Chapter 0005

1 MONTH LATER

Ace POV:

"You can’t find him! Are you fucking kidding me?!" I barked, my voice echoing off the walls, each word sharp and laced with lethal anger.

The room went completely still for a split second, the tension thick enough to slice through.

My eyes darted from one man to the next, scanning their faces for signs of defiance or incompetence. "Find him, now, before I cut all your necks. Dismissed!"

The last word rang through the air like a death sentence, and the room exploded into a flurry of movement.

Everyone scrambled to avoid my wrath, nodding in synchronization as they rushed to get out of my line of sight, their footsteps hurried and frantic.

I hated feeling this out of control, but Noah’s disappearance was driving me to the edge.

Hours of fruitless yelling had done nothing to calm the storm that raged inside me.

How the hell had he just vanished without a trace?

The incompetence of my men made it worse. They were supposed to be the best, but right now, they were nothing but a damn joke.

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

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 means all my friends would be involved too, it would bring unnecessary drama to my doorstep.

The kind of drama I despise. It would be loud, chaotic, and messy.

Hudson would be the hardest to explain. He never trusted me when it came to girls.

To him, I was just a fuckboy— a label I hated, but one that had followed me for too long to avoid.

And maybe he wasn’t entirely wrong.

I’d had my fair share of women, more than I cared to admit.

But I always made sure it was consensual. I never touched a virgin. Never.

If anything, I thought of myself as a gentleman in that regard— a play gentleman.

And about Iris...

The thought of her made my stomach tighten. 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.

I knew better than to let my guard down, especially around someone like her.

"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.

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.

It irked me, how much I had come to expect her around.

I hated to admit it, but Iris had a way of keeping me on edge, of amusing me in ways that no one else did.

She was a nuisance—there was no denying that—but in a world so filled with bloodshed and routine, her habits stood out.

She kept me curious, kept me wondering what the hell she would do next.

In the past month, I’d noticed something strange: every night, she would sleep on the couch as I ordered but her gaze fixed on me like a small, mischievous witch.

It was creepy, but there was something about the way she watched me. Like she knew something I didn’t.

The last time I saw her, she was in the kitchen, of all places. The sight had stuck with me.

She was standing by the sink, her hands moving in strange, deliberate motions.

The sink was filled with water, and I saw utensils floating like abandoned toys. And then there she was, making cups fight.

I had been about to walk away when I heard her softly murmur, “Back off, fools.”

Then, louder, as she pushed the cups against each other, “No, march forward!!”

It had been absurd. Ridiculous. And yet… there was something oddly endearing about it.

Watching her move the cups with such purpose, as if they were soldiers in a battle, made me pause.

I had stayed hidden in the hallway, watching her with a mix of disbelief and curiosity.

There was something in her—the innocence, the purity—that felt so foreign in this place.

In a world where violence and manipulation ruled, Iris was an anomaly.

But still, I find her a nuisance.

Now, stepping into the bedroom, I half-expected to find her there. Maybe curled up in the corner of the room, maybe on the couch.

But the room was exactly as I had left it—eerily still, untouched. No sign of her.

Disappointment crept in again, sharper this time.

As I turned to leave, something caught my ear—a faint sound, barely a whisper, but unmistakable. Sniffing. Soft, tremulous, like a muffled sob.

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.

Why the hell is she sitting there? Did she steal something?

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.

I let out a heavy sigh, exasperated by the situation, but still unable to ignore her.

“What happened? Why are you crying?” I asked, my voice low, irritated, yet softer than I intended.

I reached down and gently lifted her from 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, my voice cold as I wiped the tears from her face with my thumb.

Her skin was warm and soft, a stark contrast to the rough calluses 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…” she stammered, her voice trembling with fear, "I AM SO SORRY, PLEASE DON’T KILL ME!!!"

Hell, my ears.

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," I said, trying to keep my tone even, bouncing my knees slightly in an attempt 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?" she asked, her voice hoarse, as if her throat was raw from all the crying.

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 voice softer than it should’ve been, my thumb brushing against 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 and peaceful.

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.

I gulped, and before I even realized it, my fingers were tracing the outline of her cheek.

Her skin was so bouncy, so soft, and I found myself lingering there a little too long.

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 small one. But 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 unsettling and an unexpected burden.

"B-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 down, as if looking up could somehow worsen her already palpable fear.

"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.

Was she genuinely convinced that I’d take her life over a broken watch?

Her desperation, so genuine and so completely out of proportion to the situation, made it almost impossible to maintain a stern demeanor.

"And before killing me, please pray that in my next life, I should not be born as a human at any cost," she added, her voice so soft, yet so desperate. "I want to be a puppy, frog, and a rock."

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 placed my hand over the back of her head and guided her face to rest against my shoulder.

Wrapping my arms around her, I exhaled deeply.

She didn't resist, but neither did she reciprocate. 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 girl, I had scared her so much.

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

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.

The warmth of her body against mine was oddly...warm, 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 raised her head from my neck and rubbed her nose, her eyes blinking away the last traces of her dried 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.

I couldn’t recall the last time I’d seen eyes like that—eyes that held no malice, no bitterness, just… peaceful quiet.

"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 couldn’t let this moment drag on. I wasn’t the kind of person who could—who should—be this close to someone. Certainly not her.

I forced myself to tear my gaze away from her 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.

The door creaked open, and Ivan stepped inside, his eyes immediately scanning the room, as if searching for something.

His gaze flickered between me and Iris, taking in the scene. He paused for a moment, eyebrow cocked, a confused frown pulling at his features.

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 of anything 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.

Did I really fall for her innocent trap facade? NO.

"I said, do you understand?" I repeated, my tone colder now, my patience fraying.

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.