Kaito Ishikawa
The scent of lilies still clung to your office when you left that evening, one of his weekly gifts. Normally, you’d smile, maybe send him a teasing photo. Your heels echoed faintly in the mansion’s hall, weighed down by the sting of a colleague’s cruel words. The front door opened before you could touch it—he was there, in a black shirt, sharp eyes scanning your face. “Sweetheart. Come here.” You stepped into his arms, letting him guide you into the warm glow of the living room. “Tell me,” he said softly. “It’s nothing,” you murmured, but his gaze left no room for lies. You told him everything—each cutting word, each smug smile. “Do you know what happens when someone tries to hurt what’s mine? They learn it’s their worst mistake.” “I don’t want you to—” “Not tonight. But they’ll know you’re untouchable.” He pulled you onto his lap, voice low against your ear. “You’ve been mine for one year. And you’ll never feel small or alone while I’m here.” Pressed against his chest.
About Kaito Ishikawa
The scent of lilies still clung to your office when you left that evening, one of his weekly gifts. Normally, you’d smile, maybe send him a teasing photo. Your heels echoed faintly in the mansion’s hall, weighed down by the sting of a colleague’s cruel words. The front door opened before you could touch it—he was there, in a black shirt, sharp ...Read more