I shot a glance at Room 2, then back at Charles, thinking.
Long gone were the days when I still believed a "drink at a guy's place" meant just a drink. I had Niklas to thank for that enlightenment.
Karl had mentioned the other day that I wasn't the first woman to come beg for Charles's attention. After the whole Juho incident, I was even more convinced Charles might be the same kind of man — someone who'd had plenty of stunning women in his life and treated short flings like everyday habits.
Even if Charles's intentions were pure, accepting that invitation could still lead to a mess. If anyone found out, I'd probably earn myself a bad reputation, considering Charles was basically my boss.
Still, I couldn't deny the fact that I found Charles a very attractive man.
Attractive. Not more.
With the last two long weeks filled with nothing but heartbreaks, from Niklas, to Marja, to the debt, and most recently Juho, my worn-out soul honestly felt like taking a small break and a small risk.
"I'd love to," I said quietly.
Charles's lips curved faintly. He turned and gestured me toward his door.
Room 2 didn't look quite like mine. It was more furnished, more lived-in, with soft, warm light glowing along the walls, making the place feel cozy.
"Would you be okay with wine instead of boba tea?" Charles asked as we stepped inside.
"Wine is great," I said.
He led me to a room next to the master bedroom. "Come," he said, pushing the door open. "Pick whatever you like."
The moment I saw what was inside, my mouth parted.
If that space was a closet in my flat, here Charles had turned it into a full-blown private collection of wines and spirits.
At that point, I could already picture how he'd invite some beautiful singers or actresses, then charm them with this entire setup and let them pick a bottle. Every bottle in here looked like it could easily cost a few thousands of S-dollars.
I walked around, scanning the shelves, until my eyes landed on a dusty old bottle of red wine on the lowest rack. The label was worn and plain. I figured it was probably one of the cheapest ones.
"This one looks alright." I picked it up and showed him.
"Hm." He took the bottle from me, opened it, and poured two glasses.
We toasted and took a sip. My eyes widened the moment the taste hit my tongue. It was sweet and tangy, nothing like any red wine I'd ever tried. Definitely worth whatever ridiculous price it cost.
"This tastes amazing," I said.
Charles didn't look even half as impressed. "Not bad," he said casually. "I almost forgot about it since the auction."
A chill ran down my spine. "Did… did you just say auction?" I swallowed hard, the glass trembling slightly in my hand. "Um, Charles, how much did you get this for?"
"Two hundred fifty thousand or so."
Thank God I didn't drop the glass.
So, I'd just drunk something that cost as much as the debt that made me sell my soul to this man.
He looked utterly unfazed. Not even a hint of pride in his tone. I could already imagine how stunning the women who'd been here before me must have been to satisfy his kind of taste.
The wine didn't taste good anymore. It tasted expensive.
"I heard everyone at KE knows about you now," Charles said, leading me back to the living room. "Is the training going well?"
"Not too bad," I shrugged. "I've met… quite a few interesting people."
"Like Antony?"
"Um, yes," I nodded, taking my seat at the sofa. It seemed Antony's reputation was so well-known even someone at the top like Charles was aware of.
Charles sat next to me. His tone suddenly cooled. "Is he more handsome than me?"
I blinked, unsure if he was joking. I didn't think someone like him would bother with that kind of thing.
Would it enrage him if I said they were equally hot? Probably. Men were competitive creatures, especially rich and powerful ones like this snow leopard here. Better not set him off.
So, I deflected. "Well, Antony's… intimidating. And strange."
"Strange?" The corner of his mouth lifted, amused. "How strange?"
"I gave him a friendly pat on the back the other day, then found out he doesn't like women touching him."
"So he's still like that, huh?"
I raised a brow. "You know about that too?"
"How could I not?" Charles said, his tone smooth as ever, taking another sip of his wine. "Antony is my younger brother."
My face went stiff. My hand almost crushed the glass.
"Half-brother, to be exact," he added coolly.
Needless to say, I froze to stone.
Did he just tell me so casually that my handsome but cranky dance instructor was one of the potential heirs of the Kosonen family? The same Antony who could dance like water and yet screamed like a tsundere the moment I touched him?
No wonder they shared that same silver hair color. And that icy aura too. They practically mastered the art of weaponizing it, shooting cold spikes at anyone who dared breathe near them.
I downed the rest of the wine in one go and set the glass down. With how this conversation was going, I was pretty sure the glass wouldn't survive if I kept holding it.
"If… if Antony's your half-brother," I stammered, "then why is he not, you know, involved in your family's business?"
"Because the boy knows his place," Charles said, lips curling into an insidious smirk.
I stared at him, uneasy.
"And he's not interested in that world anyway," Charles added casually. "His passion's always been in music and performing."
"Then do you know why Antony doesn't like being touched by women?" I asked carefully.
"His mother committed suicide after giving birth to him. After he learned the truth, Antony just became like that. Never lets a single woman touch him."
I went quiet. Guilt washed over me all at once. No wonder Antony had seemed so off that day. I'd asked him to pull me up without thinking, and he actually did, despite his trauma. I still hadn't apologized since. What an insensitive fool I was.
Charles finished his wine silently.
I was so deep in my thoughts I didn't even notice he'd moved closer.
"Would you sing a song for me?" he asked, his voice low and soft, just inches from my ear.
I startled, jerking back a little. This time, I didn't feel as nervous as before at his request. Or maybe the wine had simply kicked in.
"Of course," I said. "What would you like to hear this time?"
"Something not related to your ex-boyfriend," he murmured, his gaze fixed on mine. "Or any other exes I'm not aware of."