""What’s inside that head of yours? Do you even have a brain?" Zachary grumbled, giving her forehead a sharp, yet careful flick.

Charlotte winced, her face flushing with a mix of shame and lingering fear. "But he looked exactly like you! He was driving your car, wearing your mask, even the license plates matched! How was I supposed to know?" She paused, her mind racing with a hundred new questions. "Wait... why was he driving your car? If he went through the trouble of replicating your mask and your entire identity, how could he possibly—"

"And that’s your excuse for getting the wrong man?" Zachary cut her off, his voice dropping into a crude, dangerous register. "You were really going to let him f*ck you, weren't you?"

"No! I wasn't!" Charlotte shook her head frantically, her eyes wide with earnestness. "He didn't even touch me! I—"

"If I hadn’t arrived when I did..."

Zachary exhaled sharply, the mere thought of it sending a fresh wave of fury through his veins. Before she could finish her sentence, he reached out, gripped her face roughly, and crashed his lips onto hers.

"Mmph..."

Charlotte tried to push against his chest, but her heart had already betrayed her. His kiss wasn't a gentle consolation; it was a storm. It felt like a punishment, a primitive claim meant to scour away every trace of that impostor and replace it with his own mark. He kissed her until she felt dizzy, until the only thing she could sense was his scent and the demanding pressure of his mouth.

She eventually went limp in his arms, her resistance melting into a weak, silent submission. As they clung to each other, she felt his breath grow heavy and jagged. Beneath the fabric of their clothes, the unmistakable evidence of his desire pressed hard against her, sending her pulse into a frantic gallop.

Startled, she tried to create some distance, but he was unwilling to let go. He traced her swollen lower lip with his thumb, his gaze dark and unreadable.

"Promise me," he rasped, his voice thick with a hunger he was struggling to contain. "This is the last time. If you ever do something this reckless again, don't expect me to be there to save you."

"I promise! I promise!" Charlotte nodded fervently. "I’ll never do it again."

As she leaned her forehead against his, she finally realized the truth: even with the same mask and the same car, there was an essence to him that no one could replicate. His scent, the cold weight of his gaze, the low vibration of his voice—he was her one and only.

"Little idiot," he murmured, his tone softening into something almost loving as he ran his fingers through her hair.

Internally, Zachary was beginning to doubt his own sanity. She’s a troublesome, infuriating woman who should disgust me... so why can't I stop thinking about her? Why am I constantly looking over my shoulder for her? What the hell is happening to me?

Charlotte leaned into him like a puppy seeking warmth, the steady, powerful thrum of his heartbeat acting as her anchor. The air in the room grew thick and hazy, a fuzzy warmth settling over them both.

As Zachary’s hand slid over her smooth shoulder, he felt the fire within him flare up again.

"Gigolo..." Charlotte whispered suddenly. "Are you really... just a Gigolo?"

Zachary’s fingers stiffened against her skin. He pulled back slightly, a frown marring his features. "What the f*ck are you talking about now?"

"Oh, how I wish you weren't..." Charlotte sighed, her voice wistful. If only he weren't a gigolo. If he could just love my kids, we could be a happy family of seven...

"Then who do you wish I was?" It was a question he had never let himself ask.

"Anyone else. Just someone with a normal life," she replied softly. "Even if you were a taxi driver, a security guard, or just some office employee... I’d be fine with it. As long as it was just you."

Zachary was rendered speechless.

His brow furrowed deeper. It was clear she still hadn't connected the dots between the "Gigolo" and the President of the Nacht Group. Is her denseness a curse, or a blessing? he wondered. At least this way, I can keep the act going a little longer...

"Alright," he said abruptly, his voice tight. "Let’s sleep."

He sat up and lifted her easily, carrying her over to the bed. As Charlotte reached out to pull up the blanket, she accidentally caught the edge of the bathrobe wrapped loosely around him. Realizing he was completely naked underneath, her face turned the color of a ripe tomato, and she scrambled to the other side of the bed.

Zachary didn't let her get far. He pulled her back into his embrace, his long, muscular arms locking her firmly against his chest.

"Stop moving," he warned, his voice low and dangerous against her ear. "Otherwise, I can't guarantee I'll be able to control myself."