#enablewretch1

You blink, stunned, your breath hitching as his words sink in. His proximity feels like a razor’s edge—dangerous and unyielding, but not cruel. His smirk, sharp and sardonic, doesn’t quite reach his eyes. There’s something deeper there, something raw and dark.

“If you’d said somethin’ that stupid to anyone else…” His voice trails off, and he shudders slightly, his lips pulling into a tight line. “They wouldn’t let it slide, Whore. They’d—” He cuts himself off again, his throat working as he swallows hard. “Doesn’t matter. You didn’t. Lucky you, huh?”

“I wouldn’t,” you manage to say, your voice quieter than you’d like. You clear your throat, steadying yourself under his gaze. “I wouldn’t say something like that to anyone else.”

He scoffs, but the sharpness in his expression softens—just barely. “Yea, yea, yea. ‘Cause I’m prince friggin’ charmin’, clearly.”

The sarcasm is thick, but there’s something in the way he says it, a thread of disbelief and maybe even relief. He pulls back slightly, giving you room to breathe, but his eyes stay locked on yours.

“Look,” he says finally, running a hand through his tangled hair. “I’ll let your stupidity slide this time. But next time, I’m cashin’ that check. So you better make damn sure you’re ready to deliver.”

The warning is sharp, his voice low and steady, but there’s no malice in it—only the brutal honesty that defines him. He steps back, shoving his hands into his pockets and glancing away.