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"Whoa... chill out, man," the stranger stammered, raising one hand in a mock gesture of surrender. His eyes, however, still danced with a taunting light. "She was sitting here all alone, and I just thought—who would leave such a beautiful..." His gaze raked over Yunah one last time, lingering too long, before Noah stepped directly into his line of sight, a wall of pure obsidian. "...wife alone?" The man tilted his head, the word wife sounding like a deliberate provocation.
Noah didn't waste another second. He twisted the man's wrist with a sickening crack of leather against bone, stepping into his personal space. "Say that again," he hissed. As he moved, he shifted his blazer just enough to reveal the cold, matte-black steel of the gun holstered at his side.
The stranger's confidence vanished instantly. He froze, the blood draining from his face as he realized he wasn't just dealing with a jealous husband, but a professional killer.
"Man, I... I was just joking," the guy stammered, his voice trembling as he looked into Noah's murderous eyes.
"Apologize," Noah commanded, the word vibrating with a low, lethal resonance.
"Okay! Okay!" the man gasped, desperate to free his trapped wrist. "I'm sorry!"
"Not to me," Noah growled, his voice dropping an octave. "To my wife." He stepped aside just an inch, revealing Yunah once more.
The stranger's eyes were wide with genuine terror now. "I'm sorry," he whispered, looking at Yunah with a desperation that had replaced all his earlier arrogance.
Noah glanced back at Yunah, and for a heartbeat, their eyes locked. Seeing the shift in her expression was enough; he released the man's wrist with a disdainful shove.The stranger didn't wait—he turned and fled into the crowd, disappearing like a shadow.
"Are you okay?" Noah asked, turning to her. His voice had softened instantly, the jagged edges of his rage smoothing out.
Yunah looked at him, and something deep within her shifted. For the first time, the "Jay" persona didn't feel like a threat—he felt like a sanctuary. The way he had defended her, demanding respect on her behalf, made her feel a strange, fluttering sense of safety.
"I'm fine," she replied, her voice soft as she looked up at him. After a brief pause, she added, "Thank you."
Noah let out a short, breathy scoff. "You're welcome." A small, surprisingly gentle smile touched his lips. "Then, if you don't mind... may I have the pleasure of a dance? No force, of course." He extended his hand, the leather glove stark against the glittering lights of the hall.
Yunah stared at his palm for a long moment before finally placing her hand in his. "I don't know how to dance," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the music.
"Don't worry," Noah murmured, his eyes locking onto hers. "Just follow my lead. I won't let you fall."
He pulled her gently toward the center of the floor. He placed her hand on his shoulder, his own hand settling firmly yet carefully on the small of her back, while the other held hers in the air. As a romantic melody swept through the hall, they began to move. It was magnificent—like a scene from an old film.
Noah was surprisingly graceful, guiding her through the steps as the world around them blurred into a kaleidoscope of gold and silk.
When the music signaled a change of partners, Yunah instinctively began to turn, expecting to be passed to another man. But Noah's grip tightened. He pulled her back against his chest, refusing to let her go and ignoring the other women who were waiting for the transition.
Yunah looked up at him, confused. "Aren't we supposed to change partners?"
"Yes," Noah nodded, his feet still moving in time with the music, his gaze never leaving her masked face. "But I don't want to. I only want to dance with you."
He said it so simply, as if it were the most obvious truth in the world. Yunah stared at him, her mind racing. Why was he treating her like this? If she was just a cover for his mission, why did he look at her like she was the only person in the room?
"What are you thinking so deeply about, Miss Yunah?" Noah asked, noticing the way her brow knit together.
"Nothing," she lied, looking away. "Just wondering when we'll be going back."
Noah didn't believe her for a second, but he didn't push. "Soon," he promised. "After the auction. It's starting shortly... but if you're tired, you can go and rest in the VVIP suite."
"Will it be okay if I miss the auction?"
"Of course. I'll handle everything. If you want to rest, you should." He paused, his gaze dropping to her feet. "Do you want to go to the room now?"
"Yes," Yunah admitted with a small nod. "My feet are starting to hurt. I really need to take these heels off."
Noah's eyes darkened with a flash of regret. "You should have told me earlier."
Before she could react, he swept her off her feet, lifting her in a bridal carry right in the middle of the crowded dance floor.
"What are you doing? Put me down! I can walk!" Yunah hissed, her face turning crimson as she realized everyone was watching.
"Didn't you just say your feet were hurting?" Noah asked, his voice calm and unyielding as he began to stride away.
"Yes, but I can still walk!"
"Too late for that," he replied flatly. He ignored her protests and the gasps of the onlookers, carrying her out of the main hall and toward the private VVIP wing with the steady, effortless pace of a man who had finally claimed exactly what he wanted.