HIS BUTTERFLY {RU AND ART}
Ep::02::
The backstage of the fashion show buzzed with energy and chaos. Models flitted between makeup stations, the scent of hairspray hanging heavy in the air. Stylists moved quickly, pinning fabric, smoothing wrinkles, and adjusting seams with practiced precision. Racks of shimmering gowns and tailored suits lined the walls, sequins catching the bright vanity lights.
Rusha Mitchell
(in a dress, fabric cool against skin, the weight of delicate wings brushing against her back)
The lights dimmed, the music swelled.
The bass of the music echoed throughout the floor. But it was nothing compared to the thunder of impatience radiating form him.
ARTHUR MORRIS— THE INFAMOUS MAIFA KING 👑.
Arthur Morris
(sat in the front row, fingers drumming a lethal rhythm against the armrest)
Arthur Morris
(eyes a glacier storm as he glanced at his secretary)
Nashi(Arthur's assistant)
(flinched)
Arthur Morris
Explain to me.(voice arctic, each word a dagger) Why this damn Meeting is at a fashion show.❄️
Nashi(Arthur's assistant)
T- The CEO insisted, Sir. Said it couldn't wait—
Arthur Morris
It'll wait.(already rising from his seat)(long coat sweeping behind him)
Arthur Morris
❄️ I have no time for this—
He stopped. His breath hitched, eyes snapping back to the stage.
His world narrowed to the sight of her draped in that ethereal butterfly gown, eyes sharp and smile sweet enough to be deadly. The lights crowned her in gold, turning her every step into a sinuous glide, and Arthur, who had faced death and worse without flinching, stood frozen.
Rusha Mitchell
(eyes met his)(the sweet smile shifted—something darker, wicked at the edges)
Arthur Morris
(pulse stumbled)
Rusha Mitchell
(step forward with lethal grace, not stopping until she reached the edge of the ramp)
She knelt with a fluidity that left the audience breathless, legs draped over the edge, and leaned in until her face was mere inches from his. The world fell away, leaving only the heady scent of her and the knowing glint in her gaze. Arthur forgot how to breathe.
Rusha Mitchell
(placed fingertip beneath his chin, tilting his face up with a command that made his blood rush in his ears)
Rusha Mitchell
(smirk) Like what you saw?(murmured in low, sultry tone)
Arthur Morris
(stood froze, cheeks turned crimson)
Cheeks flaring crimson with a betrayal so violent it left his secretary’s jaw unhinged. The mafia king, feared across continents, stood there with wide eyes and a racing heart, struck silent by the curve of her lips and sparkly eyes.
Rusha Mitchell
(smiles in satisfaction)
The show ended in a crescendo of applause, lights dimming and the spell broke—at least for the audience.
Arthur Morris
(surged forward, intent fixed)
But a wall of security cut him off.
security
Authorized personnel only, sir.
Arthur Morris
(eyes darkened, a lethal chill setting into his gaze)
The guards shifted, tension snapping tight. He was seconds from unleashing that cold rage, voice already sharpening—until he spotted her, slipping through the crowd like silk through fingers.
Arthur Morris
Miss—!(an urgent voice range out)
Rusha Mitchell
(didn't turn)
Arthur Morris
(something close to panic surged into him)(scream louder)MISS!
Arthur Morris
Miss Butterfly!(desperate voice rang the whole venue)
Everyone stopped and looked at him.
Arthur Morris
(leap to her in a heartbeat, long strides closing the distance until he reached her)
Arthur Morris
M-May I ask your name?(stuttered)
The words clumsy and rough in a way that had the security guards exchanging wide-eyed glances. Arthur Morris didn’t stutter. He commanded, he demanded—but this wasn’t a demand. This was a man stripped of defenses, raw and unsteady.
Rusha Mitchell
(smirk)(leaned in as her lips slightly brushed against his ear) If destiny allows ..... I'll tell you my name next time we meet.
Then she pulled back, not waiting for his response, and swept past him in a drift of perfume and silk. The cool night air bit at her skin as she exited the venue, leaving behind chaos and gasps—but all she could think about was the stunned look in those storm-gray eyes, the faint flush high on those sharp cheekbones.
Comments
Tijung😜😏😜
Oh so this is how Rusha got her 'nickname' butterfly from him
2025-04-18
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