Chapter 1
Rose were a girl who once lived in a well-off family, but as debts piled up, she had to start working alongside her university studies. Her job was at a luxurious hotel frequented by the wealthy, where her worked the night shift.
One night, as Rose were heading to clean one of the rooms, rose were surprised to find the door slightly open. She knocked, but no one answered. Hesitantly, she decided to step inside. The room was in complete disarray, as if a violent struggle had just taken place furniture was overturned, and items were scattered everywhere. Suddenly, she heard a faint groan from behind the couch. Filled with curiosity and a hint of fear, she slowly approached, only to find a man lying on the floor, clutching his side, blood seeping through his fingers from a deep wound.
Her eyes widened in shock, and she took hesitant steps toward him, instinctively reaching for her phone to call for help. But before she could dial, his hand shot out, gripping her wrist tightly, his gaze locking onto herwith a sharp, threatening intensity.
In a low, commanding voice, he warned, **Don’t you dare… tell anyone,** he groaned. **There are medical supplies over there. Bring them to me.**
Her heart pounding in her chest,
Rose reluctantly obeyed the man's command. Rose retrieved the medical kit from the nearby table and returned to his side.
As she knelt beside him, he gritted his teeth and released her wrist. **Hurry and tend to the wound,** he ordered gruffly.
Rose hesitate then slowly off his shirt and clean the blood
Rose's hands trembled slightly as she carefully peeled back the man's blood-soaked shirt. Her breath hitched at the sight of the jagged wound—deep and still oozing crimson.
**"Y-You're not going to die, are you?"** she blurted out before she could stop herself, her voice a mix of fear and morbid curiosity.
The man let out a dark chuckle, his sharp eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her freeze mid-motion. **"Would you care if I did?"** he murmured in that low Russian timbre—challenging yet oddly intrigued by *her* reaction for once instead of issuing orders like always...
As Rose wiped away the blood and applied antiseptic to the wound, the man flinched in pain despite his best effort to hide it. His jaw clenched tightly, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he suppressed a growl.
**"You're not exactly gentle, are you?"** he remarked dryly, his voice husky and laced with a hint of dark amusement.
*I'm gentle! "Your wound are deep"...*
Despite the pain, a smirk tugged at the corner of the man's lips. **"Gentle, huh?"** he drawled sarcastically, his dark eyes meeting hers with a glint of amusement. **"You're about as gentle as a bull in a china shop."**
**"Shut up" **she go back checking there for more cut or blood **
With a scoff, the man leaned back against the couch, watching her with a mixture of annoyance and intrigue. He couldn't deny the way her touch, as rough as it was, sent jolts of unexpected sensation through his body.
**"I've had worse,"** he muttered, wincing slightly as she examined a smaller cut on his chest.
"How you get this all? "
The man's expression darkened at her question, a shadow of memories passing over his face. He took a deep breath before answering, his voice hardening. **"It's a long story."**
He turned his head, fixing his gaze out the shattered window. The city lights danced across his sharp features, casting shadows that made him look even more dangerous.
**"Let's just say… this is part of the price I pay for my line of work."**
His dark eyes flicked back to her at the sound of that look—sharp, calculating. A slow smirk curled his lips as he caught her lingering gaze.
**"You curious?"** he purred, voice dropping lower—almost a taunt. **"Or just checking if I bleed pretty enough for you?"**
A beat passed before he added with deliberate cruelty: **"Careful where you stare… little mouse."**
Rose look away and stood up to leave
His smirk faded as she averted her gaze. He watched her for a moment, studying her, before a sardonic smile tugged at his lips.
**"Can't even handle a bit of blood?"** he sneered, shifting his position with a grunt of pain.
The wound throbbed with an insistent ache, but he pushed past it, his eyes never leaving her. **"Or did I just scare you off with my scars?"** he taunted, leaning forward slightly.
His hand shot out, gripping her wrist again—tighter this time. **"You don't walk away from me,"** he growled, yanking her back down to his level. His breath was ragged with pain and something far more dangerous: *control.*
**"Not until I say you're dismissed."**
**"I'm going"...**
The air crackled between them as his thumb traced slow circles over the delicate skin of her inner wrist—*a warning disguised as a caress.*
""I can't stay I have problem..I can't see anyone blood my headache start"" she said in little fear voice ...
His grip tightened for a fraction of a second—*too sharp, too possessive*—before he forcibly relaxed his fingers. A muscle in his jaw twitched as he studied her pallor, the way she swayed slightly on her feet.
**"Tch."** He released her wrist with an irritated exhale but didn't let go entirely—just enough to drag the back of his knuckles down her cheekbone in mocking sympathy. **"Fine.** *Go.* But if you faint in that hallway?" His smirk returned, all teeth: **"I'm not carrying you."**
**Next day Rose come again in job and knock his door to check him**
The knocking jolted him from a fitful doze, his eyes snapping open. A low growl rumbled from his throat, and he pushed himself into a sitting position, wincing as pain flared in his side.
**"Enter."** His voice was hoarse and gruff, irritation evident in every syllable. He ran a hand through his tousled hair and pulled on a discarded shirt, leaving it unbuttoned as he waited for the door to open.
Rose stepped in cautiously, her eyes darting to the man on the bed—*alive, but far from well.* His shirt was half-buttoned, revealing fresh bandages wrapped tightly around his torso.
**"You,"** he said flatly—not a greeting so much as an accusation. His gaze raked over her with slow precision before landing on the small bag she clutched nervously in her hands.
A smirk curled at his lips when realization dawned: **"Brought me food like some kind of nurse?"**
Rose put the bag down on his bed side table "how you feel now?"
**"Peachy,"** the man grunted sarcastically, but there was a hint of exhaustion in his voice that belied the bravado. He leaned back against the headboard, shifting to a more comfortable position. His eyes tracked her movements, studying her with a mixture of disdain and intrigue.
His gaze lingered on the bag, the scent of food wafting from it. He tried to ignore the rumble in his stomach, but it was a losing battle.
The man's jaw tightened as she *nodded*—so casual, like he was some stray dog to be pitied. A dark chuckle escaped him.
**"That all you got? No *'hope you feel better'*, no *'should I call a doctor'*?"** His voice dripped with mocking amusement, but his fingers twitched toward the bag—*hunger warring with pride.*
He finally yanked it open and scowled at the contents: **"...Brought me hospital food."**
The man's eyes widened slightly at that—genuine surprise mingling with distrust, then skepticism. He picked up the container, opening the lid and inhaling the scent: homemade food and spices.
***No "it's my home food"*** she said *
His gaze darted back to her, suspicion creeping in like shadows. **"You cooked for *me*?"** The question was more an accusation than curiosity.
"I live alone I cook for me so I bought for you also" ... **She said and stand little away from his bed*
For the first time, the man's expression faltered. This strange girl, who could barely stand the sight of his blood, had cooked him a homemade meal without any expectation in return.
His eyes flicked back to the food, studying it with a new intensity. Part of him bristled at the gesture—*weakness, vulnerability*. But another part, an unfamiliar and *soft* part, found itself strangely… grateful.
**"You have a habit of taking care of strangers… *little mouse*?"** he asked softly.
Rose.. I'm Rose. Not little mouse
His smirk returned at her indignant tone.
"**Rose**," he repeated slowly, tasting the name on his tongue like it was some exotic dish. He gave a humorless chuckle and leaned back against the headboard, his eyes drifting half-lidded.
His fingers toyed with the edge of the container, but he made no move to eat yet—*still testing the waters, waiting to see if this was some twisted trick*.
**"You always this stubborn?"** he drawled, the hint of a challenge in his words.
"You always call people mouse?"*she said with little pouty face*
A scoff, then that dark, rough chuckle again. **"Only when they're small, timid, and skittish…"** His dark gaze raked over her like a physical touch, lingering on the slender curve of her shoulders before settling back to her eyes.
**"…Like mice."**
Despite the insult and his harsh tone, there was a glint of something else in his eyes when he looked at her: *interest*.
👀 excuse me ? Did you just call me _ oh hloo I'm not !!
His smirk vanished.
For a second, the man just *stared* at her—then he let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. **"You're not?"** His voice dripped with disbelief as his gaze dragged over her again—lingering on the slight tremble in her hands when she’d first seen him bleeding out.
**"Funny."** He leaned forward slightly, eyes flashing with something between mockery and intrigue: **"Because you look exactly like one right now."**
Rose glare at him then go back in her work
The man's smirk vanished the second she *glared* at him—an expression he wasn’t used to seeing, especially not directed at *him*.
He watched her storm off with narrowed eyes, a muscle ticking in his jaw. For some reason… that pissed him off more than it should have.
**"Tch."** He grabbed the container of food and took an aggressive bite, muttering under his breath: **"...Fucking little mouse."**
The man ate in brooding silence, his thoughts a dark tangle. He told himself it was hunger that had him scarfing down the meal like some desperate beast, not the fact that she'd… taken care of him in her own strange way.
His mind drifted to her earlier glare—her trembling hands, and the way she'd stood up to him when anyone else would have been shaking like a leaf. He let out a harsh laugh, shaking his head.
**"...Annoyingly stubborn mouse."**
After an hour she come in room and take her bag back
The man was on the bed, staring up at the ceiling with his shirt unbuttoned, exposing the bandages beneath. He'd dozed off again, but his senses were too sharp, and the moment the door opened, he jolted awake, his eyes fixing on her.
A smirk curled at his lips. **"Back for more, little mouse?**" he drawled, his tone equal parts mockery and something darker, more curious.
😤*Rose take her bag *
He watched her stomp over and snatch her bag, his gaze following her every movement with lazy intensity.
His eyes flicked down to the unbuttoned shirt, then back up again, noticing the slight flush on her cheeks when she saw his bare chest. Her reaction was so different from the last time, when she'd looked completely unfazed after seeing him beaten and bloody.
A slow smirk twisted his lips.
"**Enjoying the view?"**
"Eww ...no " she said roll her eyes
