“I know this one guy…” I paused, swaying slightly. “Picture the most uptight man you’ve ever met. Always in expensive suits, runs a huge company, never has a hair out of place. I used to call him the King of Emotional Repression.”
The audience was engaged now, leaning forward slightly.
“For the longest time, I thought he wasn’t interested. You know the type? Super polite, maintains appropriate distance, acts like a perfect gentleman. So respectful that I started wondering if I was actually his long-lost sister.”
I exaggerated my confusion, making the audience laugh.
“But then I discovered the truth. This man isn’t emotionally repressed – he’s been hiding the soul of a starving wolf this entire time. All that gentleman behavior? Total act. Underneath, he’s been plotting like some kind of romantic strategist. The minute he finally made his move…” I fanned myself dramatically. “Let’s just say the transformation was shocking.
The laughter was getting louder. I felt drunk on more than just wine now – drunk on the attention, the validation, the freedom to finally say these things out loud.
‘So ladies, take note. Sometimes the guys who seem the most proper and controlled are the ones with the most… intense imaginations. The quiet ones are definitely not always the safe bet.”
The audience loved it. But as their laughter died down, something shifted inside me.
“But honestly?” My voice grew softer, more vulnerable. I love him All of him. The controlled version and the… enthusiastic version.
The room had gone quieter, sensing the change in tone
“I used to think it was fate that brought us together. Some cosmic destiny. But tonight I realized something… I paused, feeling tears prick at my eyes.
“When I was fifteen, my mom died. And I became this awful, angry little monster. Wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t go to school, wouldn’t talk to anyone. I was hurting so much I wanted everyone else to hurt too.”
My voice caught slightly, but I pushed through.
“He was twenty-four then. Already successful, already important. Had a million responsibilities and people depending on him. But he said, ‘I’ll teach her.””
The tears were coming now, but I didn’t care.
“He’d sit at our kitchen table and help me with homework. Math, chemistry, physics – subjects he’d mastered years earlier. One day I asked him why he remembered everything so clearly.”
I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand.
“He said, ‘I stayed up last night reviewing all your textbooks. How else could I teach you? That’s when I knew.”
The room was completely silent now.
“I fell in love with him not because of destiny or fate. I fell in love because when I was at my absolute worst, he was willing to spend his nights studying high school textbooks just so he could help me through my pain.”
My voice was shaking, but I couldn’t stop now.
“I love his patience. I love that he memorized chemistry formulas he’d never need again, just for me. I love that he’d hand me tissues when I cried and never made me feel ashamed of my anger. I love how he called me ‘Sabi’ in this gentle voice that made me feel like I might actually be worth something.”
Looking out at the audience, I felt like I was speaking directly to him, even though he was not here.
“I love that he was willing to make himself smaller to fit into my broken world. That he’d do anything – anything at all heal, even if it seemed beneath someone of his position.”
My voice broke completely. to help me
“Even if he never knows… in all those nights when he helped me with homework, he wasn’t just teaching me math. He was teaching me that I deserved kindness. That someone could see me at my ugliest and still choose to stay.”
The silence stretched for several heartbeats. Then the room exploded.
Thunderous applause filled the bar, mixed with sharp whistles and cheers. Someone near the back shouted “Encore!” and the cry was immediately picked up by others.
“More! More!”
I stood frozen, overwhelmed by the response. My colleagues were cheering the loudest, Stacey practically bouncing in her seat as she applauded.
The host appeared beside me, grinning widely. “Looks like you’ve got some fans. Want to give them another round?”
I shook my head at the host with a polite smile. “Thank you, but I think one performance is enough for tonight.”
The crowd groaned in disappointment, but I made my way back to my table.
It wasn’t until I was sitting down that the reality of what I’d just done began to sink in.
I reached for my wine glass and drained it in one go. Then another. And another…
Third Person POV
Jacob Morrison had been having a perfectly ordinary Friday night until he decided to duck into the Bar for a quick drink before heading home.
He’d just ordered his whiskey when a voice caught his attention from the stage. Jacob turned, his glass halfway to his lips, and nearly choked.
No fucking way.
Sable Crawford stood under the warm stage lights, microphone in hand, telling the audience about some uptight guy in expensive suits. Jacob knew exactly who she was talking about.
He’d known Caelan for eight years.
And right now, Caelan’s fianc?e was giving a room full of strangers a very detailed account of their relationship.
Jacob pulled out his phone without thinking and started to record. This was too good to pass up. Caelan’s perfectly controlled image versus his apparently very enthusiastic private behavior?
This is going to be hilarious.
He recorded the whole performance of Sable, finished his whiskey in one gulp and headed for the exit, already composing the text message in his head.
Outside the bar, Jacob leaned against his car and pulled up Caelan’s contact information. His fingers moved quickly across the screen:
Hey “King of Emotional Repression” – your fianc?e just gave a very enlightening public performance about your “enthusiastic” private. behavior. Apparently the transformation from gentleman to starving wolf is quite… shocking? You’re welcome.
He attached the video and hit send.
Caclan’s POV
The ace of spades sat mockingly in my hand – a perfect hand wasted on a mind elsewhere. Peter’s private entertainment room buzzed with the low hum of conversation and the soft clink of ice against crystal, but I might as well have been sitting in a morgue for all the attention I was paying to the game.
I kept thinking about Sable and checking my phone every ten minutes.
“Look at our Lycan King.” Peter sneered. He leaned back in his leather chair, amber whiskey catching the light from the crystal chandelier. “You’ve been staring at those cards for five minutes. Either you’re plotting world domination or you’re missing a certain doctor.”
I arranged my cards with deliberate precision. “She’s having dinner with colleagues.”
“Ah.” Leon nodded sagely from across the mahogany table. “And our territorial king is having separation anxiety.”
Peter’s grin turned predatory. “Look at him! Sitting here with us instead of following her around like a lovesick puppy. Who are you, and what did you do with Caelan Blackwood?”
“Fuck off, Peter.”
“Ooh, hostile.” He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Someone’s definitely missing his woman.”
I fixed him with my coldest stare.
“Speaking of women…” Leon began. “I’ve been seeing someone lately.”
Peter’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? Do tell.”
Leon shrugged like it was nothing. Just some girl from a small town. Nothing serious.”
“Small town girl, huh? Peter leaned forward with interest. “Pretty?”
“Pretty enough. Good for passing time when I’m bored.”
Something cold settled in my stomach. “Leon.”
But he was already continuing, oblivious to the warning in my voice. “She’s sweet, I suppose. Naive. The type who thinks a few expensive dinners and some jewelry means we’re headed for something serious.”
Peter laughed. “And when you get tired of her?”
“Same as always.” Leon examined his cards. “A few designer handbags, some cash to help with her expenses, and she’ll disappear quietly. They always do once they realize they can’t actually reach my level.”
“You might want to be more careful with that attitude.” I said.
Leon glanced up from his cards. “Why?”
“Because I’ve seen too many men regret underestimating what they had. Sometimes by the time you realize something was worth keeping, it’s already gone.”
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