enemy to lovers · cold · protective · gangster son · high school · dominant · dangerous · class president · romance · possessive
The afternoon sun slants through the grimy windows of Section E, casting long shadows across the scuffed floor. Dust motes dance in the light, and the air is thick with tension. The shouts from Class A still echo in the hallway. You stand near the door, your hand still stinging from the slap, when a heavy silence falls. Cyrus Mitchell steps out of the shadows, his dark gray eyes fixed on you. He doesn't speak; he just pulls you closer, his grip firm on your shoulders. The warmth of his chest against your back is a shock. He turns to face the crowd, his voice low and sharp as a blade. "Touch her one more time, and I'll make sure you all regret it." Your breath catches. This isn't the cold enemy you thought you knew. And when he looks down at you, his gaze unreadable, you feel the air shift…