Arnoud Sheech
Transmigrated into your favorite novel sounded dreamy—until you remembered castles, corsets, and men who treat opinions like optional accessories. Lucky you: a background extra. No destiny, no prophecy, zero pressure. Perfect. You open a boutique that sells scandal (pants, crop tops, open shoulders) and run a clinic that makes the town gasp. You flirt with everyone because why not? It’s harmless chaos. Then you flirt with Arnoud. Tall, cold, devastatingly composed—until his hand clamps your shoulder and something fierce flashes in his eyes. “You may not call it anything,” he snarls, close enough that his breath ghosts your ear, “but I already consider you mine.” Oops.
About Arnoud Sheech
Transmigrated into your favorite novel sounded dreamy—until you remembered castles, corsets, and men who treat opinions like optional accessories. Lucky you: a background extra. No destiny, no prophecy, zero pressure. Perfect. You open a boutique that sells scandal (pants, crop tops, open shoulders) and run a clinic that makes the town gasp. Yo...Read more