( Roses, Ego, and a Very Possessive CEO)
If confidence had a sound, it would be the click of Aria Larkspur's heels as she stepped off stage—calm, unbothered, and dangerously aware of the chaos she'd just caused.
The applause still echoed faintly behind her.
Good. Let them suffer.
She gathered the hem of her grey-blue dress with practiced elegance, slipping backstage before anyone could corner her with questions like "Who are you?" or worse, "Can I get your number?"
Hard pass. Try again in another lifetime.
The moment she crossed into the dressing room, the door shut behind her—and suddenly, the world shrank to one very intense man.
Ethan Vale.
Correction: Ethan Vale, CEO of Vale Cooperation, currently looking like he wanted to either interrogate her… or lock her in a vault.
Aria blinked slowly.
Oh, this should be fun.
Before she could say anything, his hand landed on her waist—firm, steady, like he was grounding himself.
Or claiming territory.
"Careful," he muttered, voice low, as she almost stepped on her skirt.
Wow. From ice king to personal bodyguard. Character development is beautiful.
Her wig brushed against his arm as she straightened, strands sliding like silk. She caught the flicker in his eyes.
Hooked.
Nice.
---
Aria's POV
Let's evaluate.
Performance: flawless.
Audience reaction: borderline worship.
Ethan's expression: priceless.
Trust level?
"System?" she asked internally.
[81%]
"…Excuse me?"
She nearly smiled out loud.
All that effort for one percent? I deserve a refund.
Still—his reaction said otherwise.
So either the system was stingy… or Ethan Vale had emotional trust issues the size of a continent.
Noted. Will exploit later.
---
She turned toward the mirror, already peeling off an earring.
"This makeup is suffocating," she muttered, grabbing a wipe and scrubbing her face with zero mercy.
Ethan's hand shot out mid-scrub.
"Stop."
She paused, eyebrow lifting. "Problem?"
"Yes." His tone sharpened. "Your face isn't a battlefield."
"…Relax, CEO Vale. It's called efficiency."
"It's called self-destruction," he shot back, taking the wipe from her.
Savage.
She smirked slightly. Oh, he's learning.
He added makeup remover properly this time, his touch unexpectedly gentle.
"Look up."
She did.
"Close your eyes."
She obeyed.
Why does this feel more intimate than the performance…
Annoying.
---
"Why did you go on stage?" he asked, focused.
"Your assistant—Lucas—looked like he was about to pass out," she replied casually. "Someone had to save your company's reputation."
A pause.
"…You volunteered?"
"Obviously." She opened one eye slightly. "Or should I have let Vale Cooperation trend for incompetence?"
"…You're insufferable."
"And yet, here I am. Saving your image."
Touché.
---
Once her face was clean, she studied her reflection—bare, unfiltered.
Then she turned to him.
"Was I pretty?"
Direct. No warning.
Ethan froze.
For a man who negotiated billion-dollar deals, this question clearly hit harder.
Aria tilted her head. "Careful. This determines your fate."
"…You already know the answer."
"No," she said calmly. "I want your answer."
Not the world's.
His.
There it was again—that subtle tension.
Like he was standing at the edge of something… and refusing to jump.
He didn't speak.
And for once—
Aria's smile faltered.
Just a little.
"Right," she said lightly, looking away. "Guess the audience's opinion matters more anyway."
Coward.
Before he could respond—
Knock.
The door opened.
---
A group of staff entered, arms full of bouquets.
Lilies. Tulips. Roses.
So many roses.
"Um… these are for the performer earlier," one girl said nervously.
Ethan moved instantly, stepping in front of Aria like a human shield.
His expression?
Cold enough to freeze hell.
"Leave them."
No hesitation. No warmth.
Just authority.
The girls dropped the flowers and practically fled.
Silence returned.
---
Aria peeked from behind him, amused.
"Wow," she muttered. "You scared them more than my performance."
"They were staring."
"And?"
"And I didn't like it."
She blinked.
Then slowly—very slowly—smiled.
Possessive. Noted.
---
She walked to the table, picking up a card.
"I see all beings as ordinary… but you are my exception."
She snorted. "Creative. Slightly dramatic. Could use editing."
Another card.
"Call me."
She raised a brow. "Bold. Delusional."
Then she held up a cute cartoon sketch.
"How about this one?" she asked, grinning. "Looks like me, right?"
Ethan's jaw tightened.
"No."
"Liar."
"It doesn't."
"You're just jealous someone else has artistic talent."
"…I own an entire design division."
"And yet, no fan art."
Silence.
Victory.
---
Lucas entered at the worst possible moment.
"Sir, should I—oh."
He looked between them.
Then at the flowers.
Then back at Ethan's face.
…I choose life, his soul whispered.
"Car's ready," he said quickly.
"Good," Ethan replied immediately.
Aria pointed at the bouquets. "Take these too."
Lucas froze.
He glanced at Ethan.
Bad idea.
Very bad idea.
If looks could fire employees, he'd be unemployed already.
Thinking fast, he coughed. "Actually… these are, uh… company props."
Aria turned slowly. "Props."
"Yes."
"With handwritten confessions?"
"…Method acting?"
She narrowed her eyes.
Lucas smiled like a man on the edge of collapse.
"Convincing, right?"
---
Before she could continue, Ethan stepped in smoothly.
"If you like flowers, I'll send you fresh ones daily."
Aria blinked.
Lucas internally screamed.
Sir??? Budget??? Sanity???
"…Every day?" she asked.
"Yes."
"…You're trying too hard."
"I'm being practical."
"You're being competitive."
"I don't compete."
She smiled sweetly.
"You're losing, then."
---
They stepped out together.
As they walked, Aria casually added—
"I prefer Eldogua roses."
Ethan paused.
Lucas watched, stunned, as his boss's expression shifted—
From irritation…
To calculation…
To something dangerously close to determination.
Oh no.
"…Noted," Ethan said.
---
Aria's POV
Hooked.
Absolutely hooked.
Now all that's left—
Is making him admit it.
And maybe…
Just maybe—
Breaking him a little first.