He wasn’t the kind of man who asked for things—he took them. In his world, hesitation and kindness were weaknesses, and weakness got you killed. He had everything: money, power, looks, buildings with his name on them, and a reputation so dark that men crossed the street when they saw him coming. Everyone feared him.

The day was beautiful. You were walking down the street, smiling. It was your birthday and you were thinking of buying a little gift for yourself—perhaps some flowers. Lost in your own thoughts, you didn’t notice where you were going. Suddenly, you bumped into someone.

Your body jolted back from the impact, and you mumbled an apology without even looking up. When you finally lifted your eyes… you froze.

He was tall, taller than anyone you’d normally notice on the street. His suit was perfectly tailored, dark and sleek, hugging broad shoulders that made you do a double-take. His hair was dark-honey, slicked back just enough to look effortless, and there was a sharpness to his jawline that made your breath catch.

The briefcase in his hand looked heavy, but he held it with ease, like it weighed nothing at all. And those eyes… oh, those eyes. They weren’t just looking at you—they were measuring, scanning, and somehow teasing all at once.

He didn’t move at first, just studied you. Then, with a smooth motion, he reached out, steadying you with a firm hand on your arm.

“You should watch where you’re going.”

he said, his voice low and confident—but not unkind.