Neville was reminded that he didn’t have work for these seven days. Therefore, saying that he had work was just asking for a beating.

But it made him curious, how many days has it been, really? How many of those days had already passed? How many more did he have to survive?

The silence that followed was deafening.

Neville stood frozen in the middle of the room, completely out of excuses. All of them were dismantled easily. But his escape route was not too far away. He couldn’t get away since someone in front of him showed no intention of letting him leave.

Grayson’s expression changed. The playful amusement faded on his face, and was replaced by something that looked almost like... he’s hurt?

His brows drew together slightly, and his lips pressed into a thin line. He resembled that of an abandoned puppy. A six-foot-three, extremely handsome and muscular, definitely dangerous abandoned puppy.

But an abandoned puppy nonetheless.

Neville felt his resolve crumbling.

No. Stay strong. You cannot be swayed by—

Grayson’s lower lip trembled, just enough to be visible.

—by absolutely nothing. Neville continued to brainwash himself. You are made of stone. An impenetrable fortress of willpower and determination—

The CEO of Maxwell Corporation, the villain of this world, the most feared alpha in the Imperial Star, looked at Neville with the expression of a kicked dog and said nothing.

He didn’t even need to say anything.

The message was clear: You’re leaving me?

Neville’s fortress of willpower collapsed like a house of cards in a hurricane.

Damn it.

His shoulders slumped in defeat.

With the resignation of a man walking to his own execution, Neville shuffled back toward the bed. His legs still trembled with every step, his body still ached in places too ambiguous to mention, and his dignity was in tatters on the floor somewhere.

But he still went back.

He climbed back onto the bed with gloomy enthusiasm and flopped down onto his back. He stared at the ceiling with a blank expression.

The bed dipped as Grayson moved over.

Neville felt the warm naked body of Grayson as he turned toward him. A warm hand settled on his hip, and then Grayson pulled him close. He tucked Neville’s smaller body against his chest in a possessive back embrace.

As soon as they got closer, Grayson’s fresh water pheromones washed over him, completely enveloping him with an endless amount of pheromones.

Despite his lingering embarrassment, Neville felt some of the tension drain from his muscles. Grayson’s body heat seeped into his sore limbs, soothing aches as if they didn’t exist.

Grayson nosed landed between his neck and shoulder, pressing a gentle kiss to the sensitive skin there.

"It’s still early," he murmured against Neville’s skin, his voice a low rumble. "Go back to sleep."

Neville’s eyebrow twitched.

Early? How could it be early? He didn’t even know what day it was. For all he knew, they had been in this room for a week already.

Carefully, trying not to draw attention to his movements, he moved his arm to reach and activate his light brain. The holographic interface flickered to life above his wrist, displaying—

A warm hand caught his, gently but firmly pressing down to deactivate the device.

Neville froze and was confused.

But Grayson didn’t answer. He just lifted his captured hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of Neville’s knuckles.

"Sleep," he repeated, his breath warm against Neville’s skin.

It wasn’t a request. Neville’s lips pressed together in a stubborn line. He was a grown man. He refused to be ordered around like a—

Grayson suddenly moved behind him.

Specifically, his hips moved.

That impressive hardness pressed more firmly against the curve of Neville’s backside, nestling between his buttocks with a familiarity that made his face burst into flames. His body was starting to heat up around that part, too.

"If you’re not sleepy," Grayson’s voice dropped even lower, taking on a husky quality that sent shivers down Neville’s spine, "we can do something else."

Neville went completely still.

Every muscle in his body locked up. His breath caught in his throat. His heart hammered against his ribcage like it was trying to escape.

The meaning was crystal clear and clearly received.

Behind him, Grayson chuckled. The sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating against Neville’s back.

It was the sound of a man who was thoroughly enjoying himself at someone else’s expense.

"Sleep," Grayson repeated for the third time with amusement in his tone. He pressed a kiss to the back of Neville’s head, his lips lingering against the soft strands of hazel-brown hair. "I’ll wake you when it’s time to eat."

Neville didn’t respond.

He couldn’t respond.

He was too busy lying perfectly motionless, not daring to move a single muscle, terrified that any movement might be interpreted as an invitation for "something else."

His body was still sore. His mind was still coming to terms with this situation, and his deeply wounded dignity was still lying in pieces on the floor.

He absolutely could not handle another round.

Although some traitorous part of his brain, Grayson had been very, very good at what he d—

NO.

Neville slammed the door on that line of thinking and threw away the key.

Behind him, Grayson’s breathing gradually slowed and deepened, the tension in his body easing as he drifted back toward sleep. His arm remained firmly wrapped around Neville’s waist, his legs tangled with Neville’s beneath the blanket, their bodies pressed together from shoulder to ankle.

It should have felt suffocating.

Instead, it felt warm like being cradled preciously.

Neville’s eyes, hidden behind his closed lids, stung with an emotion.

This is just the rut talking, he told himself firmly. He’s not in his right mind.

The words rang hollow, even in his own head.

After my sacrifice, we’ll pretend this never happened, he continued, even as his eyelids grew heavier. Everything will go back to normal.

But even as he thought it like that, a small, treacherous part of him hoped that wasn’t true.