Chapter 556: Charming Yuki

Her lower lip trembled.

"That’s—that’s not—"

"And right now," he continued, his thumb tracing a slow, absent circle on the back of the hand he still held, "you’re standing in a dress you

chose for me

. Not for a lunch. Not for a meeting. For me. Because you wanted to see what my face would do when I saw you in it."

She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them again, as though that might somehow reset reality.

They were wet.

"And what did your face do?" she whispered in a barely a sound. A breath shaped into words.

Phei smiled.

Not the sharp one. Not the dangerous one.

Something warmer. Quieter. The kind of smile that appeared when someone stopped pretending and, for a moment, simply

was

—and he chose to acknowledge it instead of tearing it apart.

"It did exactly what you wanted it to do,

Yuki."

She exhaled—long, unsteady, like she had been holding that breath since the moment his car passed through the gates.

"I hate you,"

she said.

There was no force behind it. No heat. The words melted before they fully left her lips.

"You don’t even slightly."

"I know."

He stepped back then, giving her space, allowing the air between them to cool from something scorching to something merely unbearable—still charged, still alive, but no longer suffocating.

"I owe you

an apology,

though."

She blinked, still flushed, still trying to gather the pieces of herself he had so casually

scattered.

"For what?"

"I’m currently transportation-less." He gestured vaguely behind him toward the empty drive where Melissa’s car had been, his tone slipping just enough toward casual to feel almost

ridiculous

after everything he’d just said.

"Melissa dropped me off and abandoned me to my fate."

A small pause.

Then, with perfect composure:

"So, if it’s not too much

trouble...

would you be willing to drive us?"

The shift from

devastating seducer

to slightly

sheepish boy

asking for a lift was so abrupt that Yuki let out a laugh—startled, genuine, the sound slipping out of her like a bird startled into flight.

"Phei, you called me this morning, asked if I could make time, you take me on a date...

and you came to my estate without a car?"

"I told you," he said easily. "The universe is generous to me. I just assume things

work out

."

"That’s not how the world works, Phei."

"It’s worked so far."

She shook her head, though the corners of her lips betrayed her. Pulled out her phone. Typed a quick message—efficient with the quiet authority of someone used to being obeyed.

Thirty seconds later, the estate garage opened, and a sleek black

P Wagon

rolled down the drive—elegant, powerful, its tinted windows catching the golden light like polished obsidian.

A staff member stepped out, approached Phei, and handed him the key fob with a small, respectful bow.

Phei nodded, taking it, feeling the weight settle into his palm—solid, expensive with the weight that whispered

this costs more than your entire past life

.

He glanced at it once.

Then, internally he sighed.

Ah. So this is what being rich feels like. Convenient. Slightly absurd. I could get used to this.

He walked to the passenger side, opened the door, and held his hand out.

Yuki looked at his hand. Looked at his face. Looked at his hand again.

"I can get in myself," she said—while placing her hand in his.

Her fingers were still cool. Still trembling. But they wrapped around his with a quiet certainty that contradicted every ounce of resistance in her voice, and Phei smiled faintly, because the contradiction was the entire story—Yuki Tanaka

resisting

with her words while

surrendering

with everything else.

She sat. The black dress pooled around her legs, the slit falling open across her thigh like it had been waiting for this exact moment to cause problems.

She reached for the seatbelt.

Phei got there first.

He leaned across her—close,

inescapably

close—his chest inches from hers, one hand drawing the belt across her body while the other guided the clasp toward the buckle and the movement brought his face level with hers, his jaw near her cheek, his neck exposed, warm from the evening air.

Yuki

inhaled.

She didn’t mean to.

Her body simply...

did.

The breath came deep, instinctive, the way a starving person inhales near food without permission from their brain. His scent hit her all at once—something about his scent that her mind couldn’t label but her body immediately decided was extremely important.

The girls had talked about it.

Endlessly.

In the chat.

His scent, his scent, you don’t understand until you’re close—

It’s not cologne, it’s just

HIM—

It’s

like—

—and then chaos, because none of them could actually explain it without sounding clinically insane.

She’d thought they were exaggerating.

They were not.

This—this was the source. Inches away. Real. Overwhelming in a way that made her lungs greedy and her thoughts unhelpfully quiet. Her brain tried to analyze it. Failed. Filed it under

dangerous, do not investigate further

—and her body immediately ignored that instruction.

Her thighs pressed together beneath the dress, subtle but undeniable, as something in her nervous system lit up in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with logic and everything to do with the fact that the boy leaning over her was not built like anything normal.

She breathed him in again.

Because apparently,

self-control

had left the car.

The seatbelt clicked.

Phei didn’t move.

He stayed there, leaned across her, close enough that her uneven exhales brushed faintly against his lips.

Her breathing had turned shallow, quick, betraying her completely—while his remained slow, steady, controlled.

The rhythm of someone entirely at ease, entirely in control, entirely aware of what he was doing.

Their eyes met.

Hers—wide, brown, glassy, pupils blown so dark the amber ring barely held.

His

—amethys

t, steady, carrying quiet, dangerous warmth that lived somewhere between patience and inevitability.

He smiled.

Not the sharp one. Not the teasing one.

The quiet one that said:

I see you. I know exactly what’s happening to you. And I’m not going to rush it.

She forgot to breathe.

He smiled again—just slightly wider, the corner of his mouth lifting—and then pulled back. Slowly. Deliberately. Letting the distance return at a pace that made every inch feel like something being taken away.

He closed her door.

Walked around to the driver’s side, unhurried, letting the cool night air settle whatever heat lingered under his skin.

Got in. Adjusted the mirror and started the car.

Yuki sat in the passenger seat, seatbelt fastened, clutch purse crushed against her thighs like it had personally offended her, her lungs still filled with something she already knew she would never forget.

Her heart was hammering loud enough to file a noise complaint.

He could hear it.

Of course he could.

He just smiled—and started to drive.