"You think this job is a joke?" he asked icily. "Late on your second week? What's next? You forget to come entirely?"
"It wasn't intentional—" she started, but he cut her off.
"Intentional or not, this is a place of order and commitment. I don't have time for excuses, especially not from someone who thinks a pretty face will save her job."
His words stung—hard. She swallowed and nodded.
"Now get out."
She left the office, heart pounding and eyes burning. Back in her seat, she buried her face in her hands and let a few tears fall. Quiet. Frustrated. Hurt.
"You need to get it together Saphina " she said to herself
By the evening time , Tristan called her again to submit reports.
She walked into his office straight-backed, expression unreadable. No smile, no apology. Just the files, neatly arranged.But something in her has changed
She placed them on his desk, eyes fixed forward. "Here are the reports, sir. Everything is in order."
Tristan looked up, momentarily surprised by her cold professionalism. He didn't say anything. Neither did she.
As she turned to leave, he watched her closely. There was something in the way she carried herself now—controlled, confident, even cold.
And for the first time… he felt a strange tug in his chest.
But he said nothing.
Not yet.
The sky had begun to darken into a calm, golden dusk as Saphina Rose Hadley stepped out of the office building, the day's stress clinging to her like a second skin. Her heels clicked softly against the pavement, and her tote bag hung from one shoulder, packed with documents she planned to review later that night. Her steps were slower than usual—her mind still lingered on the cold way Tristan had scolded her earlier.
She sighed. "Why does he get to me like this?"
Lost in thought, she didn't notice the figure waiting by the nearby bus stop until he stepped forward.
"Hey… Saphina, right?"
She blinked and looked up.
It was Jack.
The same kind man who had helped her that morning when her clothes were ruined.
He wore a navy-blue shirt rolled at the sleeves, hands in his pockets, eyes twinkling with charm.
"Jack," she smiled, surprised but genuinely pleased. "Hi. What are you doing here?"
"I was just heading home," he said casually. "Didn't expect to run into you again so soon. Or maybe… I was hoping I would."
Saphina chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Well, I guess luck's on your side."
They both laughed, the tension from her long day slowly fading.
Earlier that morning, when Saphina had been splashed by the passing car, Jack had noticed her instantly—her beauty, her poise—but more importantly, the small, silver badge pinned to her soaked blouse: *Velvet Corporation*.
Tristan Lucien Moretti's company.
And just like that, an opportunity had opened before him.
Because Jack wasn't just a stranger or a helpful passerby.
He was the son of one of Tristan's fiercest enemies The Romano clans —a rival mafia family long believed to be silenced. But they weren't gone. Not at all.
And now?
Now Jack had found the perfect key to get close to Tristan.
Saphina.
"So," Jack said, walking beside her as she headed toward the main road, "how was work? Hope your boss isn't too scary."
She hesitated. "Let's just say… he's a handful."
"That bad?"
"He's… professional. But demanding. Sometimes, I feel like I can't breathe around him."
Jack raised a brow. "Sounds intense."
Saphina nodded. "It is. But I'm not giving up. I worked too hard to get this job."
Jack smiled at that. "I like that about you. Strong, determined." He paused for a moment. "So… can I have your number?"
Saphina hesitated just a second, then smiled. "Sure."
She unlocked her phone and handed it to him. He typed in his number and saved it under "Jack (New Friend)."
"I'll call you," he said with a grin, handing the phone back. "Maybe we can hang out sometime. No puddles or chaos, I promise."
She laughed again. "We'll see about that."
They both said their goodbyes and parted ways, and as Saphina walked down the sidewalk, a small smile lingered on her lips. The day had started rough—but this small, sweet moment somehow made it feel lighter.
But behind her, Jack didn't walk off with the same cheer.
As soon as she turned the corner, a slow smirk crawled across his lips.
He pulled out his own phone and stared down at the number he had just saved.
"Perfect," Jack muttered under his breath, eyes dark with intention. "The right pawn to destroy Tristan Lucien Moretti … and everything he's built."
Just then, a sleek black car rolled to a stop beside him. Without hesitation, the back door swung open, and Jack slid in, his smirk never leaving his face. The door shut softly behind him, and within seconds, the car merged back into traffic, swallowed by the shadows of the city.
***
Meanwhile, across the city, the night had settled over Saphina's apartment like a velvet curtain. She stood barefoot in her small living room, her laptop open and papers spread out across her coffee table.
The lights flickered faintly overhead, the only sound being the ticking wall clock and the soft shuffle of pages as she reviewed her tasks for tomorrow.
She'd promised herself she would do better.
No more late arrivals. No more mistakes. No more reasons for Tristan to scold her.
She was new, yes. But she was not weak.
Still, even as she tried to focus, her mind kept drifting… back to him.
Tristan Moretti
Her boss. Her intimidating, impossibly attractive, and undeniably cold boss.
She leaned back on the couch, a soft sigh escaping her lips.
*Why is he like that?* she wondered. *So distant. So controlled. Almost like he built walls around himself and forgot how to take them down.*
Was it just professionalism? Or was there something deeper? Something that made him push people away?
She closed her eyes briefly.
Maybe he didn't have anyone growing up—no one to teach him softness, no one to calm his storms. Maybe he was raised with power, not love. Commands, not comfort.
*But why am I even thinking about this?* she scolded herself silently, opening her eyes.
She barely knew him.
Still, there was something about the way he looked at her sometimes. Like he was trying not to feel anything. Like he was scared to.
But that didn't change how he acted. The way he'd snapped at her earlier still stung. The sharpness in his tone… like she was nothing but a burden. She had fought tears all day, pushing through the whispers from jealous co-workers, ignoring the silent stares from women who envied her presence near him.
*They don't even know I cried in the office bathroom,* she thought bitterly.
And still, here she was… thinking about him.
She gathered her files and neatly stacked them, placing them beside her laptop. Then, she rose and walked to the small window that looked out over the quiet street.
Down below, a couple laughed as they passed by. A man carried a bouquet of roses. A child skipped along the sidewalk.
She stood alone, arms folded around herself, wondering why a man like Tristan, who had everything… looked uulike he was carrying the weight of the world alone.
And why a part of her wanted to understand that pain.
Even if he never let her close enough to try.
She turned off the light and went to bed, unaware that the game around her had already begun.