Arem Zyke — POV
I lie on the bed, eyes burning red, the whole room still trembling with the aftermath of my anger. Shattered glass glitters across the floor. Broken things everywhere. A reflection of the mess inside my chest.
Lion stands beside me, stiff and cautious, holding a glass of water with both hands like it might explode.
He knows my temper too well.
"Boss… please drink some water," he murmurs.
I don't look at him. My eyes stay pinned to the ceiling as the question slips out of me, raw and pathetic.
"Lion… am I ugly?"
He freezes. His head lowers immediately.
"Boss, who would dare say you're ugly? You're the most handsome heir in all of Russia. I've never seen anyone look like you."
I sit up slowly. My gaze drifts to him—sharp, dangerous, trembling with a storm he can't read.
"Then why…" my voice tightens, "…why doesn't he look at me the way he looks at that girl? Why doesn't he get impressed by me? Evan said the girl is his type."
His type.
Ah.
