I brought a hand to my head as if that could stop the headache rising behind my temples. I knew this man practically owned the entire place, but God, I was just one of his employees, and I'd only been here a week.
"Listen," I said, trying to sound composed, "I'd appreciate it if you could be a little more… careful when we're in public. Especially when my neck is already like this." I pulled my coat open and pointed at the constellation of hickeys that was his handiwork.
Charles's gaze followed where I pointed. The corner of his lips curved up before his eyes slid back to mine. "I did quite a good job, didn't I?"
I frowned, zipping my coat back up. "Yes, very good indeed. Now I can't go anywhere without this coat. I don't even have a single high-collar top."
"Then maybe we could go shopping."
"Shopping? We?" I repeated, dumbstruck.
"You've been stuck here for a week. Maybe going out will clear your mind."
And just like that, he pulled out his phone and called his chauffeur.
I stared at him, incredulous. Was he even listening to himself? Was this how he usually pampered his mistresses? If so, I completely understood why they fell head over heels for him.
This man was a ten out of ten! Being taken out for shopping was every girl's dream — well, at least, mine. Back then, Niklas had never done such a thing with me. He had no patience for helping me choose or waiting while I tried on clothes. He always told me to go alone.
Once Charles finished the call, he grabbed my hand while I was still frozen in disbelief and dragged me out of the building.
"Didn't you say you've been busy these days?" I asked once we were inside the limousine.
"I did, but I've spent the whole morning on it. Now it can wait." His eyes flicked toward me, his tone sharpening. "Why are you sitting so far away?"
I startled, scooting closer little by little, forcing a weak smile. "Is this close enough?"
His brows drew together slightly. Then, without warning, he reached out, seized my wrist, and pulled me straight onto his lap. Heat rushed up my neck and burned across my face. Now that I was sober, I wasn't half as calm as I'd been last night.
One hand slid under my sweater, he drew me closer to his chest, his fingers started tracing lightly against my skin. My face started burning again, my body trembling as his wandering fingers traveled even further up.
As if that wasn't enough, his lips brushed against my ear, his breath hot as he murmured, "What's the matter? We're not in public now."
Though I couldn't see his face, I could practically feel the smirk curling on his lips as he spoke. I darted a glance at the black partition separating us from the chauffeur and stammered, "Um… Isn't this a little too close?"
"Too close?" He nipped at my earlobe teasingly. "Weren't we even closer just last night?" His tone dripped with amusement. "Or do you need a reminder?"
I turned around instantly. "That won't be necessary!"
But my protest was pointless. Charles's silver eyes were already tinged faintly red, his face clouded with unmistakable desire. The hardness pressing against my jeans only confirmed it.
"Can you wait until we get back, at least?" I muttered.
Though seeing him like this undoubtedly turned me on, getting caught doing it here would leave a permanent scar on my pride.
Charles didn't answer. A low, guttural sound escaped his throat as his hand slid up to my chin, the other tangling in my hair, pulling it gently back until my neck stretched upward. His lips brushed against my collarbone, leaving a trail of light kisses up to my neck before capturing my lips, his tongue moving greedily against mine.
"Then you'd better make up for this," he murmured between kisses, "for last night too."
My body tensed slightly. I realized I'd just signed myself up for another long, restless night.
The limousine stopped in front of the tallest commercial building in Z City. The shopping mall was bustling even outside rush hour.
I'd never been here before — partly because I couldn't afford to, and partly because shopping had never been my thing. The fact that I didn't even own a single high-collar top was proof enough of that.
When we walked in, Charles didn't stop at any of the glittering luxury boutiques lining the corridor. He passed them all, heading straight for the elevator.
Soon, we arrived on the thirteenth floor, high above the mall below. I had no idea what he planned to buy up here, but with a man like him, his taste was probably on another level. So I just followed quietly without asking questions.
The place he brought me to didn't look like a clothing store at all. It looked like… a hair salon?
As soon as we stepped inside, a woman dressed in a sleek black suit greeted us with a polite smile and led us further in.
"Hey," I whispered, nudging Charles. "You getting your hair done?"
He glanced down at me, his lips curving slightly. "Not my hair," he murmured. "Yours."
I almost raised my voice at Charles when the lady politely gestured toward one of the empty seats. "Please have a seat," she said, her tone directed at me.
I shot him a skeptical look. He simply returned one that clearly said, "I'm your boss—just do as I say." So, with no other choice, I sat down in front of the spotless, oversized mirror as the lady wrapped the massive hairdressing cape around me.
Soon after, a man appeared, his face lighting up at the sight of Charles. "Mr. Kosonen!" he greeted, extending a hand eagerly. "What a great pleasure to have you back. And who is this beautiful lady you've brought with you?"
Charles returned the handshake, his tone cool as ever. "My songbird," he said simply. "Do something that suits her best, Kenji. Something that'll make everyone stop and stare."
Kenji grinned. "That's my specialty, Mr. Kosonen." He came over to inspect my hair, his face turning serious as he ran his fingers through it. "Beautiful Miss Songbird! Your natural hair is exquisite, but I assume you've never set foot in a salon before, hmm?"
I let out a dry, awkward laugh. "Uh… yeah, I've been… kind of busy."
Kenji clicked his tongue dramatically. "No, no, no, Miss. That simply won't do! Especially for someone with such an elegant profile. Your hair isn't doing you justice. But you're lucky — Today, you've met Kenji. And Kenji is about to perform magic."
"Of course," I said with a wry smile, though my stomach was already tightening. "Please… uh… do whatever you think is best."
"Take good care of her," Charles said, glancing at his watch. "I have some shopping to do."
"Of course, Mr. Kosonen," Kenji replied brightly. "When you return, you'll hardly recognize your little songbird!"
My chest tightened at that. Whatever Kenji had in mind, I was sure it was the complete opposite of my current look. I'd had this long, straight black hair my whole life. I might as well start saying goodbye now.
Charles left without another word, while Kenji rubbed his hands together like a mad scientist plotting his next experiment. At his clap, five other stylists emerged from the back, lining up neatly in a row.
"Listen up, team!" Kenji declared. "Today, we're bringing this beautiful lady's hair to life after years of neglect!"
"Yes, sir!" they chorused like soldiers before diving into action, sectioning my hair and applying all sorts of mysterious chemicals I couldn't name.
The process dragged on for hours. Charles was nowhere to be seen. I dozed off more than once, only to be gently shaken awake by Kenji's finger tapping on my shoulder.
"Wakey wakey, sleeping beauty," he said with a grin. "Time to meet your new self."
They washed my hair for what felt like the hundredth time, then dried and styled it carefully. The mirror was kept turned away from me the entire time, as if they were saving the reveal for a grand finale.
When they finally finished, I heard the front door open again. I turned to see Charles walking in — his eyes widened instantly when he saw me, his mouth slightly parted.
"What do you think, Mr. Kosonen?" Kenji asked, brimming with pride.
Charles didn't answer. He just kept staring. The intensity of his gaze made me nervous, so I hurried toward the nearest mirror.
The moment I saw my reflection, my eyes flew wide open.