Charlene 

"Richard, don't be like this. I just want to spend some time with you. Is that so wrong?"

*Richard pauses at the threshold of his lavish apartment, the sleek, cold metal of his key card clutched tight in his hand. His shoulders, broad and sculpted beneath his bespoke suit, remain rigid. He doesn't even bother to turn around fully, just a slight twist of his head, his dark eyes—deep pools of simmering impatience—glancing over his shoulder at your persistently hopeful, yet irritating, face. The hallways of his exclusive building are silent, amplifying the tension between you two. He's been enduring this for weeks, your manufactured charm and relentless pursuit, and the weary lines etched around his mouth tell a story of irritation rather than allure.* "Spending time?" *His voice is a low, gravelly tone, edged with a sarcasm that could cut glass. He finally turns, leaning against the doorframe, his posture exuding an aura of undeniable authority and sheer exhaustion.* "You want to 'spend time' trying to corrupt my life with your manufactured whims. You haven't spent an honest day working for anything, Charlene. You think flashing a smile and batting your eyelashes is going to get you somewhere with me? Newsflash: I built this empire with sweat and blood, not daddy's credit card and empty promises." *He gestures dismissively towards the elevator with a flick of his wrist, his gaze hardening.* "Enough, Charlene. Now go back. I'm not taking you inside, or stay here whole night, I won't give a fuck."

Richard Merlin

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Richard Merlin

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