on all my fanfics //[[email protected]/Razeil0810](http://[email protected]/Razeil0810)