~{Chapter 10}Baited~
At around 2 Am, the mansion had gone quiet. All the servants had gone to bed. Security guards were stationed where needed securing. But the main house was empty.
Moon stood in the hallway outside his suite, dressed entirely in black. Dark jeans, fitted long-sleeve shirt, gloves, and a cap pulled low over his face. He'd waited until the entire household had settled, listening for the telltale sounds of sleep.
Mr. Lee's study would have been ideal, but it was too close to the main hallways, too many security cameras. His bedroom, however, was in the west wing, private, isolated, and according to the mansion's layout Moon had memorized, equipped with only minimal surveillance.
Moon moved silently through the corridors, keeping to the shadows. Years of training made his footsteps soundless against the marble floors.
He reached Mr. Lee's door and paused, for a while, listening and waiting for any signal to go in. A couple of minutes later he heard it.
Water running. The bathroom.
Perfect.
Moon carefully picked the lock with a pin, then quietly slipped inside, closing the door with barely a whisper. The room was spacious, king-sized bed, expensive furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows with heavy curtains drawn. A laptop sat closed on the desk near the window.
Moon moved quickly to it, pulling out a small USB drive. He opened the laptop carefully, no password on the lock screen.
Careless, maybe. Or confident no one would dare enter his private quarters.
Moon plugged in the drive and began copying files. Financial records, emails, meeting notes. The progress bar crawled forward agonizingly slowly.
The water shut off.
Moon's pulse spiked. He glanced at the screen.
60% complete.
He could hear movement in the bathroom. A cabinet opening. Closing.
70%.
Moon's eyes flicked to the curtains. They were slightly askew from where he'd brushed past them to reach the desk.
80%.
The bathroom door handle turned.
90%.
Moon yanked out the drive the second it hit 95%, shut the laptop, and dove toward the window. He slipped behind the curtain just as the bathroom door opened.
Mr. Lee emerged in a silk robe, hair damp, rubbing a towel against his neck.
Moon held his breath, pressing himself flat against the wall behind the heavy fabric.
Mr. Lee moved to his dresser, opened a drawer. Moon could see his silhouette through the thin gap where the curtain didn't quite meet the wall.
Then Mr. Lee stopped.
His head turned toward the window.
Toward the curtains.
Moon's heart hammered. He'd disturbed them. The fabric hung differently than it had before.
Mr. Lee approached slowly, eyes narrowed.
Moon's hand moved to the window latch behind him, calculating. Second floor. Jumpable if necessary.
Mr. Lee stopped a foot away from the curtain.
Then he turned sharply and walked to his nightstand instead, pulling open the drawer.
Moon watched through the gap as Mr. Lee extracted something small and black.
A gun.
Compact, sleek, clearly well-maintained.
"I know someone's here,"
Mr. Lee said quietly, voice calm but cold. He checked the chamber.
"The security in this house is better than you think."
Moon's breath stilled. Mr. Lee moved toward the door, gun held professionally at his side.
"Whoever you are, you've made a significant mistake."
The door opened. Mr. Lee stepped into the hallway.
Moon waited three seconds, then slipped out from behind the curtain. He moved to the window, opened it silently, and climbed out onto the narrow ledge that ran along the exterior of the mansion.
The night air hit him, cool and sharp.
He couldn't go back to his room the normal way, Mr. Lee would be checking the corridors, possibly alerting security. Moon needed to disappear, to become someone who had no reason to be sneaking around.
He moved along the ledge to a less visible section, then climbed back through an unlocked window into a storage room. He stripped off the black shirt, the gloves, the cap, shoving them behind a stack of unused furniture. His jeans followed.
Underneath, he wore only a white singlet and black shorts, something that could pass as sleepwear if questioned.
Moon tucked the USB drive into the waistband of his shorts and carefully opened the storage room door.
The hallway was empty, but he could hear footsteps in the distance. Mr. Lee, searching.
Moon moved quickly but quietly through the back corridors, taking the servants' routes that led toward the east wing where his room was located.
He was halfway there when he passed Alex's door.
He heard a sound.
A thud. Movement. Something muffled.
Moon froze.
Another intruder?
His protective instincts overrode caution. Moon pushed open Alex's door and slipped inside, closing it silently behind him.
The room was dark, curtains drawn. Moon's eyes adjusted quickly.
Alex was in bed, tangled in sheets, moving restlessly. Not an intruder, a nightmare.
Moon exhaled, tension bleeding from his shoulders.
He should leave. Get back to his room before—
"No,"
Alex mumbled, voice thick with sleep and distress.
"Don't—"
Moon found himself moving closer before he could think better of it.
Alex's face was creased with tension, a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. His breathing was uneven.
"Sir,"
Moon whispered, kneeling beside the bed.
Alex's eyes were still closed, but his hand shot out, fingers closing around Moon's wrist with surprising strength.
"It's okay,"
Moon said softly.
"You're just—"
Alex pulled.
Moon lost his balance, toppling forward onto the bed.
And suddenly Alex's arms were around him, pulling Moon close against his chest with desperate strength.
"Stay,"
Alex mumbled against Moon's hair, still half-asleep.
"Don't... don't go."
Moon went rigid, every nerve firing at once. Alex was warm, solid, his grip firm but not painful. Moon could feel his heartbeat, still racing from whatever dream had gripped him.
"Alex,"
Moon tried again, voice barely above a whisper.
"I should—"
"Please."
The word was so soft, so vulnerable, that it stopped Moon cold.
Alex's breathing began to even out, his hold relaxing slightly but not releasing.
Moon knew he should pull away. Should extract himself and get back to his room before Mr. Lee's search reached this wing.
But Alex's arms around him felt like safety and danger all at once.
And Moon, treacherously, didn't want to move.
Just for a moment, he told himself. Just until Alex's breathing steadies completely.
Moon let himself relax, just slightly, into the embrace.
Alex made a small sound, almost content, and tightened his hold.
Outside, footsteps echoed in the hallway.
Moon's eyes flew open.
Mr. Lee, still searching.
Moon held perfectly still, barely breathing, as the footsteps approached Alex's door.
Paused.
Moon could feel his pulse thundering.
Then the footsteps continued past, fading down the corridor.
Moon released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
He needed to leave. Now. Before Alex woke up fully and demanded answers Moon couldn't give.
But Alex's grip was still firm, his face peaceful now, buried against Moon's shoulder.
And Moon—-
Moon closed his eyes.
Just five more minutes, he bargained with himself.
Then he'd slip away.
__________
The exhaustion of the night caught up with Moon.
His eyes grew heavy, lulled by the steady rhythm of Alex's breathing, the warmth surrounding him, the illusion of safety.
Just five minutes, he had told himself.
But sleep pulled him under before he could even resist.
Dawn broke softly, pale light filtering through the gaps in the curtains.
Alex woke slowly, awareness returning in fragments.
Warmth. Weight against his chest. The scent of something clean and faintly masculine.
His eyes opened.
Moon was asleep beside him, curled into Alex's side, one hand resting against Alex's chest. His face was peaceful, unguarded in a way Alex had never seen before.
The memory from last returned in a rush, the nightmare, reaching out, pulling someone close. Moon's voice, quiet and reassuring.
The desperate need to not be alone.
Alex went very still.
Moon was in his bed.
Moon had stayed.
Alex's heart rate picked up, but he didn't move.
Couldn't move.
Because looking at Moon like this, vulnerable, completely relaxed, the careful professional mask stripped away by sleep. Alex saw something he hadn't allowed himself to notice before.
Moon was beautiful.
Not in the polished, put-together way he presented during the day. This was different. Raw. Real.
His features were delicate but strong, high cheekbones, a straight nose, lips slightly parted in sleep. Dark lashes rested against his skin. His hair, usually perfectly styled, fell softly across his forehead.
Alex found himself studying every detail. The faint shadows under Moon's eyes that suggested he didn't sleep enough. A small scar near his hairline, barely visible. The way his chest rose and fell with each breath as he slept.
Slept.
How long had it been since he had slept, so deeply? So peacefully?
Without the nightmares. No images of the attack, no anxiety spiraling out of control.
Just... sleep. Real sleep.
Was this because of Moon?.
Because Moon was in his bed?.
Curled up in his arms.?
Heart beating rhythmically?.
Alex's hand, still resting on Moon's back, tightened slightly.
This was dangerous. This feeling unfurling in his chest, warm but terrifying.
He should wake Moon. Demand explanations. Reestablish boundaries.
But Alex found he couldn't.
Not yet.
He carefully extracted himself from Moon's hold, moving slowly so as not to wake him. Moon made a small sound of protest but didn't wake, simply curling into the warm spot Alex had left behind.
Alex stood beside the bed for a moment, looking down at him.
Then he turned and headed for the bathroom.
__________
The shower was cold—deliberately so.
Alex stood under the spray, trying to clear his head, to wash away the tingling feelings at the depth of his stomach
It didn't work.
He could still feel the ghost of Moon's weight against him, the trust implied in the way Moon had relaxed into sleep.
Alex shut off the water and grabbed a towel, roughly drying his hair.
He needed to think. Needed to figure out what the hell was happening to him.
He wrapped the towel around his waist and opened the bathroom door.
He slowed.
Moon was awake.
Standing beside the bed, clearly about to make a quiet exit. His hair was mussed from sleep, his clothes—
Alex's mind caught up.
Moon was wearing almost nothing. Just a thin white singlet and black shorts.
Not the suit from yesterday. Not pajamas. Barefooted.
Their eyes met across the room.
They both froze.
Moon's expression flickered through several emotions, surprise, calculation, something that might have been panic, before settling into careful neutrality.
But his body language betrayed him.
Tense. Caught.
"Sir,"
Moon said quietly.
"I—"
"Why are you dressed like that?"
Alex cut in, his voice casual but stern.
Moon glanced down at himself, then back up.
"I... I heard something. Last night. I thought—"
"You thought what?"
Alex took a step forward, water still dripping from his hair.
"That there was an intruder, so you came to check on me wearing almost nothing?"
Moon's jaw tightened.
"Yes...yes sir."
"And then stayed. In my bed."
"You were having a nightmare."
Moon's voice was defensive now.
"You grabbed me. I didn't want to wake you up—."
"So you just... fell asleep?
Moon was quiet for a moment.
"I'm sorry sir. It won't happen again."
Alex took another step closer. They
were now only a few inches apart.
He studied Moon for a long moment, taking in every minor detail. The way Moon's hair was messy. The way he curled his lips. The way he couldn't look up at Alex. His folded hands. Shoulders rigid with tension.
"Do I make you uncomfortable?"
Alex asked. His voice low and husky.
Moon blinked, clearly not expecting that question.
"sir..."
"You seem uncomfortable."
Moon was speechless for a moment, then he answered.
"You're... very close, sir. And I—"
He gestured vaguely at Alex, at himself.
"I need to... I need to maintain professional distance, sir."
Alex glanced down at himself, bare-chested, water still dripping from his hair, wearing only a towel. Then at Moon, in his singlet and shorts, looking decidedly unprofessional.
The irony wasn't lost on him.
He studied Moon for another few seconds. The flush creeping up Moon's neck. The way he was careful avoiding looking directly at Alex. The tension in his posture that probably had nothing to do with fear.
Something made Alex's pulse quicken.
"You can leave,"
He said quietly.
"Go get ready. We have a lot of work today."
Relief flashed across Moon's face.
"Yes, sir."
Moon moved to the door, keeping his eyes averted. He was reaching for the handle when Alex called out. He paused and turned to fully face Alex.
"Thank you,"
Alex said in a soft tone.
"I slept well last night, better than I have in months."
Moon didn't say anything. He just smiled and bowed slightly. Then he was gone, the door clicking softly shut behind him.
Alex stood alone in his room, staring at the closed door for a couple more seconds.
His chest felt tight.
Strange.
He went and sat on the edge of his bed, running a hand through his damp hair.
This was dangerous.
Moon was still hiding things. Still lying about something. Alex knew it.
But why did he feel safer last night than he had in years. Had slept without nightmares. Woken up and the first thing he'd thought about wasn't the company or his father or the conspiracies he was trying to solve.
It was rather Moon. How peaceful he'd looked lying there on his bed. Cuddled up in his arms.
Alex pressed his palms against his face.
What was going on with him.
Was he developing feelings for his assistant.
For someone he couldn't fully trust.
For someone who might be sent to harm him.
The question hung heavy in his chest.
And the possibility of the answer being positive terrified him.
_________
Moon made it back to his room and shut the door, leaning against it heavily.
His heart was still racing. His mind replaying everything.
Alex, half-naked and still wet from the shower. Standing so close he could see the water droplets on his skin, could smell the clean scent of soap.
The way Alex had looked at him, not with the usual suspicion or coldness, but with something else. Something softer. Concerned. Almost... tender.
"I slept well last night."
Moon closed his eyes, guilt twisting in his stomach. He was supposed to be objective. Professional. Emotionally detached.
But last night, when Alex had pulled him close, and mumbled those desperate words to his ears, Moon hadn't wanted to leave. He'd wanted to stay. To protect and comfort Alex.
And it was worst because deep down, he knew it wasn't because of his mission.
It was because it was Alex.
He was developing feelings for his target.
For the son of the man he is supposed to take revenge on.
For someone he was lying and deceiving.
The weight of it crashed over him.
This was exactly what he'd been trained not to do.
And he'd done it anyway.
Moon pushed off the door and moved to his desk. He reached for the flash drive in his waistband—where he'd put it the night before—and froze.
It wasn't there.
Moon's blood ran cold.