"No, not this house," you said to the driver with your head still pressed up against the closed window.

"It is this house, sweetheart," the man beside you reminded, prompting you to take another look at the gates.

"Oh," you mumbled before you opened the car door, stepping out. "Shubman Gill, you have my generosity. Now, goodbye."

Saying that, you turned around, walking to the gate.

You heard him stepping out too, another set of footsteps accompanying him.

"You forgot your backpack," Shubman called out and you stopped on your tracks. "-at the bar."

So that's why your shoulders felt empty.

Turning around, you saw him standing beside one of his men and holding out your backpack.

(A/n: The number of times I typed backpack as backup (-｡-;)

You took quick steps towards him, grabbing it before walking back to the gate again.

"Thank you," you said loudly on your way to the house, undoing the lock and not minding the bougainvillea that blocked your view of the tiny building partially.

He was still standing there and looking at you, wasn't he?

Time skip to morning~

It was 6 am. You turned off the clock's alarm, pushing the blanket off your body with one hand, sitting up and landing your feet on the floor.

You really slept all the way in. You hadn't been waiting for the alarm like you always do.

Nothing unusual. Just like every morning.

Even the small couch beside your bed, placed against the wall and so close to the bed that there was only an arm's length, was not unusual.

In fact, it was very convenient to lay across the couch and the bed, leaving a considerable length of your body hanging in the middle.

It was like a makeshift swing.

But a stranger sitting on that couch was definitely not usual.

A familiar stranger, but a stranger nonetheless.

Is that why you had to push the blanket off with one hand? Because he was holding the other one.

And how was he sleeping so peacefully in that cramped space?

You might not believe it but your hand in his brought more comfort and sleep than his Stuart Hughes Baldacchino Supreme ever did.

The $6.3 million handmade bed made out of 107 kilograms of 24 carat gold, chestnut wood, diamonds and Italian silks cannot compare to the peace you brought within him.

(A/n: Stuart Hughes collaborated with Italian furniture company Hebanon by Fratelli Basile Interiors of Nocera Superiore Italy to design the bed)

Your first instinct was to pull your hand back to yourself, and that caused him to stir in his sleep.

How in the world did Shubman Gill end up in your house? And on top of that, asleep?

All you did was have dinner, go to the bar, bond with a coconut tree and-

Oh.

Oh my gawd.

That was your cue to start panicking.

"Sh!t," you muttered before abruptly standing up, still dressed in your outfit from yesterday.

You noticed Shubman was still wearing his blazer and the sight made you feel like you were the one sweating. You don't feel like the ceiling fan did much justice.

"You're awake," he mumbled, his eyes still closed.

"You're awake?" You repeated his words as a question, watching his face for any sort of reaction.

"Just now," he said, shuffling on the couch and straightening his posture a bit. "Felt your hand slip out of mine."

And then he opened his eyes.

The same eyes that you felt like you could write poems about.

"Do you remember what happened last night?" Shubman asked and you blinked once, then twice.

"I do," you replied. You remember now. Your generous self just had to invite him over.

As he stood up from his place, you noticed the pack of M&M'S on the bedside table.

Your precious confectionery, which you had locked away in the cupboard, eating only one before you went to sleep every night. As if it was a sleeping pill.

At present, it was only the initial stages of your fourth pack in six months.

Shubman must've noticed your gaze because he decided to speak up.

"You wanted to thank me for dropping you home," he said. "You handed me a blue and green one."

"I gave you two?" You raised an eyebrow, surprised you did that.

"Yeah," he answered as he took off his blazer after literally twenty four hours. It felt like you could breathe now too. "And you ate three; blue, green, and yellow."

Why does he have to remember all the details?

"Also, you just fell on the bed right after," he continued. "If I even tried to move my hand slightly, you'd start whining in your sleep."

Anyway, if it was five M&M'S, should you skip a small part of your night routine for four days to compensate? Considering that one was for last night.

Still in a haze, you followed the mafia boss as he walked out to your living room.

Your backpack was on the couch and you noticed your reflection on the mirror hung across the entrance.

'Do I really look like that?' You thought and looked back at Shubman as he sat on the living room couch, bent down and tying his shoelace.

He actually undid them and then tied them again so that he could stay a little longer.

When he was done, he picked his blazer he set aside shortly before and stood up, facing you.

And despite a long sleep, his hair looked as if it had been just done.

"I know it might be too much to take in at once," Shubman started. "But please don't be afraid. I want you to know that you don't have to be scared of me."

"I'm not scared of you," you said bluntly, bringing a small smile to his lips.

There it was again. Those dimples.

"I'm glad," he said softly, still smiling. "I'll see you tomorrow. Your café's launching a ravioli with a secret recipe."

"Day after tomorrow," you corrected him.

"Preponed," he replied and smiled that damn smile again.

Shubman stepped forward, not breaking eye contact with you as he closed the distance between you both.

Just a couple of feet apart.

The distance between you both boiled his blood.

"I want you to know," he started again and you stared back at him.

That's it. That's all it took. One look from you was enough to shatter his world and rebuild it again.

You had no idea of what you did to him.

"From the first moment I saw you, I wanted to let you in my life in a way that I've never thought of for anyone. I've given up trying to fathom what I feel. All I know is that if I'm awake, I need to be with you. If I'm sleeping, I need to dream of you. And for the rest of our lives, I want to adore every little thing about you and treasure the light you brought into my life."

The blazer was held by his forearm, one hand at the back of your head, smoothly intertwining his fingers with your hair.

Shubman leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on your forehead, sending frills of electricity down your body.

"I love you."