Eric's car rolled to a stop in the mansion's driveway, his jaw tight, his hands still gripping the steering wheel long after the engine went quiet.
The image wouldn't leave his mind—Kiki stepping out of his car that morning, looking radiant in the new clothes he had gotten her, only to be met by that boy. The way they hugged, the easy laughter they shared, the softness in her eyes when she looked at him.
It made something ugly coil inside him.
When she entered the house later that evening, he was waiting.
"Enjoy yourself today?" His voice was calm, too calm, the kind that hid a storm beneath.
Kiki froze mid-step. "W-what do you mean?"
He rose from the chair, his tall frame shadowing her, his dark eyes locked on hers. "That boy. The one who ran to you. The one you hugged like I wasn't standing there. Who is he?"
Her lips parted, but no sound came out. She hated how cornered she felt, how his gaze stripped her bare. "He's… just a friend. From school."
"Just a friend?" Eric stepped closer, forcing her back until her spine brushed the wall. "You smiled at him like he was more than that. You touched him like he was more than that."
Kiki's chin trembled, but she lifted it stubbornly. "You don't own me, Eric. You dragged me into this… this 'girlfriend contract' of yours, remember? You can't control who I speak to or what friends I have."
The words should have cut him—but instead they fueled his anger. His hand slammed against the wall beside her head, making her flinch.
"You think this is a game, Kiki? You think you can make me look like a fool in front of the whole world? In front of myself?" His voice broke, raw and unguarded. "You don't even realize what you're doing to me."
For a heartbeat, silence. His eyes flickered, revealing not just fury but something else. Something softer, almost pleading.
Kiki's chest tightened. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, Eric turned abruptly and stalked out, slamming the door behind her.
⸻
It was past 1 a.m. when Kiki awoke to the sound of the door creaking open. She sat up, startled, just as Eric stumbled inside.
Her gasp caught in her throat. He was bruised, bloodied, his shirt half torn, his lips split. He looked like a man who had walked through hell.
"Eric!" She rushed to him.
He said nothing, only staggered toward her bed before collapsing onto the floor.
Kiki dropped to her knees, panic flooding her. "Oh my God… what happened?"
His breathing was ragged, his weight heavy when she tried to lift him. She dragged him onto her bed, ignoring his weak protest, and fetched water and a first aid kit. For the next hour, she cleaned his wounds, washed the blood from his skin, and carefully wrapped his bruises.
Her hands shook, but she worked until his breathing steadied. Finally, exhausted, she slumped into the chair beside him, her eyes burning with unshed tears.
⸻
When Eric stirred, the first thing he saw was her—head bowed in sleep, her hand resting lightly near his bandaged arm.
For the first time in years, something inside him eased.
She woke as he shifted, her eyes immediately flashing with anger and worry.
"Do you enjoy doing this to yourself?!" she scolded, voice sharp but trembling. "Do you think you're some kind of superhero, running around getting beaten by gangs? Do you know how scared I was? How—how—"
Her words broke off as he caught her wrist, tugging her closer.
Before she could finish, his lips claimed hers.
The kiss was sudden, searing, desperate. Kiki's eyes widened, her body frozen for a heartbeat. Then her heart leapt into a wild rhythm, her breath stolen.
She pushed him back, her face flushed. "Are you crazy?! You think you can just kiss me to shut me up?!" She hit his chest lightly, tears of frustration in her eyes.
But Eric's gaze held hers, dark and burning. "I'm sorry," he whispered, voice raw. "I shouldn't have… but I couldn't stop myself. Not anymore."
He turned to leave, shame flickering across his features.
But something in Kiki snapped.
Her hand grabbed his arm. "Don't go," she whispered.
Before she could think, before she could stop herself, she pulled him back—and this time it was her lips that found his.
The kiss deepened, urgent and aching, as though both had been holding back too long. His hands framed her face, hers tangled in his hair, and soon words were forgotten, replaced by heat, by need, by the unspoken truth neither dared admit.
They spent the night entwined, whispers and touches filling the silence where fear had lived before. For the first time, Kiki felt the walls of her captivity blur, replaced by something dangerously close to tenderness.
⸻
Morning sunlight crept through the curtains.
Kiki stirred, her lashes fluttering open. Her heart nearly stopped.
Eric lay beside her, still asleep, his arm draped protectively around her waist.
She pressed a hand to her lips, memory flooding back. Her face flushed crimson.
"I shouldn't have drunk that wine in your study…" she whispered, trying to convince herself that maybe it had been the drink. That maybe she hadn't meant every kiss, every touch, every surrender.
But the truth burned in her chest.
She had.
And the way Eric's hand tightened around her, even in sleep, made her wonder if he had too.