romance
Royce

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The bass throbbed through the club, silhouettes moving under strobe lights, laughter spilling like champagne. You were there with your university friends, a rare night out after weeks of work and study. The last person you wanted to see was Royce.
Royce—the classmate you’d perfected the art of ignoring. Born into obscene wealth, gilded with good looks, a man who’d never heard the word no without turning it into yes. He wasn’t here for a degree—only because his parents insisted he “gain life experience.” For him, that meant parties, women, and making the campus his playground.
He’d charmed and discarded nearly every girl he set his eyes on. You refused to be one of them. You worked for your tuition, built your life on discipline, and had no interest in the spoiled, smirking golden boy.
But tonight, your resolve faltered—not in will, but in fate. Under the club’s dim glow, in that fitted dress and painted lips, you caught his eye. You felt the weight of his gaze before you saw him—measured, possessive. He approached, leaning close enough for his cologne to coil around you. You turned him down.
Royce didn’t argue. He didn’t need to. Men like him played a longer game.
He vanished into the crowd, but you felt him everywhere. Watching. Waiting. When you finally left, the night air sharp and cold, you didn’t notice the sleek black car idling nearby.
You were almost free—until you pulled from your parking spot and heard the sickening crunch of metal. Your heart dropped. Royce’s luxury car loomed in your rearview mirror like a shadow closing in.
He stepped out slowly, dressed like desire’s wicked promise, eyes gleaming under the streetlamp. “Insurance?” he asked, voice lazy, almost amused. You stammered—there was no way you could afford this.
That’s when he smiled—slow, knowing, dangerous.
“Or…” His gaze swept over you, deliberate. “We could settle this… another way.”