"No, it wasn't like this before," Taurus said, crouching slightly beside the car. His voice was calm but edged with dangerous precision. He extended a gloved hand, pointing at the long, jagged streak of mud smeared across the glossy black paint. "This stain wasn't here earlier," he continued. "And even though it's raining, we didn't pass through any mud on the way here. Someone definitely did this."
The playboy stepped closer, his face tightening as he followed Taurus's finger. His gaze swept slowly over the deep scratch, the shattered mirror, and the dirt, inspecting the damage as if he were looking at a wounded living thing. "Arrrgh!" he suddenly screamed, clutching his hair in sheer frustration. "You're right, Taurus! You're absolutely right. Someone did this to my baby!"
My stomach dropped at the word baby. He wasn't talking about a person; he was talking about the machine.
"Look for the person who did this," he continued, his voice rising in anger. "Whoever it was, my baby looked strong just moments ago."
Taurus immediately straightened up and began scanning the area. His eyes swept the surroundings with predatory efficiency, turning left and right, checking every corner, every shadow, and every shivering person nearby.
That was when fear truly wrapped its fingers around my throat. This was not how it was supposed to go. Everything was spiraling out of control. I had no money; I couldn't even pay for a meal for a full week, let alone afford the repairs on a Lamborghini. I was soaked and bruised, dressed in a common maid's uniform, and I was the only person standing around looking guilty without even trying.
I had stayed earlier because I thought leaving would make me look suspicious. But now, staying felt like the worst decision of my life. This was the moment to run.
I shifted my weight slowly, trying to turn away casually. I took a small step to the left, then hesitated, then stepped to the right again. My heart was pounding so loudly I was sure they could hear it over the sound of the rain. I didn't even know where I was running to; I just knew I had to get away from the man who called his car "baby."
Then his voice rang out again, sharp as a whistle. "Look," he said. "Someone's shoe. Just like you said, Taurus. Someone really did this to my baby."
My breath left me. He bent down and picked up my wet shoe, carefully using a white handkerchief to hold it as if it were evidence at a crime scene. He straightened up and began to pace slowly around the car, deliberate steps.
Then his eyes landed on me. "You," he said, lifting his hand and pointing a long finger at my chest. "Come here."
My legs felt like lead. What did I do? I panicked. Why did everything I touched turn into chaos? Why did my life always seem to gravitate toward disaster? I knew he was talking to me. I knew pretending not to hear him would only make it worse. Still, the primal urge to survive pushed me forward, and I broke into a run.
I didn't get far.
He was unbelievably fast. In a matter of seconds, his hand closed around my upper arm and yanked me back. I stumbled, lost my balance, and was spun around forcefully until I was standing face-to-face with him.
Up close, he was overwhelming. His dark eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made my chest tighten. They sat beneath perfectly arched brows, sharp and unreadable. His cheekbones were prominent, giving his face a sculpted, striking look. Thick black hair fell past his collar, glossy even in the rain. He stood there silently, yet something about him felt loud powerful, commanding.
My breath hitched. He was more handsome than anyone I had ever seen in my life. His features were unique and dangerous, the kind of beauty that made people stare without realizing it.
But reality crashed back down. He didn't greet me. He didn't ask questions. He had simply grabbed me.
Before I could even think to scream, he lifted me easily and threw me over his shoulder as if I weighed nothing more than a sack of flour.
"What do you think you're doing?" I protested, my voice muffled as I pounded weakly against his back. "Who do you think you are? Put me down right now!"
He said nothing, not a single word. He carried me straight back to the car and dropped me roughly onto my feet. I staggered, trying to steady myself on the wet pavement. He looked down at his expensive clothes, sniffed the air near his shoulder, and his face twisted in pure disgust. Then he turned sharply to Taurus.
"She ruined my outfit and my car," he snapped. Then, looking at me, he added, "What are you?"
I opened my mouth to defend myself, but he cut me off immediately with a sharp, impatient wave of his hand.
"Shhh," he said dismissively. "That is not even the issue. Did you do this to my car? I don't even need to ask. You did it. You are the only one here."
"No, I did not do this to your car," I said quickly, my heart racing. "And even if I had, is that why you think it's okay to sexually harass me? To just pick me up like that?"
He laughed, a mocking sound that made my skin crawl. "If anyone asked," he said slowly, looking me up and down with a sneer, "who do you think they would believe? That a man like me harassed someone who looks like… you?"
He stepped closer, his shadow falling over me. "So answer me. Why did you do it?"
"I told you, I didn't do it," I insisted, my voice shaking but firm.
"Then explain why you're wearing only one shoe," he snapped, holding up the shoe in the handkerchief and comparing it to the one still on my foot. "Explain why it matches this one perfectly."
He took another step, invading my personal space. "You did this and you're denying it. But tell me something: why the hell did you do this to my car?"
His eyes traveled slowly from my head to my toes, lingering on my soaked, tattered maid's uniform. "Do I look like the cause of your problems?" he asked, his voice low. "Is my car where you decided to dump all your anger? Look at what you did to my baby."
I should have known he was strange the moment he started talking to his car. I assumed he was just another spoiled rich playboy. But as I stood there, my eyes betrayed me. Despite his arrogance, he was infuriatingly handsome ,solid and masculine, filling out his suit. He chewed a piece of gum lazily between his teeth. He had a perfectly trimmed beard and a single silver earring. When his jacket shifted in the wind, I caught a glimpse of a semicolon tattoo etched boldly on his chest.
"I… I…" Words failed me.
"You what?" Taurus asked suddenly, stepping closer. He sniffed the air and frowned, looking at me with confusion. "Where is that smell coming from?"
He leaned toward me, then recoiled slightly. "It's you. You smell terrible. And you still claimed harassment?"
Humiliation burned through me.
"What happened to you?" Taurus continued. "Haven't you showered in days? Why do you smell like that?"
That was the moment my embarrassment turned into pure, unadulterated rage.
"Smell?" I snapped, stepping toward them both. "Whose fault do you think that is? You splashed filthy gutter water all over me, and you're saying I smell? Do you think you can talk down to me just because you're rich? That was harassment, and I don't care who you are. If you ever do that again, I will not take it lightly."
Taurus stepped forward, his face hardening, but the playboy raised his hand to stop him.
"Take it lightly with who?" he asked coldly. "Do you even know who I am? Look at you. You smell terrible and you still have this much pride, instead of apologizing."
"Pride?" I laughed bitterly, the sound sharp in the rain. "Apologize for what? You splashed water on me, you hijacked me, you carried me like an object, and you expect me to just walk away because I look like this? You rich people always act like you own the world when you live off the taxes we pay. I am the one who deserves an apology."
He scoffed. Dropping his cigarette to the ground, he crushed it slowly beneath his expensive shoe. "Are you stupid?" he sneered. "Tax? Shouldn't you be grateful you were splashed by a car you can never afford, not even in your next life? Shouldn't you be honored that a man like me even touched you?"
He reached into his inner pocket and pulled out a thick bundle of cash. "What were you doing out here anyway in the rain?" he continued. "What do you want? Money? It's obvious you do."
He flung the money into the air. "Here," he said casually. "One thousand dollars."
The bills scattered around us, landing in the wet mud and sticking to the pavement. "I know your type," he went on, his voice dripping with venom. "You pull cheap stunts like this to get a payout. I've given you what you want, so move out of my way. I have better things to do than talk to a girl in a maid's outfit."
He shoved me aside roughly so he could get to his car door. "That's for your dry cleaning," he added cruelly. "Use the rest to treat those wounds on your face. Forget about the mirror — you will never afford it. You could work your entire life and still not pay for a single part of this car."
Something inside me snapped.
"What did you just say?" I snarled. "Say that again."
"I said you will never afford it," he replied without hesitation, turning back to face me. "Unless you start sleeping around or continue your gold-digging ways. Who knows which road you'll be on next, begging for another car to splash you."
His eyes traveled slowly over my body again, lingering on my outfit and my injuries — even that belt mark on my face. "Look at you: your outfit, your injuries. You look like you just finished a rough BDSM session."
The remaining showers blurred my vision, but the sting on my face and the ache in my ribs felt sharper than ever. Before I could stop myself, I lunged. I grabbed his shirt with both hands, rose on my toes, and slammed my forehead into his nose.
I was shorter, so my aim was clumsy, but it connected with a sickening thud.
Blood spilled instantly, dark and red, mixing with the rain on his face. He let out a shout of shock and pain, clutching his nose. When he tried to grab me back, I leaned down and bit his hand as hard as I could.
"Ewww!" he yelled, jerking his hand away. "What the hell is wrong with her? She's a wild animal!"
He struggled to regain his composure. "Are you just standing there?" he barked at Taurus. "Do something! Get her off me!"
I broke free, chest heaving, breath coming in ragged gasps.
"I knew it," I shouted, voice cracking with bitter emotion. "Handsome men never have good manners. I only wanted an apology, and you buried me in insults!"
I bent down, snatched up the wet money from the ground, and looked him straight in the eyes.
"You are right," I said, voice trembling but cold. "Thank you for the money. I don't care how you threw it. Since this is how a gold-digging business works, congratulations. You're my first customer."
I forced a small, jagged smile.
"And who knows," I added. "You might become my regular client someday. So consider this your payment for humiliating me."