He Walked Into The Wrong Hotel Room… And The Mafia Boss Became Obsessed With Him
Wesley Carter had exactly 30 days left in Seoul and he planned to survive every single one of them quietly.
No drama, no attachments, no mistakes.
He repeated that to himself every morning while tying his uniform tie inside the employee locker room of the Grand Orion Hotel.
30 more days, then back to America, back to a life that made sense.
“Are you seriously counting down again?”
His co-worker Mina asked while stacking fresh towels into a cart.
“Yes.”
Wesley answered without looking up.
“It helps.”
“You’ve been saying that for 3 months.”
“And in 30 days, I’ll finally stop.”
Mina studied him for a second before sighing.
“You know, most people leave Seoul with memories, friends, relationships, at least one terrible decision.”
Wesley gave a small smile.
“I’m trying to avoid all three.”
That was the truth.
Wesley had spent the last 2 years learning how to stay emotionally unavailable.
His ex-boyfriend back in Chicago used to complain that Wesley never let anyone get too close.
Eventually, the guy left with a classic line, “You’re kind, Wes, but it feels like loving a locked door.”
Maybe he was right.
Maybe Wesley was difficult to love, but being careful hurt a lot less than being abandoned.
An hour later, Wesley was pushing a room service cart toward the private VIP floors.
The hotel had been chaotic all week because some powerful businessman had bought a large share of the building overnight.
Nobody knew much about him, only whispers.
Rich, dangerous, European, connected to people you didn’t ask questions about.
Wesley didn’t care.
Rich men stayed in hotels every day.
They came.
They left.
That was the entire point.
He checked the order ticket again.
Suite 1808.
Easy.
He knocked twice.
Room service.
No answer.
He waited a second, then tried again.
Room service, sir.
Still nothing.
Wesley frowned.
Guests on the VIP floor often ignored staff.
He used the service card and pushed the door open carefully.
I’m coming in with your The sentence died in his throat.
A man stood near the window with his back partially turned.
Tall, broad shoulders, black dress shirt rolled to the elbows.
There was blood on his hand.
Not a little blood.
Fresh blood.
Wesley froze so hard his brain stopped working for a full second.
The man slowly turned around.
Dark hair, sharp jaw, cold gray eyes that looked almost inhuman under the dim light.
Calm.
Too calm.
Wesley’s stomach dropped.
Oh god, wrong room.
I’m so sorry.
Wesley blurted immediately.
I thought this was 1808.
I knocked twice.
I swear I knocked.
The man said nothing.
That silence somehow made it worse.
Wesley quickly lowered his eyes.
I’ll leave right now.
Still silence.
Then finally a low voice.
What’s your name?
Wesley blinked.
That was not the reaction he expected.
Wesley.
Wesley Carter.
The man studied him for another long second, like he was trying to understand something.
You’re American.
Yes, sir.
Again, silence.
Wesley noticed another man lying unconscious near the couch and immediately looked away.
Nope.
Absolutely not his business.
Whatever happened in this room needed to stay very far away from him.
I’m sorry for interrupting.
Wesley said again, already backing toward the door.
This time the stranger nodded once.
Close the door behind you.
Wesley practically escaped.
The moment the elevator doors shut, he exhaled so hard his chest hurt.
His hands were shaking.
He stared at his own reflection in the elevator mirror.
What the hell was that?
Back downstairs, Mina immediately noticed his face.
Okay, you look like you saw a ghost.
Not a ghost, Wesley muttered.
Maybe a serial killer.
What?
I opened the wrong suite.
Mina gasped.
Which one?
The private penthouse.
Her eyes widened instantly.
Wait.
The new owner’s floor?
I don’t know who he is and I don’t want to know.
Well, too bad, she whispered dramatically.
People are saying he’s mafia.
Wesley stared at her.
That’s not funny.
I’m serious.
Italian mafia or something.
Wesley let out a tired laugh.
Yeah, okay.
But later that night, while folding towels alone in storage, he couldn’t stop thinking about the man’s eyes.
Not because they were attractive.
Wesley refused to think that.
It was something else.
The guy looked exhausted.
Not physically, worse.
Like someone who hadn’t slept peacefully in years.
Upstairs, Xavier De Luca sat alone in the dark suite after everyone else had left.
The blood was gone now.
The mess cleaned.
The man who betrayed him had been removed hours ago.
But Xavier still hadn’t moved from the chair near the window.
His right hand rested against his temple while the city lights blurred outside.
Across the room, his second-in-command Matteo spoke carefully.
The hotel acquisition papers are ready.
Xavier barely reacted.
Matteo frowned slightly.
You approved the purchase faster than expected.
Still silence.
Then Xavier finally asked the employee from earlier.
Wesley Carter.
Matteo blinked once.
The room service worker?
Yes.
You want a background check?
Yes.
That answer came too fast.
Matteo studied him carefully but didn’t comment.
Xavier never cared about staff, never noticed them, never remembered names.
Until now.
An hour later, Matteo returned with a thin file.
American, 26, working here 2 years, no criminal record, resigned last week.
Xavier finally looked up.
Resigned?
He’s leaving Seoul next month.
Something about that information irritated Xavier immediately, though he couldn’t explain why.
Matteo continued carefully.
Should I be concerned about him seeing earlier events tonight?
No.
Xavier leaned back slowly.
He looked away.
That was true.
Wesley had clearly seen enough to ask questions, but he chose not to.
Most people would have stared.
Most people would have panicked or tried to use the information somehow.
Wesley just apologized and left.
Strange.
Very strange.
That night, Xavier fell asleep on the couch without meaning to.
And for the first time in 4 years, he didn’t dream about Luke dying.
No blood, no screaming, no waking up unable to breathe.
Just silence.
Real sleep.
Xavier woke up sharply at 4:00 in the morning, immediately realizing something was wrong.
Or maybe right.
He sat there for a long moment, staring into the darkness.
Then quietly said the name to himself.
Wesley.
The next morning, the Grand Orion Hotel exploded into chaos.
Managers running everywhere.
Staff whispering non-stop.
Security doubled overnight.
Wesley was carrying fresh laundry when the head supervisor suddenly called his name.
Wesley Carter, office, now.
His stomach immediately dropped.
Great.
He knew it.
He was fired.
Mina grabbed his arm dramatically before he walked away.
If they found out you entered the wrong suite, tell my mother I loved her.
You are not helping.
Inside the office, three managers sat waiting with unusually serious expressions.
Wesley straightened nervously.
Sir, if this is about last night, I can explain.
You’ve been reassigned.
He blinked.
What?
Starting today, you’ll be handling private VIP service exclusively.
That’s a promotion?
In a sense.
Wesley frowned.
For who?
Nobody answered immediately.
And the supervisor cleared his throat.
Mr. Xavier De Luca personally requested you.
The room suddenly felt colder.
Wesley stared at them.
Requested me?
Yes.
What?
Another uncomfortable silence.
Finally, the manager said carefully, “Mr. De Luca prefers consistency.”
That sounded fake even to Wesley.
Still, refusing a direct request from the man who practically owned the hotel now was impossible.
20 minutes later, Wesley stood outside the private penthouse suite again with a tray in his hands, and tension twisting in his stomach.
He knocked carefully this time.
A deep voice answered almost immediately.
Come in.
Wesley stepped inside slowly.
Xavier stood near the dining table wearing a dark suit now, completely calm, like the terrifying scene from last night had never happened.
But those same cold gray eyes locked on to Wesley instantly.
Wesley forced himself into professional mode.
Good morning, sir.
Your coffee.
Xavier watched him approach.
You almost quit, he said suddenly.
Wesley paused.
Sir, you resigned.
Oh.
So, he really had investigated him.
That’s personal, Wesley answered carefully.
Answer anyway.
Wesley hesitated, then sighed softly.
I wanted a fresh start.
And Soul isn’t that?
No, sir.
Xavier stared at him for a moment longer before quietly asking, “Where will you go?”
“Home.”
Something unreadable crossed Xavier’s expression.
Then he stepped closer, not enough to touch him, just enough for Wesley to suddenly become very aware of how tall he was.
“From now on,” Xavier said calmly, “you’ll only work this floor.”
Wesley swallowed slightly.
“Only this floor?”
“Yes.”
“That seems unnecessary.”
“It’s already decided.”
There was no aggression in his voice.
Somehow that made it harder to argue with.
Wesley adjusted the tray nervously.
“If there’s nothing else you need, sir.”
Before he could finish, Xavier spoke again.
“You’re afraid of me.”
Wesley looked up too quickly.
“No.”
A pause.
Then more honestly, “Maybe a little.”
To his surprise, Xavier almost smiled.
“Good,” he said quietly.
“That means you’re smarter than most people around me.”
And for some reason, that answer stayed in Wesley’s chest long after he left the room.
Wesley quickly learned that working exclusively on Xavier De Luca’s floor was nothing like normal hotel service.
The schedule was quieter, the hallways emptier, and the security far more intense.
Men in dark suits stood near elevators pretending not to watch everything.
Expensive cars arrived at strange hours.
Meetings happened behind closed doors with voices low enough that nobody could hear details.
Wesley told himself not to care.
He only had a few weeks left in Seoul.
Survive the month.
Leave clean.
That was still the plan.
The problem was Xavier himself.
The man kept doing things that made it impossible to stay emotionally distant.
Three days after the reassignment, Wesley entered the suite one morning carrying coffee and nearly stopped in surprise.
Xavier was already awake, sitting at the dining table with documents spread everywhere.
Normally, the man looked perfectly controlled, but today he looked exhausted.
His tie was loose, his eyes shadowed from lack of sleep.
“You’re up early.”
Wesley said before thinking.
Xavier glanced at him.
“You’re observant.”
“You look terrible.”
The words slipped out accidentally.
For half a second, silence filled the room.
Wesley immediately regretted it.
“Sorry.
That sounded rude.”
But Xavier just leaned back slightly, watching him with quiet interest.
“Most people lie to me.”
“I’m not most people.”
“I noticed.”
Wesley placed the coffee down.
“You should probably sleep more.”
“And you should probably stop giving orders to your employer.”
Wesley almost smiled despite himself.
“That wasn’t an order.”
“It sounded like one.”
Strangely, Xavier picked up the coffee immediately after that conversation and actually drank it while it was still hot.
Wesley noticed because later that afternoon, the empty cup was still sitting beside Xavier’s paperwork instead of untouched like usual.
Small thing, but weirdly satisfying.
Over the next week, more strange things started happening.
Wesley’s schedule suddenly became easier.
Heavy cleaning duties disappeared.
Somebody approved longer breaks for him without explanation.
Every time difficult guests stayed on the VIP floor, security somehow redirected them away from Wesley specifically.
At first, he assumed management was being unusually kind.
Then Mina ruined that illusion immediately.
“You know the scary mafia guy is totally obsessed with you, right?”
Wesley nearly choked on his water.
“He is not.”
“He absolutely is.”
“He barely talks.”
“That’s worse.”
Mina whispered dramatically.
“Men like that don’t waste attention on people unless they care.
Wesley rolled his eyes, but later that evening he found himself thinking about it anyway because Mina wasn’t completely wrong.
Xavier watched him constantly.
Not in a creepy way, not openly, but every time Wesley entered a room he felt those gray eyes follow him quietly like Xavier was trying to solve a puzzle nobody else could see.
And honestly, Wesley didn’t understand it either.
One night a drunk VIP guest grabbed Wesley’s wrist near the elevator and smirked.
You Americans always look prettier in person.
Wesley immediately tried pulling away.
Sir, let go.
The man tightened his grip instead.
Relax.
I’m complimenting you.
Before Wesley could react again, another hand suddenly appeared and yanked the guest backward hard enough to slam him against the wall.
Xavier.
The entire hallway went silent instantly.
Xavier didn’t raise his voice.
Somehow that made it scarier.
You touched him.
The drunk man laughed nervously.
Come on, it’s not serious.
It becomes serious when you ignore the word no.
His tone stayed perfectly calm, but Wesley saw genuine danger in Xavier’s eyes for the first time.
The guest saw it, too.
I apologize.
The man muttered immediately.
Xavier stared at him another long second before finally stepping back.
Leave my hotel.
The man disappeared almost instantly.
Silence remained afterward.
Wesley rubbed his wrist awkwardly.
You didn’t have to do that.
Yes, I did.
It wasn’t a big deal.
Xavier looked at him sharply.
Don’t say that.
Wesley blinked slightly.
Xavier exhaled slower this time.
People touching you when you clearly don’t want them to is a very big deal.
For some reason, the quiet anger in his voice hit Wesley harder than the incident itself.
“Thank you,” he said softly.
Xavier’s expression changed slightly at that.
Softer, less guarded.
Then, almost like he regretted letting the moment become personal, he stepped back toward professionalism again.
“Go finish your shift.”
But after that night, something between them shifted.
Not dramatically, just enough that Wesley stopped feeling nervous every time he entered the suite.
A few days later, Xavier was on a call when Wesley brought lunch upstairs.
The conversation sounded tense and mostly Italian, but Xavier suddenly coughed hard midway through it.
Wesley frowned immediately.
The coughing continued.
Without thinking much, Wesley walked to the kitchen counter, poured warm water, added honey from the tea tray, then crossed the room and held the cup out.
Xavier paused mid-sentence.
The men on the phone were apparently still talking loudly, but Xavier ignored them completely while staring at Wesley instead.
“What is this?”
He asked quietly.
“Honey water.
Your throat sounds terrible.”
A pause.
Then Xavier calmly hung up on whoever he’d been speaking to.
Wesley blinked.
“Were you in the middle of something important?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you hang up?”
Xavier took the cup from him slowly.
“Because you sounded more important.”
The answer hit harder than it should have.
Wesley looked away first.
Dangerous.
That was becoming dangerous.
Later that same week, Wesley accidentally discovered the locked room.
He was bringing fresh towels upstairs while Xavier was out in meetings.
One of the doors near the back hallway had been left slightly open for the first time.
Wesley normally wouldn’t snoop.
Really.
But he only intended to close the door.
Then he looked inside and froze.
The room was an office.
It looked preserved, like somebody’s life had been carefully packed away, but never truly touched again.
There are photographs everywhere.
A dark-haired man smiling beside Xavier on a boat.
Another picture of them sitting together on a balcony in Italy.
A silver watch placed carefully inside glass.
Old handwritten letters stacked beside a record player.
And in the center frame, one photo larger than the others.
Xavier smiling.
Actually smiling.
Not controlled the expression Wesley knew.
Real happiness.
Open.
Warm.
Wesley stared at it silently.
That was Luke.
The voice behind him nearly made him jump.
Xavier stood in the doorway.
Wesley stepped back immediately.
I’m sorry.
The door was open.
I wasn’t trying to It’s fine.
No anger.
That surprised Wesley more than anything.
His eyes slowly returned to the photographs.
You loved him.
Xavier was quiet for several seconds.
Yes.
The answer carried so much weight that Wesley suddenly understood something important.
Xavier wasn’t emotionally cold.
He was grieving.
Still grieving.
Years later.
He died four years ago, Xavier said quietly.
Someone betrayed us.
Luke got in front of a bullet before I could.
Wesley’s chest tightened.
I’m sorry.
So was I.
The silence afterward felt painfully human.
Not mafia boss and hotel employee.
Just two men standing inside a room full of memories neither of them knew how to fix.
Finally Wesley asked softly, why keep all this locked away?
Xavier’s gaze stayed on the photographs.
Because if I close the door completely, he stopped there for a second before finishing more quietly.
It feels like he disappears.
That answer almost hurt to hear.
Wesley looked back at the picture of Xavier’s smiling beside Luke and realized something else, too.
Xavier had not looked truly alive in a very long time.
Then suddenly Xavier looked directly at him.
You’re the first person who’s entered this room since his funeral.
Wesley’s breath caught slightly.
What?
Another pause.
“Because,” Xavier said carefully, “you’re the first person I’ve wanted to let inside.”
The air shifted instantly after that sentence.
Too personal.
Too honest.
Wesley stepped back first.
I should finish work.
Xavier nodded once, though disappointment flashed briefly across his face before disappearing again.
Wesley hurried out of the room with his heart beating far too fast.
Downstairs later that night, Mina took one look at him and frowned.
Okay.
Now you definitely look like someone having crisis.
Wesley sat heavily beside her.
What do you do when a bad idea starts feeling safe?
Mina blinked.
Oh, no.
What?
You’re falling for him.
By the time Wesley realized Mina was probably right, it was already too late.
The change happened slowly enough that he didn’t notice it at first.
He stopped counting the days left in Seoul.
Stopped checking flight prices back to Chicago every night before bed.
Somehow his routine had quietly started revolving around Xavier without him meaning for it to happen.
He knew what time Xavier usually skipped meals.
He knew the exact look on a man’s face right before a migraine started.
He knew Xavier pretended to be calm whenever stress got bad, but his fingers tapped once against the table without realizing it.
And worst of all, Wesley cared.
One rainy evening, Wesley arrived upstairs with dinner and found Xavier asleep on the couch again with paperwork scattered across the floor.
The television was still on silently in the background.
Half the lights in the suite were off.
Wesley sighed softly.
You’re going to destroy your spine sleeping like that.
Xavier’s eyes opened immediately, alert within seconds.
Dangerous instinct.
Mafia instincts Wesley guessed, but then Xavier realized it was him and relaxed again.
What time is it?
Xavier asked quietly.
Almost midnight.
You’re still working too.
I’m delivering your dinner because apparently nobody taught you how to eat without supervision.
To Wesley’s surprise, Xavier actually smiled faintly.
A real one.
Small, tired, but real.
That stupid little smile did something dangerous to Wesley’s chest.
You’re bossy lately, Xavier murmured.
You’re impossible lately.
Wesley placed the tray down, then noticed the untouched lunch from earlier still sitting near the kitchen counter.
His expression immediately changed.
You skipped lunch too?
Xavier didn’t answer fast enough.
Xavier.
The slipped out naturally.
Not sir, not Mr. DeLuca.
Just Xavier.
The silence afterward felt strangely intimate.
Then Xavier spoke softly.
You only use my name when you’re worried.
Wesley looked away first.
Eat your dinner.
This time Xavier obeyed without argument.
Wesley stayed while he ate.
Neither of them mentioned it.
The quiet between them no longer felt awkward anymore.
It felt familiar.
Too familiar.
A week later, Peter arrived in Seoul.
The moment Wesley saw his best friend walking through the hotel lobby with messy blonde hair and an exhausted grin, he immediately laughed and hugged him hard.
Holy hell, Peter groaned dramatically.
This city is expensive.
You’re the one who booked the flight last minute.
Worth it.
Peter stepped back, studying him carefully.
Okay, why do you suddenly look happier?
I do not.
You absolutely do.
Wesley rolled his eyes.
You’ve been here 30 seconds and I already know something’s going on.
Peter had known Wesley for almost eight years.
Hiding things from him was nearly impossible.
Still, Wesley tried anyway.
Nothing’s happening.
Right.
Peter smirked.
So, who’s the guy?
There is no guy.
Peter looked completely unconvinced.
Later that night, they grabbed dinner outside the hotel and for the first time in weeks, Wesley genuinely relaxed.
Around Peter, things felt easy, familiar, safe.
He laughed more, smiled more.
Across the street, a black car stopped at a traffic light.
Inside the backseat, Xavier looked up from his phone at exactly the wrong moment and saw Wesley smiling at another man.
The sight hit harder than expected.
Wesley looked warm sitting there, comfortable, open in a way Xavier almost never saw upstairs.
His entire face changed when he laughed.
Something sharp twisted painfully in Xavier’s chest.
Matteo noticed immediately.
Problem?
Xavier kept staring through the window.
Who is that with him?
Matteo followed his gaze.
No idea.
The traffic light turned green, but Xavier barely noticed.
For the rest of the drive home, he stayed unusually silent.
Back at the hotel later that night, Wesley entered the suite carrying tea and paused immediately when he saw Xavier standing alone near the window.
The mood felt wrong, cold.
You’re back late, Xavier said quietly.
Wesley blinked.
I was off tonight.
With him?
It wasn’t really a question.
Wesley nodded slowly.
That’s my friend Peter.
Xavier’s jaw tightened slightly.
Friend?
Yes.
Silence stretched.
Then Xavier asked, “Does he make you happy?”
The question caught Wesley off guard.
“What?”
“You smile differently around him.”
Wesley didn’t know how to answer that honestly without making things weird.
“He’s important to me.”
He said carefully.
Xavier looked away toward the city lights again.
“I see.”
The conversation should have ended there.
Instead, Wesley found himself asking quietly, “Are you jealous?”
That made Xavier finally turn back toward him.
The silence that followed felt heavy, dangerous.
Then Xavier answered honestly, “Yes.”
Wesley’s heart immediately started beating too fast because Xavier didn’t sound possessive.
He sounded hurt.
Before either of them could say anything else, the suite doors opened and three men entered without warning.
Expensive suits, cold expressions, dangerous energy.
Wesley instantly understood these weren’t normal business associates.
One of men noticed him immediately and smirked.
“So this is the American.”
The tone alone made Wesley uncomfortable.
Xavier’s expression hardened at once.
“Watch your mouth.”
The man raised both hands lazily.
“Relax.
I’m complimenting your taste.”
Wesley quietly moved toward the kitchen area trying to disappear into professionalism again.
But the man kept looking at him too long.
“You’ve gotten soft lately, Xavier.”
He said casually.
“People are noticing.”
The room temperature seemed to drop instantly.
Mateo stepped forward slightly like he was preparing for violence.
Xavier’s voice became terrifyingly calm.
“Leave.”
The man laughed once.
“You think I’m wrong?”
“Leave before I stop asking.”
The tension in the room turned razor sharp.
Finally, the man smirked and backed toward the door.
Careful.
Weakness gets people killed.
The second the doors are shut behind them, silence exploded through the suite.
Wesley slowly looked toward Xavier.
Who were they?
People you don’t need to worry about.
That answer usually means I absolutely should worry.
Xavier walked closer this time.
Wesley.
Something in his tone made Wesley’s chest tighten.
You need to stay away from men like that.
You mean men like you?
The question landed harder than intended.
Xavier stopped moving.
For several seconds neither of them spoke.
Then Xavier answered quietly, yes.
That honesty somehow hurt worse.
Wesley crossed his arms tightly.
You don’t get to scare me away every time things become real.
Xavier’s expression changed slightly at that word.
Real?
You think this is safe?
Xavier asked softly.
No.
You think people around me won’t use you to hurt me?
Wesley hesitated.
Because honestly, he’d started realizing that possibility already.
Still, he forced himself to say, I’m not fragile.
I know that.
Xavier stepped closer again.
That’s what makes this harder.
The air between them suddenly felt far too personal, far too emotional.
And before Wesley could figure out what to say next, Xavier reached up slowly and brushed his thumb lightly against a bruise near Wesley’s wrist left from carrying heavy trays earlier that day.
It was a tiny touch, but Wesley’s breath caught instantly.
Xavier noticed.
Of course he noticed.
His voice dropped lower.
You should stop carrying things that hurt you.
The sentence clearly wasn’t just about trays anymore.
Wesley swallowed hard.
Xavier.
Then suddenly the man pulled his hand back like he’d crossed a line.
A wall slammed back into place across his expression.
I arranged new security for you,” Xavier said calmly.
“Matteo will drive you home from now on.”
Wesley stared at him.
“What?”
“It’s temporary.”
“Why would I need security?”
Xavier didn’t answer immediately.
That silence terrified Wesley more than any explanation could have.
Finally, Xavier said quietly, “Because someone asked about you tonight.”
The room went still.
Wesley’s heartbeat slowed in the worst possible way.
“You think they’d hurt me?”
Xavier looked directly into his eyes.
“Yes.”
For the first time since meeting him, Wesley truly understood what loving Xavier might cost.
And for the first time since Luke died, Xavier realized he was absolutely terrified of losing someone again.
Wesley barely slept after that conversation.
Every time he closed his eyes, he kept hearing Xavier’s voice again.
“Weakness gets people killed.”
The worst part was that Wesley finally understood why Xavier had started pulling away during the last few days.
The man wasn’t losing interest.
He was scared.
Truly scared.
And somehow that hurt more.
The next morning the hotel felt strangely tense.
Security doubled again.
Men in dark suits moved through the lobby speaking quietly into ear pieces.
Nobody explained anything to the staff.
Around noon, Mina hurried toward Wesley looking nervous.
“Okay, something’s definitely happening upstairs.”
“What do you mean?”
“Half the VIP elevators are locked down.”
Wesley’s stomach tightened immediately.
An hour later he carried fresh coffee to Xavier’s suite and froze the second he walked inside.
Boxes.
Documents.
Open suitcases.
His chest dropped instantly.
Xavier stood near the dining table signing paperwork while Matteo coordinated security by the door.
Wesley looked around slowly.
“What is this?
Nobody answered immediately.
Then Mateo glanced awkwardly toward Xavier before quietly leaving the room.
The silence afterward felt awful.
Wesley set the tray down carefully.
You’re leaving?
Xavier didn’t deny it.
For how long?
Wesley asked.
A while.
Something painful twisted hard inside his chest.
You were just going to disappear?
Xavier finally looked up.
It’s safer.
There it is again.
Wesley laughed weakly, anger and hurt mixing together.
You keep deciding things for me.
I’m trying to keep you alive.
And I’m trying to understand why you suddenly act like I mean nothing to you.
That landed.
Wesley saw immediately in Xavier’s expression.
Good.
Because he was tired of pretending this didn’t hurt.
You shouldn’t be involved with me, Xavier said quietly.
Too late.
The words slipped out before Wesley could stop them.
Silence crashed between them.
Xavier stared at him carefully now like one wrong movement might break something fragile.
Wesley’s voice became softer this time.
You don’t get to pull me close and then disappear when it scares you.
Xavier looked away first.
That alone told Wesley how emotional this really was.
I know what happens to people near me, Xavier said after a long pause.
Luke died because he stayed.
Wesley stepped closer slowly.
I’m not Luke.
I know.
Then stop treating me like I already have one foot in the grave.
Xavier exhaled hard through his nose, clearly struggling to stay calm.
You think I can survive watching it happen again?
That sentence broke something inside Wesley immediately.
Because for the first time, Xavier didn’t sound powerful.
He sounded terrified.
Real fear.
Real love.
Wesley swallowed against the tightness in his throat.
So your solution is to leave first?
Yes.
That’s stupid.
Xavier almost laughed once at that, bitter and exhausted.
Probably.
You know what the worst part is?
Wesley asked quietly.
I was actually starting to believe you’d stay.
Xavier looked back at him sharply.
Wesley hated how much emotion was suddenly sitting in his chest.
It felt too big now, too impossible to hide.
When I told me you were leaving, he admitted softly, I couldn’t breathe for a second.
The room went completely still.
Wesley laughed shakily and rubbed a hand over his face.
God, I sound pathetic.
No, Xavier said immediately.
You don’t.
Their eyes locked and finally, after weeks of dancing around the truth, Wesley stopped running from it.
I’m in love with you.
The confession came out quiet, honest, terrified.
Xavier froze.
Not because he didn’t believe him, because it clearly meant everything to him.
Wesley kept going before fear could stop him.
I tried really hard not to be.
I kept telling myself this was temporary, that you were dangerous, that none of this was real.
His voice cracked slightly.
But then you started remembering how I take my coffee.
You stayed awake until I got home safely.
You looked at me like I mattered.
He swallowed hard.
Nobody’s ever looked at me like that before.
Xavier’s breathing seemed uneven now.
Wesley stepped even closer.
So no, I’m not letting you vanish without saying something.
For second, Xavier just stared at him.
Then suddenly he reached out, grabbing Wesley’s wrist gently, but firmly enough to pull him closer.
You should hate me, Xavier whispered.
I tried.
And Wesley looked directly into his eyes.
Didn’t work.
Something inside Xavier finally cracked after that.
Years of control, years of grief, years of convincing himself he was too dangerous to deserve love again.
All of it shattered quietly in that room.
Xavier lifted a hand slowly and touched Wesley’s face like he still couldn’t believe this was real.
“I was fine before you.”
He admitted hoarsely.
Wesley gave him a small sad smile.
“No, you weren’t.”
Another silence.
Then Xavier laughed softly for the first time in days.
“You’re annoyingly honest.
You like that about me.”
“I do.”
The honesty in that answer nearly destroyed Wesley.
Xavier’s thumb brushed lightly beneath his eye.
“If you stay with me, your life changes.
I know there are risks.
I know people will come after you because of me.”
Wesley’s chest tightened, but he held Xavier’s gaze anyway.
“Then stop trying to protect me alone.”
That sentence hit hard.
Wesley could actually see the moment Xavier understood what he meant.
Not save me.
Stay with me.
The difference mattered a lot.
Xavier’s forehead slowly rested against Wesley’s.
Both of them breathing quietly in the middle of a half-packed suite.
“I don’t know how to do this anymore.”
Xavier admitted.
“Do what?”
“Love someone without being afraid.”
Wesley’s eyes burned suddenly because underneath all the power and control and violence, Xavier was just a man terrified of losing another person he loved.
So Wesley reached up carefully and held his face.
“You don’t have to be fearless.”
He whispered.
“You just have to stop running before anything even happens.”
Xavier closed his eyes for a second at that.
Then finally, he kissed him.
Slowly, carefully, like Wesley was something breakable and precious at the same time.
There was no aggression in it, no desperation, just relief, warmth.
Months of tension finally collapsing into something soft and real.
Wesley kissed him back instantly.
One hand gripping Xavier’s shirt tightly like he was afraid the man might still disappear if he let go.
When they finally pulled apart, both of them stayed close enough to share the same breath.
“You have no idea what you’ve done to me.”
Xavier murmured.
Wesley smiled shakily.
“Pretty sure I ruined your emotional stability.”
A quiet laugh escaped Xavier before he kissed his forehead gently.
Then sweet doors suddenly opened.
Matteo stopped dead in the doorway.
The poor man immediately looked away.
“I can come back.”
“No.”
Xavier said calmly, though one arm stayed around Wesley’s waist.
“What is it?”
“The issue has been handled.”
“Handled?”
Mafia language.
Wesley decided not to ask for details.
Matteo hesitated before adding carefully, “The threat won’t be a problem anymore.”
Xavier nodded once.
“Good.”
After Matteo left again, Wesley looked up slowly.
“Should I be concerned about what handled means?”
“Yes.”
Xavier answered honestly.
Wesley sighed.
“At least you’re truthful.”
“Always with you.”
That answer came too naturally now.
And somehow that felt more intimate than the kiss.
Three months later, Wesley stood inside the rooftop restaurant of the newest De Luca Hotel in Seoul staring at a disaster happening in the kitchen.
“You burned pancakes.”
He said flatly.
Xavier looked offended.
“I slightly overcooked them.”
“They’re black.”
“I was distracted.”
“You’re mafia boss.
How are you losing fights against breakfast food?”
Xavier walked over, wrapped both arms around Wesley’s waist from behind, and rested his chin on his shoulder.
“Because you keep talking while I cook.”
Wesley laughed softly despite himself.
The sound still affected Xavier every single time.
A lot of changed in 3 months.
Wesley officially canceled his flight back to Chicago.
Instead, he accepted a permanent management position at Xavier’s newest hotel.
Mina nearly screamed herself unconscious when she found out.
Peter visited constantly just to mock them both.
And Xavier?
Xavier actually slept now.
Not perfectly.
Some nights were still hard.
Some nightmares still came back.
But now, when Xavier woke up shaking at 3:00 in the morning, Wesley was there beside him.
Staying.
Always staying.
Late one night, Wesley woke up alone in bed and immediately knew where Xavier was.
Sure enough, he found him sitting at the dining table surrounded by paperwork again.
Wesley walked over barefoot and wrapped his arms around him from behind without saying anything.
Xavier relaxed instantly into the touch.
“You’re supposed to be sleeping.”
He murmured.
“So are you.
Five more minutes.”
“You said that 40 minutes ago.”
Xavier smiled tiredly and pulled Wesley into his lap.
“You monitor me too much.”
“You’re dramatic when left unsupervised.”
“Mhm.”
Xavier buried his face lightly against Wesley’s neck.
“Still staying?”
The question was quiet.
Small.
But Wesley understood what it really meant.
After everything, after all the fear, after Luke, after the running, Xavier still needed reassurance sometimes.
So, Wesley kissed of his head gently and whispered, “I’m home, aren’t I?”
For the first time in years, Xavier DeLuca truly believed he might be allowed to keep something good without losing it.
And this time, neither of them ran.
And maybe that’s the real reason some people enter our lives at the exact wrong moment.
Because they’re actually meant to stay forever.
Wesley thought he was leaving Soul behind.
And Xavier thought his heart died years ago with Luke, but sometimes love doesn’t arrive gently.
Sometimes it walks through the wrong door and changes everything.
Thank you so much for listening to this story.
If Wesley and Xavier stole your heart even a little, don’t forget to like, comment, and subscribe.
And tell me would you run from a storm like Xavier or if the stay felt like home.
Until next time.
