The elevator opened with a ding, and the whole 54th floor practically shivered.
Because when I walked, like every marble I stepped on was scared of me. As if I owned them.
Which… I technically did.
Well—half of it.
The other half belonged to him.
Judah.
I slammed the glass door open, my heels echoing like gunshots.
Judah didn’t even flinch.
He was sitting in his expensive leather chair, spinning side-to-side like a bored child with too much power and not enough adult supervision.
He raised one eyebrow lazily.
“Someone’s dramatic.”
I threw my bag onto my desk with patience of a chicken.
“TWENTY DAYS.”
Judah kept spinning.
“Uh huh.”
“Twenty days she rejected me.”
He finally stopped spinning, only to spin the other direction.
“Tragic.”
“Is there something not enough in me?”
Judah snorted so loud it echoed.
“Twenty days?” he repeated under his breath.
“Wow. Dedication.”
I glared at him, deadly.
“If you say simp I will snap your kneecaps.”
Judah held up his hands in surrender which made me even more mad.
“Relax, Romeo. I’m just saying—most people you like end up scared or kidnapped within two days. This one’s… different.”
I collapsed into my chair, groaning dramatically.
“Judah… she said ‘NO’ without even blinking. She didn’t even look at me today. Like I’m some regular customer.”
“You did go fourteen times.”
I shot him a death glare.
Judah shrugged.
“I’m just saying. Even the coffee machine got tired of your face.”
I buried my face in my hands in defeat.
Only I could think was her luscious silver-blue strands of hair that looks like moonlight got tangled in it. Soft, glossy strands that fall around her face like she’s forever caught in some gentle spotlight. When she moves, it shifts between cool grey and this icy blue shimmer—like you could run your fingers through it and it’d feel cold at first, then warm up under your touch. It frames her so perfectly it’s almost unfair.
God, her eyes are dangerous. That pale crystal blue that hits you first with softness… then pulls you in like she’s reading every thought you’ve never said out loud. They’re sharp, almost feline, lined just enough to make her stare feel intentional—intense, intimate. It’s the kind of gaze that makes your heartbeat trip a little, like she’s looking right through you but also choosing you in that moment. When she blinks, it’s slow, deliberate, like she knows the effect she has.
“Why won’t she go out with me?”
Judah leaned back, lacing his hands behind his head.
“Maybe,” he said, voice annoyingly smug, “she’s not into mafia princesses.”
I froze.
Then slowly, I lifted my head.
“She doesn’t know I’m mafia.”
Judah blinked at me.
“…that was a JOKE, but okay.”
I slammed my desk.
“I just want her to like me normally! Before all the crime stuff!”
Judah rolled his chair forward so their desks almost touched.
“Xueke. Babe. Sweetheart. You kidnapped a guy last week because he didn’t return your pen.”
“He stole it.”
“No, he accidentally borrowed it.”
“He stole it with intention.”
“XUEKE—”
I cut him off, dramatic hand in the air.
“I am NORMAL ENOUGH.”
Judah game a look and returned back to spinning his stupid chair.
But,
Judah finally stopped spinning when I yanked him forward by his collar.
Hard.
His chair wheeled an entire meter across the floor.
“OW— WHAT—” Judah sputtered.
But I was staring at his neck.
More specifically… the red marks blooming along the side.
My eyes widened.
“OH. MY. GOD.”
“Judah, what have you been doing??”
Judah rolled his eyes like someone tired of being perceived.
“I have a sex life, you know.”
I gasped, dramatic hand on chest.
“YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND?!”
Judah jerked back, offended at the assumption.
“NO. Not a girlfriend. It was—” he waved a hand vaguely,
“—a fling.”
I slumped into my chair, rubbing my temples like he was the source of every headache ever.
Spoiler, HE WAS.
“Of course it was a fling. You’d never get a girlfriend with that bodycount.”
"That’s fancy coming from you.”
I scoffed, flipping my hair.
“Mine is yet less than yours.”
Judah leaned forward, squinting.
“How much less?”
I paused.
A little too long.
Judah smirked.
“Exactly.”
I threw a pen at him.
He dodged.
“Stop deflecting,” I snapped. “We are talking about YOU being… marked up like a cat toy.”
Judah shrugged, pushing his hair back casually.
“Well, unlike you spending twenty days chasing a barista who hates your guts… I enjoy my evenings.”
I glared at him so hard the glass wall behind him almost cracked.
“I WILL make her like me.”
Judah smirked.
“Sure. After all… your bodycount might be lower, but your rejection count? Sky high.”
“JUDAH I SWEAR—”
He's gonna get killed ♥︎.
Judah finally stood up from his chair, stretching like a cat who’d been annoying on purpose.
He grabbed his coat off the back of the chair turned to me and said,
almost too casually,
“How about we hit the bar tonight?”
I blinked. My brain screamed what the actual fuck???
He continued, smirking,
“Maybe it’ll make you stop crazing over that little blue birdie girl.”
I narrowed my eyes her making me almost scoff too loud.
“Her name is Momo you know?”
Judah shrugged. “Yeah yeah, Starbucks princess, I know. But seriously—”
He tapped my forehead with one finger.
“Your brain is fried. You need alcohol to reset it.”
I sighed dramatically he sure was damn right I wouldn't admit it sober I stood up, smoothing my blazer.
“A drink or two won’t hurt.”
Judah gave me a look.
“A drink or two for normal people won’t hurt. For you? You’ll be dancing on tables by the third cocktail.”
My cheeks burned red.
“That happened ONE time.”
Judah deadpanned, “It happened FOUR times, Xueke.”
I ignored that, grabbing my purse like a woman with unresolved feelings and too much money.
“Fine. Let’s go. But we’re not staying long.”
Judah smirked.
“Sure. I’m sure you won’t end your night calling Momo at two a.m. asking if Starbucks is open.”
I gasped, shoving him toward the elevator.
“JUDAH—”
He laughed, dodged, and hit the elevator button.
“Come on, lovergirl. Let’s get you hammered.”
The doors shut behind us.
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