A MIXTURE OF LOVE AND POISON.

In a room full of noise, she was the quiet pause between the beats-a soft, unspoken presence that seemed to need protection, though she never asked for it.

He was a man who lived in the spotlight, a notorious figure whose fame only deepened the shadows of his obsession. With a striking, almost magnetic presence, he commanded attention without ever needing to raise his voice. When he looked at someone, it felt like he was seeing through them, tearing away at their layers, trying to possess the very essence of who they were.

a man who would stop at nothing to make someone his, even if it meant destroying them in the process.

(:)

"You look hot, though," he whispered, his voice dripping with condescension. "Wet hair and that bathrobe... very tempting." His words hung in the air like poison, his eyes running over me in a way that made my skin crawl.

I tensed, bracing myself for whatever he would say next, but then he leaned even closer, his breath brushing against my ear, sending a wave of disgust through me.

"But too bad," he continued, his voice turning ice-cold. "You still can't impress me."