Page 98 of Sweet Nightmare

Absolutely fucking not.

I’m not interested in women who look like they file complaints against sunlight. It’s something else. A pull I can’t explain. A flicker of recognition that has no business being there. Like hearing a song you haven’t listened to in years and somehow remembering every damn word.

“Goodnight, Khaos,” she whispers, so cold and void of emotion. I have the feeling she dislikes me just as much.

Which should be a relief. Instead, as I head toward my wing of the mansion, one thing refuses to leave my mind.

Those honey-gold eyes.

I have a feeling they are going to become a problem.

Shit.

chat

Stephen: The rude-as-fuck ice spawn showed up at my estate days early.

Junie: Is she as hot as she looks in photos?

Stephen: And who the fuck gives a shit about that? She has a smart fucking mouth. Get her out of here.

Junie: So… yes.

Stephen: That wasn’t an answer.

Junie: It absolutely was.

Junie: And a smart mouth you say? Oh, those are my favorites. That’s the type that bites.

Stephen:

twelve

. . .

The First Song

“I always wake up and choose violence.” — K

I leave the Ice Princess exactly where she belongs. On the opposite side of the estate and as far away from me as humanly possible.

There, she can spend the next few days without getting in my way until it’s time to wrap up the Turner Co. x Khaos collaboration and send her expensive ass back to wherever the hell she came from.

Problem solved or so I fucking hope.

Once she’s out of sight, I turn to Minho and give the man a proper greeting. We talk about the estate, the staff, and everything that’s happened while I’ve been stuck in Seoul.

Technically, he and Mrs. Han keep me updated through daily calls and messages.

Winter Storm was supposed to be my permanent home. That plan went to shit somewhere along the way. My career keeps me in Seoul more often than not. When I’m not there, I’m halfway across the world, bouncing between airports, hotels, studios, and stages. Always moving. Always working. Always surrounded by people who know my name but wouldn’t recognize me if I took off the fucking tattoos.

Winter Storm is different.

It’s the one place that still feels like mine.

After catching up with Minho, I head to my wing.

The second I step inside, some of the tension I’ve been carrying all day begins to ease.