Boom awoke in a groggy haze, his head pounding with a splitting headache. Blinking against the darkness, he tried to make sense of his surroundings, but his blurred vision offered no help. The room was pitch black, unfamiliar.
Suddenly, the bathroom door creaked open, followed by a voice.
“What are you doing?” a stranger asked, raising a brow.
Boom turned his gaze toward the source of the voice—and froze. Standing at the bathroom door was a breathtaking man, topless, with only a towel wrapped around his waist. Boom’s mind blanked. His lips moved before he could stop them, murmuring quietly in Chinese, “Hen piaoliang.”
He hadn’t bothered to keep his voice low. After all, it was unlikely the stranger understood Chinese.
To his surprise, the man chuckled with a sneer. “So beautiful? I know that,” he said. “You can leave now. My assistant will contact you regarding the service rendered last night.”
Boom shot upright, face reddening with outrage.
“What the hell do you mean—‘service’? Who even are you? And what are you doing in my hotel room?” he demanded, firing the questions in one breath.
The man stared at him with a faint, mocking smile. His voice dropped, low and dangerous. “Who am I? Isn’t that the first question you should ask if you’re really going to pretend to be a white flower?”
Without waiting for a reply, the man walked out onto the balcony and pulled out his phone to make a call.
Boom was left speechless, his head pounding harder as he tried to piece together the events of the previous night. All he could recall was having drinks with his manager and the investors of the upcoming movie, The Falling. Everything after that was a blur. Now, here he was—in an unfamiliar room—with a stranger who seemed to know far too much.
He reached for his phone, intending to call his manager, Jack. But as he tried to sit up, a sharp pain pierced through him, and he slumped back down, gasping.
“Oh my God… Did I lose my virginity to a one-night stand? And with a man?” he muttered in disbelief, the words meant for no one but himself.
Shame washed over him. He needed to get out—fast. Peeking toward the balcony, Boom saw the stranger speaking in Spanish with a commanding tone. He exuded power, authority. Someone used to giving orders. Boom swallowed hard.
“I’d better get out of here before I end up in even more trouble,” he whispered.
He scrambled to collect his belongings, using his phone’s flashlight to avoid turning on the room lights and drawing the man’s attention. Once he had everything, he slipped out of the hotel room, wrapping a scarf tightly around his face in hopes of avoiding recognition.
He let out a breath of relief when he reached the elevator. While waiting, he tried calling Jack again, but the call wouldn’t go through.
“I have to handle this myself before things spiral,” he said with a sigh.
Ding.
The elevator doors slid open on the first floor. But before he could step out, the sudden blast of camera flashes and a rush of shouting voices stunned him.
“Mr. Boom Tharavin, were you messing around with the producer last night?”
“Is it true you slept your way to your current role?”
“Is your sponsor a sugar mommy—or daddy?”
Microphones and cameras were shoved in his face, making it hard to breathe. Panic rose in his chest.
Then, a cold, deep voice sliced through the chaos.
“He was with me last night.”
The reporters froze. Boom did too. Slowly, he turned toward the source of the voice—and his breath caught.
“It’s him,” he whispered.