Bentley's POV
"My home is yours," his words rang in my ears repeatedly, my eyes dilating. When he talks like that, it never ceases to amaze me. How can someone be this kind and patient to a stranger he just met some weeks ago? I thought to myself.

"If I may ask, what's this job you're considering?" Damian stared at me.

"Oh... it's a—" I paused. "A café shop. I find it relaxing and refreshing," I said with a small smile. "I've not decided yet," I added to avoid any misunderstanding.

"So, you'll get to make breakfast? That's good... you're good at it," Damian said, standing up. "But if you change your mind, I'll be here to help you get the job of your choice," he added with a reassuring smile.

"Thank you... really," I replied. Damian nodded, walking away.

"Wait, one more thing," I called, making him halt and look in my direction.

"You said there's a library. Can I borrow some books?" I asked in a low tone, bowing my head in shame for requesting so much from him.

"No problem. Follow me," Damian said, turning toward the elevator and continuing to walk. I followed behind. He stayed silent until the elevator dinged.

We reached the third door on the first floor. Damian opened it with his fingerprint and stepped inside.

My jaw dropped at the sight of the tall wooden shelves stretching to the ceiling.

"This is the non-fiction category," Damian explained, catching a glimpse of me.

"Amazing," I muttered. "Is there a fiction category?" I asked.

"Yes," he exhaled. "My friend usually uses that category. I rarely go there. Wanna see?"

"Yes, please!" I responded almost immediately.

He arched his thick brow. "So, you're one of them?" Damian asked in his deep voice.

I giggled at his expression. "What do you mean? You don't like fiction?"

"I hate it," Damian corrected.

I gasped dramatically. "Are you for real? Wow! People who hate fiction exist?"

Damian's eyebrows furrowed. "Of course. Why would anyone like it? It's unrealistic and a complete waste of time. It adds no value to your life," he argued.

"Wow, you sound like my dad now," I chuckled, then turned to him. "I disagree. People use it as a means of escape when life gets hard. It improves mental health—not to mention it’s the perfect excuse to avoid socializing," I retorted.

"You... have a point," he admitted, crossing over to the other side. "This is the fiction section," Damian added.

I rushed to the shelves, glancing excitedly at the rows of books. "These are trending books," I said, picking up a fantasy romance novel. "I'm borrowing this," I grinned.

"Feel free," Damian replied. I picked up three more books.

"You update your library with the most recent fiction reads. Are you sure you hate it that much?" I smirked, teasing him.

"Alpha and my friend do that, not me," he replied.

"Oh, that's so nice of them. I'm thankful," I said.

The library had a long couch in the center, perfect for relaxing and losing oneself in fictional worlds.

"Do you mind if I take some pictures of your library?" I asked, raising the camera hanging around my neck.

Damian paused, making the moment slightly awkward. "I've been meaning to ask—why do you walk around with a camera dangling from your neck? Isn't it uncomfortable?" he asked, his expression concerned.

"I'm a photography enthusiast. I'm used to it; I don't feel discomfort at all," I replied with a smile.

"Were you also a photographer or something?" he asked.

"No," I replied, shaking my head. "It's my habit of keeping memories. I post nice ones on social media sometimes... one second," I added, pulling my phone from my pocket to show him a few pictures I had taken earlier.

Damian's eyes widened. "These look very professional. What's your handle?" he asked.

"What?" I asked, unsure I heard correctly.

He paused. "You take shots at unique angles. I'd appreciate it if you could share your handle. Art is a gift to cherish," Damian said, his expression returning to its usual indifferent look.

"No problem," I replied, typing his name and tapping on the verified account. I tilted my phone toward him. "This is you, right?" I asked. He nodded.

As expected of an influential person, his account had a massive following—but I didn’t expect it to be this many. I scrolled down, noticing he only had two posts with millions of likes. One of the perks of being a celebrity.

"You're not very active on Instagram, are you?" I asked, clicking the follow button.

"No, not at all," Damian said, pulling out his phone and clicking the blue 'follow back' button. My eyes widened at his action.

"Y-You accidentally touched the follow-back button," I said, pointing at his screen.

"Yeah, I know," Damian replied, opening my page and glancing at my aesthetic posts. That’s when I realized it wasn’t a mistake.

I wondered why he’d do that. No one would question me following a celebrity, but it was different for him. Wasn’t he bothered by what the public might say? I mean, he only followed business and company accounts before following me.

"Aren't you bothered?" I asked, staring at his screen.

"About?" he replied, still focused on my sunset pictures.

"The public? Fans? Celebrity news?" I listed.

"It's my personal account. I can follow whomever I want," he defended.

"Oh, okay... thanks? For the following," I shrugged, unsure how else to react.

"Don't thank me. Thank your talent," Damian said, turning away. He paused. "I'll be in my room. You can sleep in the library if you want," he added with a small smile before leaving.

"I will," I half-yelled, giggling.

I toured the shelves, selecting a pile of books that would last me a week. I dropped the mountain of novels next to the couch, nearly breaking my back.

I arched until I heard a crack. "Wow!" I sighed in relief.

I spent hours immersed in an exciting tale of a mermaid falling in love with a human—a comedic retelling of The Little Mermaid.

After finishing the book, I raised my camera to capture a shot of the shelves but hesitated, remembering Damian hadn't answered my earlier question.

I let the camera dangle and made my way to his room, only to find it empty.

"Alpha," I called the AI.

"Yes? How may I help you today, Bentley?" it responded.

"I'm looking for Damian," I said, glancing around.

"He's in the gymnasium," it replied.

"Okay, thanks," I said, strolling to the first floor. I know some might think it odd to thank an AI, but it felt natural, like talking to another living being.

I pressed my palm to the sensor and peeked through as the door opened.

Damian Giovanni lifted heavy weights like a wrestler preparing for a showdown, sweat glistening on his skin as it ran down.

He clenched his teeth, counting with determination. "94...95...96...97...98," he glanced at me, and I flinched.

"Oh...uh..." My body froze, and my heart skipped a beat, likely due to his intense gaze.

"99... and 100," Damian grunted, raising the weights one last time before dropping them to the ground.

He sat up, wiping his face with the towel around his neck, then exhaled and looked at me with a smirk.

"Wanna gym?"

What’s with that flirty pose and the look in his eyes? Do I look like his high school crush or something? I screamed internally.

Author's note:
Do you want me? Wanna love me like I- 🎶
(Lol, did I get the lyrics right?)

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