CHAPTER- 5

1 MONTH LATER

Ace POV:

"You can't find him! Are you fucking kidding me?! Find him before I cut all your necks. Dismissed!" My voice reverberated through the room, each syllable sharp and lethal.

The tension in the air was palpable as everyone scrambled to avoid the brunt of my wrath, nodding in synchronized agreement before scattering like frightened animals.

The pressure was immense, and I could feel it in every muscle, every fiber of my being.

Hours of fruitless yelling had done nothing to quell the anger that simmered beneath the surface.

Noah's disappearance gnawed at me like a persistent itch that refused to be scratched. How could no one locate him?

The incompetence of my men was infuriating, but the thought of involving Liam, the best hacker in our group, was equally unsettling.

Liam could locate Noah within an hour—no question about it. He was a genius when it came to computers, a master at unearthing information that others would consider buried forever.

But if I involved him, it would bring unnecessary drama to my doorstep. The kind of drama I despise.

Hudson, in particular, didn't trust me when it came to girls. To him, I was just a fuck boy, a label I've come to resent.

Not that he's entirely wrong—I've had my fair share of women, but I always make sure it's consensual.

I never touch a virgin. If anything, I consider myself a gentleman in that regard. A fuck gentleman.

And about Iris... She was different.

She wasn't like the others. She wasn't someone I could easily categorize, and that alone kept me on edge.

She was always wandering around the house like a snail, moving silently through the corners, cleaning something, anything.

Silent, shy, and submissive— three traits I never thought I'd find intriguing, yet somehow, she managed to pique my curiosity.

"Boss," Ivan's voice cut through my thoughts as we pulled up to the mansion.

"I'm not deaf, Ivan," I replied calmly, though I could feel his glare.

It didn't matter; it's not like he never messes with me.

Stepping into the mansion, my eyes instinctively searched for the snail, but she was nowhere to be found. Disappointment flickered briefly within me, surprising me with its intensity.

I hated to admit it, but Iris had a way of amusing me, of keeping me curious in a life that had otherwise grown dull with routine and violence.

The last time I saw her, she was at the kitchen sink, immersed in a strange ritual.

The sink was filled with water, utensils floating aimlessly, and Iris was making two cups 'fight.'

"Who sent you here? Who is your boss?" she'd murmured, her voice barely audible as she pushed the cups under the water, making them bubble and sink.

It was an odd sight, yet strangely endearing. 

I'd watched her from the doorway, hidden from her view, captivated by her childlike playfulness, something so innocent and pure in a world where I'd long forgotten what innocence looked like.

I opened the bedroom door, half expecting to find her there, but the room was eerily empty, just as I had left it.

As I turned to leave, a faint sound, barely more than a whisper, caught my attention. It was soft, almost imperceptible, but there—sniffing sounds coming from the wardrobe.

I approached the wardrobe and hesitated for a moment before opening it. And there she was—curled up behind the hanging clothes, her small frame shaking with sobs.

She had pulled the hood of her dress over her head, hiding from the world, rubbing her nose with her sleeves like a child trying to wipe away the evidence of her tears.

Would it make me a sadist if I said I found her cute when she cried?

Not in a painful way, but in a way that made her seem vulnerable and endearing.

"What happened, Bambi? Why are you crying?" I asked, letting out a heavy sigh as I gently lifted her out of the cramped space. She felt so light in my arms, almost like she'd disappear if I wasn't careful.

How on earth did she fit inside that tiny area?

I placed her on my lap, her small body straddling mine as I pulled back the hood of her sweater. Her tear-streaked face came into view, eyes red and puffy, cheeks flushed from crying.

She looked up at me, those wide, tear-filled eyes searching mine for something— comfort, reassurance, anything to tell her that it would be okay.

"Can you tell me what happened? I'm not a patient person," I murmured, wiping her tears away with my thumb.

Her skin was warm and soft, a stark contrast to the rough callouses on my hands.

Fucking hell! She felt so delicate, so fragile in my lap, her softness reminding me of cotton.

"I-I broke your watch... w-while cleaning... I AM SO SORRY, PLEASE DON'T KILL ME," she blurted out, her voice shaking with fear.

She clung to my shirt, her tiny hands fisted tightly into the fabric as if she was holding on for dear life.

A watch?

She was crying like this over a broken watch? I could buy a thousand watches like that without blinking an eye, yet here she was, apologizing as if she had committed some grave sin.

"Well, I can buy thousands of watches like that, so stop crying. Can you?" I bounced my knees slightly, trying to calm her down.

She nodded, but her breathing was still ragged, her chest heaving as she tried to get herself under control. Her small frame shook with the effort.

"Really? Y-you're not m-mad at me?" Her voice was hoarse, her throat raw from crying. Her wide eyes, cheeks flushed and nose pink, were almost too much to bear.

She looked like a scared little rabbit, caught in a trap and unsure if it would be let go or killed.

"No, I'm not mad at you," I murmured, my thumb brushing gently over her tear-streaked cheeks.

My eyes traced the contours of her face, lingering on her delicate features. Her chubby cheeks, her slightly trembling lips, the way her brows furrowed in confusion.

She was undeniably pretty, with an innocence that was both alluring and dangerous.

Slowly, I cupped her cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin under my palm. Her face tilted slightly into my touch, her eyes searching mine, perhaps for an explanation she couldn't find in my words.

Her cheeks had a chubbiness to them, giving her an innocent, almost childlike appearance that made her seem even more endearing.

Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion, her eyes widening as she looked at my lips.

It was then that I realized something strange— my lips were curved into a smile.

A real, genuine smile. The unfamiliar sensation was almost jarring, and I quickly wiped it away, letting out a deep sigh.

Now, she would be here with me for another week, maybe more, until I found Noah. 

The thought of having her around was both a burden and an unexpected comfort.

"But the maids said... you don't like it if someone breaks your things," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

She kept her gaze firmly fixed on the floor, as if looking up could somehow worsen her already palpable fear.

Her efforts to appear brave were undermined by the quivering edge to her voice, making it clear just how deeply frightened she was. "I mean... you can kill me if you want, but can you make it less painful? Like... kill me in one go or no killing at all. There must be no in-between."

The earnestness in her plea was both absurdly innocent and profoundly moving.

Her desperation, so genuine and so completely out of proportion to the situation, made it almost impossible to maintain a stern demeanor. I found myself biting my lips, struggling to suppress the smile that threatened to emerge.

I leaned down, my expression softening. With deliberate care, I pulled her into a closer embrace, guiding her face to rest against my shoulder.

She didn't resist, but neither did she reciprocate the hug. Instead, she nestled her face into the crook of my neck, her small body seeking refuge against mine as if it were the safest place in the world.

I rubbed her back gently, my hand moving in slow, comforting circles. Her heart raced so fast that I could feel it thudding against my chest with each beat.

Poor bambina, I had scared her so much.

As the minutes passed, her sobbing gradually subsided into soft, intermittent sniffles.

She remained hidden against my neck, her face buried in the crook as if she were drawing peace and solace from my presence.

I could feel her eyelashes fluttering against my skin with each blink, the sensation, a gentle tickle that only added to the strangely atmosphere between us.

Her hot breaths continued to warm my neck, the heat making me shiver in a way that was both unfamiliar and unexpectedly pleasant.

I had never held someone like this before, never offered or received such tender comfort.

The warmth of her body against mine was oddly...comforting, and I found myself relishing this unexpected closeness.

This was a new experience for me; a girl sitting on my lap and hugging me for comfort, rather than fucking me or any physical encounters I was used to.

There was a knock on the door that interrupted our moment. Dammit.

Iris, sensing the shift, raised her head from my neck and rubbed her nose, her eyes blinking away the last traces of her tears.

Our faces were so close that I could feel the warm, soft puffs of her breath against my temple.

Her eyes, large and expressive, were dark, but not in the way that hinted at lust or any lewd desire– Only a peaceful darkness, like the still, tranquil depths of the sea, like the peaceful, undisturbed waters of a calm sea.

"Boss, are you there?" Ivan's voice rang out loudly from the other side of the door, cutting through the silence that had enveloped us.

I forced myself to tear my gaze away from Iris's mesmerizing eyes, and she, too, pulled back, getting up with surprising ease.

Her demeanor was unexpectedly peaceful, almost serene, despite the situation.

There was no trace of embarrassment on her face, which was almost bewildering given the context of our close proximity.

"Come in," I said, my voice steady as I quickly adjusted my suit to regain my composure.

Ivan entered the room, his eyes immediately scanning the scene before him.

He looked at us with a mix of confusion and curiosity, his eyebrows knitting together as he tried to make sense of the situation.

To anyone else, it might have looked like something far more significant was happening.

"The files you asked for... boss," he murmured, his voice hesitant as he handed me the stack of documents.

He gave us one more suspicious glance before quickly retreating from the room, leaving us alone once more.

"You look so cool, like you didn't just sit on someone's lap," I blurted out, my words tumbling out before I could filter them.

"W-Well, we are now friends... because you hugged me, so I-I don't think I should be embarrassed... about anything," she said. Her voice was steady, though it carried a trace of hesitation as she stared at me with those deep, calm eyes.

"OK... so you're saying that's how friends behave?" I confirmed, struggling to wrap my head around her logic.

Did she really believe that what had just happened between us was typical of friendship?

"Yeah..." Iris confirmed, her voice unwavering. Her calm demeanor and straightforward response only served to amplify my frustration.

I could feel irritation simmering beneath the surface, a gnawing sense of discomfort that was hard to ignore.

My patience was wearing thin, and I found myself struggling to maintain control over my emotions.

I let out a deep sigh, trying to suppress the frustration that was rising within me.

The feeling was like an itch that I couldn't scratch, making it increasingly difficult to stay calm and composed.

"Whatever happened here is nothing," I said, my voice taking on a stern edge. "So don't think something else and maintain a good distance from me because you work here and I am the boss, you understand?"

I don't know with whom she said this and done god knows what.

"I said, do you understand, whore?" I repeated, my anger taking over. The harshness of my words cut through the air, and as soon as they left my mouth, I felt a wave of regret.

"...Y-Yes sir," she whispered, her voice trembling and filled with a hint of hurt.

I watched as she turned to leave, I noticed the small, hurt pout on her lips, a subtle yet poignant expression of her distress.

As she walked away, I felt a strange pang of emotion in my chest. It was a mix of regret and something else—something I couldn't quite define.

Her retreating figure left me with a sense of unease, but I quickly pushed those feelings aside, focusing instead on the task at hand.

I turned my attention to the shipment files that Ivan had delivered, determined to immerse myself in work.

I needed to bury myself in these documents, to escape the disorienting emotions Iris had stirred within me.