Chapter 2

The moment I heard the chime, I pulled my hand back.

Now that he was booted up, it was time to test his performance.

I settled back onto the chaise, crossed my legs, and issued a new command:

"Kneel."

This time, he didn't just stand there like an expensive metal paperweight. He dropped to his knees on the carpet.

But his jawline was tight, his expression sour—exactly like the real Lysander.

Infuriating.

I reached out and gripped his chin, forcing his head up:

"You're supposed to smile while providing service. Got it?"

Lorian's pupils contracted slightly before he repeated: "Master...?"

Something was off about that tone.

It didn't sound submissive. More like he wanted to strangle me.

Genesis's programmers had clearly copy-pasted their CEO's personality straight into the code. Whatever—Reddit said these chips needed a "break-in period."

But watching Lysander's insufferable face kneel obediently between my legs? God, it felt incredible.

I snapped a photo from the perfect downward angle and sent it to my ex.

With the European time difference, his reply didn't come until midnight. Just dots.

I could practically hear him grinding his teeth across the Atlantic.

I laughed into my pillow until my stomach ached.

Best money I'd ever spent.

Lorian wasn't just perfect for pissing off my ex—he was flawless at housework too. French cuisine, wine cellar maintenance—he handled it all.

But staring at those perfect abs and feeling his body heat, I couldn't help thinking—spending millions on a robot just to do dishes seemed like a serious waste of hardware.

So after a few drinks one night, I ordered him into my bed.

At the command, he went rigid for half a minute.

Then his synthetic face actually flushed red.

Baffled. Silicone and titanium getting bashful?

I didn't wait for explanations. I stripped off his white shirt and shoved him onto my bed.

I wrapped myself around him like a body pillow, ready for sleep.

But something felt wrong. His temperature kept climbing, burning through his synthetic skin.

I frowned: "Is your cooling system broken?"

His Adam's apple bobbed. "No."

Annoyed, I moved to get up and email customer service.

Then my thigh brushed something unmistakably hard.

I stared at him in disbelief.

He looked down through his lashes, voice rough, eyes innocent:

"You activated my Intimacy Mode switch."

I was speechless for several seconds.

"Does Genesis actually sell normal robots? Why the hell would you have modes like that built in?"

Lorian's tone was innocent, logic flawless: "Companion androids are programmed to satisfy all their owner's needs."

That Silicon Valley capitalist bullshit actually sounded convincing.

Still, something felt off.

Before I could figure out what, he'd moved closer. His nose brushed my throat, voice low: "Want to run a test?"

He pressed my hand against his chest, rising and falling with simulated breathing, eyes innocent.

Who could resist?

Besides, I'd paid millions for this. Perfectly reasonable to use him however I wanted.

I kissed him without hesitation.

When filling out that customization form, I'd emphasized in bold caps just to spite my ex: size and performance must exceed the original in every way.

Genesis's delivery standards were devastatingly thorough.

God bless Silicon Valley.

My actions grew bolder—until Lorian caught my wrist and slammed on the brakes.

He was slightly breathless: "There aren't any condoms in the drawer."

I nearly lost it: "You're an android! You're not even carbon-based! Why do you care?"

He buried his face in my neck, voice tight: "My programming requires authentic human behavior. Proceeding without protection is disrespectful."

Who coded him, a Victorian nun?

No matter how much I coaxed, he wouldn't budge.

Furious, I bit his shoulder hard.

Finally, he sighed and kissed down from my neck, guiding my hand into his disheveled hair...

---

The next morning, I cheerfully ordered an entire case of ultra-thin condoms on Amazon.

After that, Lorian and I spent practically every night "debugging."

I had to admit, his hardware was nothing short of miraculous—obedient, compliant, service outstanding. I loved that feeling of absolute control.

The only side effect was that I shouldn't have used Lysander's face.

In certain oxygen-deprived moments, I'd slip and call out his name.

Sure, this was just an unfeeling pile of silicone, but it still felt weird.

Beyond that, I'd discovered a critical bug.

Once he entered Intimacy Mode, he habitually ignored stop commands—safe words just bounced off him like a firewall rejection.

I'd sternly reprimanded him several times afterward.

The damn machine would kneel obediently by the bed every time, attitude sincere. But the next night? Like clockwork, the same damn thing.

That's exactly why I'd sent that furious complaint email to customer service yesterday.

And that goddamn cloud patch was complete bullshit!

Last night, he'd completely ignored my "stop" again, switching from compliance mode straight into predatory mode.

His heavy frame pinned me down, one hand easily restraining both my wrists above my head while his hips drove forward with ruthless force.

That absolute domination made me livid.

I summoned a burst of strength, wrenched one hand free, and slapped Lorian hard across the face.

The impact against his hard synthetic bone structure left my palm stinging. The slap didn't stop him—if anything, it was like removing his speed limiter entirely.

He froze for a split second, eyes darkening instantly.

Then his movements turned savage, that entire night brutal enough to shatter me.

I woke up the next day feeling like I'd been run over by a bulldozer.

I immediately grabbed my phone and fired off an ultimatum to customer service:

[Your patch is a joke! I'm exercising my buyer's rights NOW. He needs to be returned to the factory for a full reset!]

I tossed my phone aside and struggled to get up for coffee.

It wasn't until I'd finished an entire cup that my phone finally buzzed:

[Dear Ms. Knight, we sincerely apologize. I'll have the engineering team review the core code again. This time we guarantee a complete fix.]

Classic Silicon Valley stalling tactics.

I sneered and typed back:

[Spare me the cloud testing BS! Tomorrow morning, send your recovery van to my door. Physical factory return. MANDATORY.]

The chat window fell into suspiciously long silence.

After a good while, the response came through:

[Understood. We will arrange retrieval tomorrow.]

I set down my phone and glanced toward the dining room.

Lorian seemed to have learned through cloud sync that he'd be sent back. He'd been radiating low pressure all day, like a kicked puppy.

By evening, I finally softened.

I leaned against the headboard and let him rest his head on my thigh, fingers running through his golden hair:

"Hey, don't sulk. It's just a tune-up. Once they fix that bug, I'll bring you right back."

He nodded pitifully through his lashes.

Then his arms wrapped around me, pulling me into his chest. He held on tight all night.