Titan 111

The shop was tiny, with just one staff member and not a single customer in sight.

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The clerk took the piercing gun from Ian, then immediately avoided looking in their direction, clearly too embarrassed to watch.

Yolanda sat on the stool, forced to crane her neck. Right now, all she could focus on was holding still–her usual fear of needles slipped to the back of her mind.

Ian prepared to pierce her other ear, coaxing gently, “See? Didn’t hurt at all, right?”

When Yolanda stayed silent, Ian squatted down so they were eye–level and asked softly, “Are you upset?”

He quietly pinched her untouched earlobe. “If you keep ignoring me, I might just pierce it wherever I feel like,” Ian teased.

“I’m not mad,” Yolanda blurted out, her heartbeat pounding in her chest from nerves.

Yolanda thought, ‘God, my heart’s about to leap out of my throat.‘

Ian locked eyes with her, his gaze deep and swirling with unspoken emotion. Suddenly, he broke into a smile. “Let me give you a kiss first, then I’ll do this one.”

Yolanda relaxed a bit, though sweat still dotted her nose. “Just… just tell me when you’re about to—”

Before she could finish, the second earring was already in. The pain caught her by surprise, coming a moment late.

“You-!” Yolanda burst out, startled.

Ian set the piercing gun aside, gently cupping her face in his hands. He wiped the sweat from her nose with a tissue, his touch soft and careful.

Yolanda’s scolding died in her throat, leaving her speechless.

She got up to leave in a hurry, but overheard Ian paying the clerk; then, chuckling under his breath, he hurried after her.

Yolanda couldn’t help but feel she’d been tricked. ‘So annoying,‘ she grumbled to herself.

“Ms. Grant,” Ian called out, catching up to her.

He pulled her close, saying, “I’ve got two on this side, one on the other. What kind of earrings do you like on men? I’ll go buy some.”

Yolanda stopped in her tracks. Honestly, she really liked guys with earrings–especially someone as attractive as Ian. There was just something sexy about it.

But she was still a bit annoyed, so she decided to mess with him. “I like guys with tongue piercings. Pretty

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useful, you know.”

Ian’s smile froze, caught off guard for a split second. Recovering, he replied in a husky tone, “Don’t mess with me, I might actually take you seriously.”

Yolanda instantly regretted what she’d just said. She gave a little cough and hurried onward, trying to hide her

embarrassment.

Ian followed right on her heels, his voice trailing after her–seductive and haunting.

“If you really want it, I’ll get my tongue pierced right now.”

“I was just messing with you. Don’t actually do it–it’s enough for you to fake it. If someone finds out, it won’t end well,” Yolanda replied quickly.

Ian tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers gentle. “Keep them dry for three days, or they’ll get infected.”

“Got it,” Yolanda replied.

Back in the room, Charles still hadn’t returned.

Yolanda had never really done anything this new before. She’d been fighting the urge to check them out earlier, but now she was glued to the mirror, admiring her fresh piercings with the clear starter studs gleaming at her earlobes.

Her eyes were full of wonder, like she’d just leveled up her whole reality–totally fascinated by this tiny change.

While she was still inspecting herself, the bathroom door was pushed open. Charles was standing there in just a shirt, lingering in the doorway as he spotted her new piercings and slowly came closer.

He slipped his arms around her from behind, fingers itching to touch, but he slapped his own hand away. “Better not, too many germs,” he murmured.

He let out a small laugh and dropped a soft kiss on top of her head. “So what got you in the mood for new ear holes all of a sudden?”

“I saw the piercing shop downstairs, and after putting it off for years, I finally decided to go for it,” Yolanda explained.

“So why didn’t you get it done before?” Charles asked.

He rested his chin on top of her head, both hands holding her waist.

Yolanda lowered her lashes, memories flashing back to her days at the orphanage. There was this man who came by to donate supplies once–William couldn’t have been more welcoming, practically rolling out the red carpet. The guy scanned the crowd of kids, his gaze locking onto her, and asked to speak with her privately.

What happened next still haunted her–he’d jab needles into her fingers, warning her not to shed a single tear,

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or he’d snatch back all those treats he’d promised the other kids.

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He brought a whole truck full of snacks, but his business life was falling apart. He just needed someone vulnerable to vent his twisted frustrations on.

Biting her lip, Yolanda forced herself not to cry. All ten fingers were nearly ruined, but she couldn’t tell William–if she did and the man stopped donating, everyone might go hungry that winter.

The man only stuck around for a month. Back then, even Athena was suspicious, worried he might have other shady interests. She asked Yolanda a lot of questions and checked her for any harm–but never thought to look at her battered fingertips.

A whole month of that, and Yolanda ended up with a real phobia of anything sharp. Years later, when she took Charles back to the orphanage, she’d told him about it in a whisper, like sharing a secret she wished she could forget.

Too bad, he’d never really cared much.

“Never really got the chance before,” Yolanda replied, her tone breezy, but there was a shadow in her eyes.

She was bored out of her mind, so she stripped down, hopped into the shower to wash off the blah feeling, and then slipped into her nightgown.

She curled up on her bed and started playing games on her tablet.

Charles came out of the shower and sank down onto the edge of the bed. Yolanda didn’t spare him a single glance.

He frowned and snatched the tablet from her hands. She shot up instantly. “Hey! I was just about to beat this level!”

Charles took a quick look at the screen, then smoothly pulled her into his arms. “So I’m lying here with you, and you’re just gonna play games?”

Yolanda helplessly watched as her character on the screen fell to its death. She pressed her lips together in frustration, then looked up at him.

It felt like something stabbed at Charles’s heart. He set his hand on the back of her head and leaned in close.

He leaned in for a kiss, but Yolanda dodged him, turning her face away at the last second.

“Babe, don’t test me. You’re gonna make me mad,” Charles murmured, a teasing threat in his voice.

Yolanda brushed his hand aside, flopped down on the bed, and squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m exhausted. Just gonna crash.”

Charles narrowed his eyes, swooped closer, and caught her chin in his hand, refusing to let her escape his lips.

He kissed her deeply, lingering for more than a moment.

She didn’t feel a thing.

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Charles’s expression darkened. “Babe, are you trying to become a nun or something?”

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Yolanda kept her eyes closed, pretending to be dead asleep. She thought, “The women in his bed are all gorgeous and know exactly how to make a guy tick. Why would he ever go for someone like me, just lying here like a clueless slacker?‘

Sure enough, Charles got pissed off and stormed out, the door slamming hard behind him.

Yolanda grabbed her tablet again and jumped right back into her game, like nothing had happened at all.

Normally, Charles would’ve just hit up Vivian, but not tonight. Instead, he stepped out onto the balcony and lit up a cigarette.

The noise from the temple fair across town was just background hum out here—he propped himself up on the railing, and felt his frustration finally clear out.

Charles thought, ‘Yolanda’s probably still stewing over what happened at the orphanage.

‘If she were just yelling and making a scene, it’d blow over fast. But when she goes quiet like this, that’s when it really lingers.’

‘Just like always.

He flicked ash from his cigarette, something amusing crossing his mind, and he ducked his head with a quiet

smile.

Charles had an elegant, well–proportioned figure–every gesture radiated a calm self–assurance, the kind of unflappable grace that only comes from growing up in an old–money family.

He was halfway done with his cigarette when he felt a pair of arms snake around his waist. Instantly, a sly smile crept onto his lips. “Regretting it already?”

Vivian pressed her cheek to his back, sounding a little triumphant.

“Regretting what, exactly? Mr. Sinclair, it’s such a perfect night and you’re out here sulking with a smoke instead of keeping your wife company. What gives? Is being alone with her really that unbearable for you?”

Charles’s smile faded a little, but he still didn’t push her away.

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