He stood up abruptly, pulling her up with him thanks to the handcuffs, and pinned her against the wall. His grip on her wrist tightened.
Ni-ki leaned in closer, his voice a cold whisper. "You're playing with fire, angel. Don't think for a second tha...
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LATER THAT EVENING, Rhaine sat at the edge of her bed, her makeup wiped away, wearing an oversized t-shirt that hung loosely over her shoulders. She sighed, running a hand through her hair as she replayed everything from earlier that night.
Ni-ki's words, the way he looked at her with that familiar but somehow different intensity—it all lingered, refusing to fade even as she tried to shake it off.
She glanced at her phone, half-expecting a message from him. But there was nothing. Instead, her gaze drifted to his latest post. There it was—a photo of him at the event, his usual cool expression, surrounded by the buzz of high fashion, lights flashing. He looked as effortless as ever.
Yet as she swiped, her heart skipped. There, tucked into the carousel, was a single shot of the two of them standing side by side, his arm loosely around her shoulders.
Rhaine felt a surge of mixed emotions—was this another part of the act, or did it mean something? She leaned back against her pillows, staring at the image, wondering if she was the only one overthinking it, or if maybe, just maybe, there was something unspoken beneath the surface.
She hated how he made her feel.
No matter how hard she tried to brush it off, Ni-ki had a way of getting under her skin, of making her feel seen and unsettled all at once. And tonight, it had been different—more intense. She hated that his words lingered, that he could be so infuriating and yet somehow make her feel like the only person in the room.
She pulled her knees up to her chest, her gaze fixed on the dim glow of her phone. She didn't know why, but she wanted to text him, to continue whatever tension had sparked between them tonight. But instead, she set her phone aside, forcing herself to ignore the temptation.
She couldn't keep letting him get to her like this, not when she wasn't sure where it was all leading. It overwhelmed her.
Just then, a soft tapping echoed through her room.
She ignored it at first, thinking it was her imagination. But when it happened again, louder this time, her curiosity got the best of her. She pushed herself off the bed and moved to the window, only to see a small pebble bounce off the glass.
She leaned out, and there he was.
Ni-ki, still in his clothes from the PRADA event, standing below with that same infuriatingly confident facade, hands shoved into his pockets. His hair was slightly tousled, like he'd rushed over without thinking twice.
"Are you serious?" she whispered, her voice barely carrying down to him, a mix of disbelief and something else—a fluttering excitement she didn't want to admit to.
He shrugged. "I wasn't done talking to you."
She bit her lip, fighting the smile tugging at her mouth. "You could've just called, you know."
