Gangster to Idol

Cain stared at her, his jaw tightening. Felice wasn't giving him a choice, and the worst part was, she knew exactly how to manipulate the situation.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

"Do you realize how impossible it'll be to walk around unnoticed?" he said, his voice low and tense.

Felice waved him off with a flick of her wrist. "Relax, we've got hats and masks, right? Besides, who's going to recognize us? It's just lunch."

Cain wasn't convinced, not for a second. He cast a wary glance at her—Felice was every bit as eye-catching as he was, if not more so.

Her flawless, pale skin seemed to catch every stray beam of light, and her tall, slender frame exuded a presence that turned heads no matter where she went. Even with a disguise, Felice couldn't walk through a crowd without being noticed.

And neither could he. Experience more tales on empire

"You think a mask is going to make people ignore us?" Cain growled. "Look at you. You look like you just stepped out of a runway, and I—" He gestured toward himself. "I'm not exactly invisible either."

But Felice simply smiled, her eyes dancing with amusement. "You're worrying too much," she said, stepping closer. "It's just lunch, C.C. No one's going to care."

Cain stepped back instinctively, his body tensing as Felice reached out. Her hand almost brushed his arm, but Cain was quicker, averting the touch in an instant.

Felice blinked, her hand hovering in midair for a moment before she lowered it, a curious glint in her eyes.

"Why is it," she began, her voice soft but pointed, "that you seem so uncomfortable around women? Hmm?"

Her question hung in the air. Cain stiffened. For a woman who often played dumb, Felice was far too perceptive. She knew exactly where to press to get a reaction out of him.

Cain's expression hardened, but he kept his voice steady. "You're right. I don't want to touch women." His eyes met hers with a guarded intensity. "And I don't want to get dragged into a scandal."

Felice's lips curled again, this time in a knowing smile. "We have masks," she said smoothly. "No one's going to recognize us."

Cain narrowed his eyes. "People with good eyes can still tell. You know that."

Felice leaned in just a little, her smirk growing wider. "I swear, you're worrying way too much, C.C. Besides, I've always known you're the type to overthink."

Cain's brow furrowed, the irritation boiling beneath his skin. "It's better to worry now than regret it later."

Felice paused, studying his face for a long moment. The playfulness in her expression softened, giving way to something more sincere.

"C.C," she said, her voice quieter now, "Being an idol has its time and place, and right now, taking your lunch isn't one of them."

She stepped back, offering him a genuine smile. "Come on. It's just lunch. So shall we get going?"

Cain's jaw clenched at her words, a flash of vulnerability crossing his face before he masked it with indifference.

With a low grunt, Cain exhaled sharply. "Fine," he muttered, his voice resigned. "Let's get this over with."

Felice beamed at him, her face lighting up with victory. "That's the spirit."

As they headed toward the door together, Cain couldn't shake the feeling that this simple lunch was more than it seemed.

Felice always was up to something, and despite all his efforts to avoid getting caught in her web, Cain knew that today, he had lost the battle.

"Just go with it," she cut him off, her tone light but with an undercurrent of insistence. "You can sulk about it later."

As the two vanished from the salon, the staff and clients exchanged bewildered glances, each trying to make sense of what just happened.

It wasn't every day they saw Felice drag C.C. out like that.

Victor, the head stylist, merely sighed and shook his head. He'd grown used to the spectacle by now, having seen Felice toying with C.C. every chance she got.

Whether it was their sharp-tongued banter or the effortless charm that seemed to surround the two, Victor wasn't surprised anymore.

Jaxton, on the other hand, wasn't so calm. He stood in the corner, silently cursing C.C. under his breath.

How does he keep stealing all the attention? Jaxton thought bitterly. He could handle C.C. being a standout talent—barely—but now he was even taking all the pretty women with him, including Felice.

Jaxton's fists clenched at the thought, though he wasn't foolish enough to confront C.C. about because the guy was dangerous. He kept telling the others about it, but they all just laughed at him.

Despite everyone's curiosity, no one really believed Felice had any romantic interest in C.C. They knew her too well for that.

But still, the fact that she, of all people, seemed fascinated with him made everyone question just what kind of pull C.C. had.

It wasn't love, but it was something else—and no one could quite figure out what it was.

Felice and C.C. walked out of the salon together, side by side, though it was impossible to blend in. Despite the hats and masks, they both exuded an aura that couldn't be hidden.

They were both tall, with fit physiques, and the way they moved together drew attention from everyone they passed. Felice's fair skin practically glowed under the sunlight, and C.C.'s naturally cool demeanor made people glance twice, curious to see who the mysterious duo was.

As they strolled through the streets toward the mall, Felice continued to chatter away, completely unbothered by the way people were sneaking glances.

C.C., on the other hand, kept his head low, muttering, "This was a terrible idea," every few steps.

"Why are you always so tense?" Felice teased, glancing up at him. "It's just lunch."

"Just lunch," C.C. repeated dryly, "with you, looking like you walked off a runway, and me—" He gestured vaguely to himself, his tattoos peeking out from under his sleeve. "I don't exactly blend in."

Felice laughed, a light, musical sound that only drew more attention. "You should learn to enjoy the attention, C.C. You're going to have to deal with it once you're famous anyway."