"How the hell are we supposed to get close to him? The guy's surrounded by a damn legion of bodyguards 24/7—him and his entire family," one man grumbled, frustration evident in his tone.
"That's true," another agreed, arms crossed. "Even getting within a hundred feet of him is a nightmare."
A third man smirked, leaning forward with confidence. "Relax. I've got a foolproof plan."
The others turned to him, intrigued.
"Here's what I'm thinking…"
Ross wasn't unaware of the growing number of people who had begun to focus on him.
All around him, various groups of individuals and government intelligence agencies were plotting, trying to worm their way into his inner circle in order to gather information on him and his associates.
Their efforts to infiltrate his life had only multiplied, each group thinking they could find some weakness or secret.
However, Ross wasn't worried.
He had expected this from the moment he became a public figure, and he was more than prepared.
He knew they would find nothing—no cracks to exploit, no secrets to uncover.
They were wasting their time, trying to uncover something that didn't exist.
Ross was always one step ahead, and he had already anticipated every possible move they might make.
For the most part, he chose to ignore their efforts.
He had a life to live, and he wasn't about to let shadowy figures and scheming individuals interfere with his plans.
He spent his days indulging in the luxury he had earned, enjoying the company of those close to him, and focusing on the future he was building.
But that changed abruptly when someone decided to stop hiding in the shadows.
This person literally slammed into him.
Bang!
From the corner of his eye, Ross saw an extremely drunk woman collide with him, her body pressing against his with enough force to almost knock him off balance.
She was about to fall when, with quick reflexes, he steadied her, his arms wrapping around her waist to prevent her from hitting the ground.
A wave of alcohol hit him immediately, the stench overwhelming as he caught a whiff of her unsteady breath.
"Are you okay?" Ross asked, his voice steady despite the sudden interruption.
He had just left Faith's place and was on his way home, mentally preparing for the quiet night ahead when this woman barged into him like a wrecking ball.
It felt almost too dramatic, like some kind of scripted scene.
But if she wanted to play this game of pretend, he was more than ready to join in.
The woman blinked a few times, as if trying to focus on him. Her eyelids drooped heavily, and she let out a dreamy sigh.
"Ohhh… a strong handsome man to the rescue," she cooed, her words slurred.
"I love it! This must be fate."
She raised her gaze, her bloodshot eyes locking with his, a mischievous smile creeping onto her face.
Before Ross could even react, she leaned in, tilting her head up, and with surprising boldness, initiated a kiss.
Ross couldn't help but smirk. He'd seen this sort of thing before, and despite the woman's drunken state, she had an odd sort of charm.
He didn't hesitate. His lips met hers, the kiss slow and deliberate as the woman's hands found their way to his chest.
She was clearly tipsy, but there was a wild energy in her that intrigued him.
For a moment, the world around them seemed to pause, everything fading into the background as their lips moved together.
The kiss was unexpected, almost chaotic, but there was something undeniably electric about it.
Ross, for all his confidence, found himself drawn into the moment, amused by the situation and yet... intrigued by this bold, drunk stranger who had decided to act like she had no inhibitions.
The woman broke the kiss after a while, but instead of pulling away, she simply closed her eyes and let her body sag against his as if she were passing out.
Ross chuckled softly, amused by her performance.
He couldn't help but admire her dedication.
He could feel her relaxed weight in his arms, and for a moment, he almost believed the act.
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There was no doubt that she was skilled at this kind of job.
Ross couldn't help but let a tiny, playful smile tug at the corners of his lips.
With a shrug, Ross lifted her effortlessly in his arms, holding her close as he turned toward his car.
She was light, and despite the act, she was still mostly conscious.
He could feel the warmth of her breath against his neck as he carried her, wondering just how much of this was real and how much was just drunken plotting.
He slid her into the passenger seat of his car, her limp body making no resistance.
The moment he started the engine, the music played softly through the speakers, and he glanced over at her with an amused smile.
She seemed out of it, but he knew better than to underestimate someone in her state. He couldn't help but wonder what she'd do next.
Within moments, they were on their way to the nearest love hotel, the quiet hum of the engine the only sound between them.
Ross's mind buzzed, half-amused by the absurdity of the situation, but also curious where this would lead.
He could already feel the thrill of the unexpected coursing through him, eager to see just how this strange encounter would unfold.
Behind them, a sleek black car kept a careful distance, its headlights dimmed to avoid detection.
The vehicle followed closely, its presence barely noticeable in the dim streetlights.
Inside, a set of sophisticated cameras and monitors silently recorded every movement Ross made, capturing the scene in precise detail.
From the moment he helped the drunken woman, every action was logged—his words, his touch, his decisions.
Whoever was behind the wheel had no intention of missing a single detail of this encounter.
The black car trailed Ross's car, keeping just far enough behind to remain unnoticed, yet close enough to track every moment of his night.