VriXian AU Compilation [ Part 1 ]

GH 7

***

Christian hated social events.

Gala nights were always the same—pointless small talk, fake smiles, and people who only saw him as a walking investment.

He didn't do emotions. He didn't do attachments. He certainly didn't do dancing.

Christian hated social events.

Gala nights were always the same—pointless small talk, fake smiles, and people who only saw him as a walking investment.

He didn't do emotions. He didn't do attachments. He certainly didn't do dancing.

And yet here he was, standing in the middle of an extravagant ballroom, forced to hold some random socialite's hand while the orchestra played a song he didn't even recognize.

"Mr. Martinez, you're quite the mystery," the woman in front of him purred, batting her lashes. "I've heard you're impossible to get close to."

Christian resisted the urge to sigh. Putangina, this is so exhausting.

He kept his expression blank, his grip on her waist light but distant. "I don't mix business with pleasure."

She smiled coyly. "Then let's not make it about business."

He didn't reply. He didn't have to. His disinterest was clear enough.

And yet, PR insisted. Dance with her for the cameras. Smile a little. Play the game.

He didn't care. Let them talk. Let them assume. It wasn't like he was interested in anyone—man or woman.

Then, a shadow moved.

Fast. Sharp. Cold.

Before Christian could process it, a firm, unyielding hand closed around his wrist.

Vrix.

His bodyguard's grip was solid, demanding. "We're leaving."

Christian frowned, trying to shake him off. "The hell? I'm in the middle of something—"

"You're done." Vrix's voice was low, clipped. His other hand slipped onto Christian's lower back, guiding—no, forcing—him away from the dance floor.

"What the fuck is your problem?" Christian hissed, stumbling slightly as he was dragged through the crowd. "Security issue?"

Vrix's jaw was tight. "Something like that."

Christian narrowed his eyes. Vrix wasn't usually this... agitated.

He glanced back at the dance floor. The woman he had left behind was still standing there, looking confused but unbothered. There was no visible threat. No disturbance.

Which meant—

"This isn't about security, is it?" Christian stopped walking, forcing Vrix to pause.

Vrix exhaled sharply. His fingers flexed against Christian's wrist for a split second before he let go.

"Why the fuck do you care?"

Christian's blood heated. Not out of anger—but out of something else. Something he didn't want to name.

"You pulled me out of there, not the other way around." His voice was low, challenging. "So, tell me, Gallano. What's your problem?"

Vrix's dark eyes locked onto his. Hard. Unreadable. Intense.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Christian became painfully aware of how close they were standing.

The way Vrix's chest nearly brushed against his.

The way his body radiated heat despite his cold demeanor.

The way his fingers twitched, like he was holding himself back.

And then—

Vrix took a step closer. Just enough for Christian to feel the warmth of his breath.

"Nothing." Vrix's voice was lower now. Rougher. "You just looked fucking ridiculous out there."

Christian blinked.

And then, he did something he wasn't expecting.

He laughed.

A short, sharp chuckle. "Putangina, Gallano. All that tension—just to insult me?"

Vrix's lips curled. "It's what I do best, boss."

Christian rolled his eyes, brushing past him. "Next time, just say you're jealous."

Vrix didn't respond immediately.

Vrix didn't respond immediately.

But just as Christian reached for his wine glass, a gravelly murmur reached his ears.

"Next time, don't make me."

Christian stilled.

His heart did something weird.

He told himself it was nothing. Just another round of their usual bickering.

But even as he sipped his wine, he couldn't ignore the way his fingers tingled where Vrix had held him.

The penthouse was quiet, except for the faint hum of the city beyond the glass windows.

Christian let out a frustrated sigh as he tossed his blazer onto the couch. He rolled his shoulders, trying to shake off the tension from the gala. He should be exhausted, but his mind wouldn't settle.

Because of Vrix.

That moment back at the gala—the firm grip on his wrist, the sharpness in his voice, the way their bodies nearly collided—it played in his head on repeat. And now, Vrix was here, standing in his living room, watching him.

"Take off your shirt."

Christian blinked. "Excuse me?"

Vrix sighed, stepping closer. "May sugat ka. Let me check."

Christian scoffed, pulling back. "I'm fine—"

Before he could finish, Vrix grabbed his wrist, his grip firm but not rough. Christian's breath hitched. He wanted to pull away, to argue, but the heat from Vrix's palm made his skin tingle in a way that unnerved him.

"Stop being stubborn," Vrix muttered, eyes locked on his. "Just take it off."

Christian didn't know what got into him, but he obeyed.

He slowly unbuttoned his shirt, peeling it off and tossing it aside. Vrix's gaze flickered over his chest, his expression unreadable. The air between them grew heavier, thicker.

Vrix stepped forward, inspecting a faint bruise near Christian's ribs. "This could've been worse." His fingers hovered over the bruise but didn't touch. Christian felt the heat of his body, his breath just inches away.

"I can take care of myself," Christian murmured, forcing himself to ignore how close they were.

Vrix's jaw tensed. "Then why am I here?"

Silence.

Christian didn't have an answer. Or maybe, he had too many.

Vrix lingered for just a second longer before stepping back, his usual cold mask slipping back into place. "Get some rest," he said, voice low and rough.

And just like that, the moment was gone.

Christian stood there, heart pounding, staring at Vrix's back as he walked away—wondering what the hell just happened.