Yan City at night.

The snowfall had just stopped, streetlights flickered on.

Fourth floor of the 3A club.

Josephine Armstrong hadn’t expected much when she wandered in for a casual drink. What she definitely didn’t expect was running into a bunch of seriously messed-up foreign fans.

She had clearly underestimated how big of a deal that Hollywood movie from two years ago had been.

But even more unexpected? Finding someone else stuck in the same mess as her.

Inside the cramped stall in the restroom, a man was already leaning against the wall—broad shoulders, long legs, and wearing a crisp dress shirt with tailored trousers. He looked like some CEO who just walked out of a shareholders’ meeting.

When she glanced up and met his gaze, his eyes were cold, like winter stars. He seemed to be holding something back. His sharp brows furrowed slightly, and up close, she caught the faint scent of tobacco mixed with a cool aftertaste.

While Josephine was checking Lawton Carter out, he was also sizing up the woman who’d just barged in.

She was standing super close to him, wearing a cheongsam in the middle of freaking winter—her long, pale neck wrapped in a fluffy white fur collar. She looked classy as hell.

Her figure was tall and elegant, and the soft curve of her body leaned just slightly in his direction. When she looked at him, her eyes were smoky and alluring—there was definitely something mesmerizing about her.

They were standing so close to each other—with only her coat on her arm barely acting as a barrier—you could probably hear both their heartbeats in that tiny space.

Then came the hurried footsteps outside, getting closer.

“Where’d they go?”

“They turned the corner—couldn’t have gotten far!”

“Split up and keep looking!”

The two of them froze, not even daring to breathe. A few of the guys sounded like they left, but some were still lingering.

“He’s not far. Dude’s alone, right? Once you see him, grab him and start filming!”

Lawton was already backed up all the way into the corner, but maybe the extra person threw off the balance—because suddenly the stall door started sliding open with a soft creak.

At this rate, they were about to be completely exposed.

Thinking fast, Josephine yanked the man’s collar, wrapped one hand around the back of his neck, and tugged his head down toward her. Smooth.

With her coat-covered arm, she tossed the garment over his head, hiding his upper body.

Right then, the stall door slid all the way open.

Two guys outside squinted in at her, clearly confused.

Josephine leaned in like she had just kissed the man’s cheek, then tilted her head and gave them a look—her cheeks just the right amount of flushed. “What are y’all staring at? Ever seen people being affectionate before?”

This was a party floor, after all. People were drinking and doing who knows what in every room. Getting handsy in the restroom wasn’t even that weird.

Plus, the lighting near the restroom was dim. The two men didn’t look interested in causing trouble—they just wanted to find whoever they were chasing.

Josephine gave them a charming smile, the kind that could knock a guy flat.

Then she threw in a flirty line: “Come on, bros. This guy? Took me forever to reel him in. He's shy, alright? Mind giving us a little space to warm up?”Totally. Even if his face and build weren’t clear, that guy hugging the woman? His ears were so red they looked like they might start bleeding.

One of the guys chuckled. “Seriously? A grown man blushing? Alright, we’ll leave you two lovebirds to it.”

Josephine Armstrong loosely wrapped her arms around the man's waist, resting her cheek against her own coat. But under the cover of that coat, her fingers were getting a little handsy.

The moment she touched him, she could feel his breath hitch near her ear—it got hotter, damn near scalding, brushing over her pale neck and leaving a trail of heat.

“Thanks, bros,” she said, voice sugary sweet, flashing a smile that made the two dudes completely dumbstruck.

She coyly lifted a leg and nudged the restroom door shut.

No footsteps outside now. Not daring to move, Josephine listened as a loud “click” echoed, and the narrow crack of light under the door disappeared. That barely-hanging-on door? Those two guys had actually shut it tight from the outside.

“Enjoy yourselves, little sis. No need to thank us,” they laughed as they entered the elevator.

Then one of them made a call, his voice dropping low: “Sorry, boss. I lost that guy.”

...

Once their footsteps faded and the area went quiet, Josephine peeled off her wool coat and cautiously pushed against the door—solid. Not budging at all.

Well, guess she’d officially sabotaged herself.

In the cramped stall, the man's breathing—rough and uneven—sounded loud as hell. Josephine leaned back against the wall, staring at him: stone-faced, eyes dark, but with a flicker of frustration.

“What, I helped you out and now you wanna eat me alive as a thank-you?”

She tilted her head, giving him a once-over. “I covered for you. I had to make it look real, right? Just a quick touch. Seriously, aren’t you being a bit dramatic?”

Her prettily curved voice carried a tease, and her expression clearly wasn’t pulling any punches in that department either. She moved a bit closer. “Losing it over that? Really?”

Lawton Carter caught the little smirk in her gaze, that faint perfume clinging to her skin getting stronger as she stepped in. He held his breath and spoke with a hoarse edge. “Back off.”

Up close, Josephine noticed how warm he felt—like hot to the touch. Even in the low light, his ears looked flushed red. Two buttons undone from his white shirt, revealing a hard, well-defined chest tinged with a pink glow.

That’s when she realized something was up.

“Wait… you’re—”

She blinked, slowly stepping back. “—drugged?”

That faint scent in the air seemed to toy with him, making his breathing even heavier. The tight, shadowy space suddenly felt like it was heating up by the second.

She raised her phone, using the cool glow of the screen as a light. The sudden brightness made him flinch, brows drawing tight. He looked like he wanted to shield his eyes, but the most he could do was brace a hand against the wall.

That’s when Josephine finally got a good look at his face.He was stunning, the kind of clean-cut handsome that felt untouched by anything sleazy. His hands were slender, fair, and well-defined—perfect for flipping through books or dancing over piano keys. He gave off this calm, quiet vibe, the type you'd expect to keep his cool no matter what. And yet now, he was slumped in a corner with his face flushed deep red, beads of sweat dotting his forehead, and his brown eyes glazed, clouded with a rising heat that didn’t belong in this setting. Even the corners of his eyes had tinged pink, as if he was holding back something.

Damn. Wrong place, way wrong time.

She was originally hiding here to dodge those psycho foreign fans outside, thinking the restroom was a safe bet to wait it out. Joke’s on her. The real danger was clearly this stranger in front of her now.

"Can you hold on a bit longer?" Josephine Armstrong asked while dialing 911.

“...Just shut up. I can manage,” Lawton Carter gritted out, struggling to breathe properly.

Hearing the tension in his voice, Josephine didn’t push it. She zipped her lips.

"…Just back off, okay.”

She was already practically glued to the wall. Where else could she possibly go?

Noticing the storm brewing in his eyes, Josephine kept her cool. “Tiny bathroom, not much room to move. You'll have to tough it out.”

But seriously, this wasn’t something a regular person could endure. On top of whatever he was drugged with, there was also a beautiful woman standing right here, breathing in and out with that faint floral scent wafting around. Honestly, it was more dangerous than any pill he was on.

His vision began to blur; her silhouette started wavering in his eyes, ethereal and tempting. The scent in the air might as well have been an aphrodisiac. Heat surged through his whole body, wave after wave, slowly drowning what was left of his reason.

They were only half an arm apart. He started leaning in, his dark eyes burning, locked dead on her like he was being pulled in by a magnet.

“Mister, I already called 911. If you come any closer, I’ve got no problem calling the cops next.”

Josephine could feel her own face heating too—he was like a walking furnace. His scent, a mix of alcohol and tobacco, hit her hard but oddly wasn’t off-putting. The space was so cramped she couldn’t even fully lift her leg before he was standing right in front of her.

His strong thigh pinned her knee in place, and she couldn’t move at all. One arm blocked off her only retreat. No warning, just this overwhelming presence closing in. The air between them went thick.

His heavy breaths brushed right by her ear. Josephine turned her head, clutching her phone tight, ready to smack it across his head. But just as she raised it, a low grunt cut through the tension.

Startled, she watched as he suddenly pulled out a small silver knife from who knew where and, without thinking twice, stabbed it into his leg, dragging it just enough to break skin. Blood oozed out instantly.

The way he did it—quick, controlled, almost cold.

Still panting, Lawton leaned back against the corner, the flush on his face deep as ever, his gaze unsteady, teetering between clear-headed and dazed. "No need to call the cops now.”