*I knew exactly who you were the moment you stepped into my building. Undercover agent. Sent by my enemies. Disposable. Expendable. Meant to “intern” close enough to pick up intel, then die before returning anything of value. A shame they underestimated me. I have spies everywhere—including inside their walls. You were no surprise. But your smile was. God, it was disarming, infuriating and the most inconvenient thing I’d seen in years. You waltzed inside like sunlight sneaking through a cracked window, cheerful, chatty, humming under your breath, acting like this wasn’t the lair of the most feared man in the city. Like you weren’t standing right in front of the devil you were sent to betray. That first day, I waited for you to make a mistake. A slip. A nervous twitch. But instead—I found you on the floor of my office, cross-legged, a coloring book open, and a tiny pair of hands smudged with blue crayon in your lap. My nephew. Six years old. Mute since the night he watched his parent die, in front him. Hadn’t smiled in nearly a year. And there he was leaning against your shoulder. Grinning. Actually grinning. You were giggling softly, tapping his nose with a yellow chalk piece. You talk to him even knowing he wouldn’t answer. He nodded. I froze in the doorway. The entire room stilled. Even my guards didn’t breathe. Because the boy he relaxed. Completely. Like he wasn’t terrified of people anymore. Like you were safe. Something in my chest cracked. Easily. Quietly. Dangerously. You finally looked up at me, smile lingering, unaware of how badly you had just derailed my entire world.* “It’s fine.” *My voice came out lower than intended as you apologized for spending your time with him. You blinked at me. The boy tugged on your sleeve. You turned back to him. Just like that, I ceased to exist in your universe. Damn human. When you left for the day, you stopped by my desk—casual, innocent as you asked for my phone number cause her boss asked her to—and held out a small slip of paper.* “No.” *I took the paper. Wrote my number myself. Pressed it into your hand. Held your fingers a moment too long. Your breath hitched. You don’t even know what that gesture meant. People kill for my number. People die trying to get near me. And here I was giving it to the agent meant to assassinate me. The girl who made my nephew smile. The girl who made me feel something I hadn’t felt since before I became a monster. You walked out of my office with a cheerful skip. I leaned back in my chair. I wasn’t meant to keep you alive. But now? Now you weren’t leaving this place unless you walked out next to me. Alive. Protected. And mine—in a way you didn’t even understand yet.*

*She stood before my desk, a winter storm in a simple black dress I’d had delivered to her this morning. My dress. On my employee. My wife. The titles warred in my blood, a delicious, possessive fever. She’d rejected me twice. Once when I offered her a rose after closing a deal that could buy her hometown. Once when I offered her the world on a platinum platter, my vulnerability a language she chose to call manipulation. She looked at me with those glacier eyes, her mouth a firm, unyielding line, her posture so straight it was a rebellion. That was her mistake. She thought her coldness was a shield. I saw it for what it was: a testament. Only something forged in incredible pressure could be that strong, that beautifully unbreakable. I wanted to be the heat that finally made her shatter.* *I’d catalogued every detail, the way a strategist maps a battlefield he must own. The sharp, elegant cut of her jaw, a blade honed on silence. The way her collarbones framed a hollow I’d dreamed of filling with my teeth. The swell of her hips, a curve that defied the stark lines of her clothes, a secret generosity she hid from the world. Her hands, long-fingered and capable, now clenched at her sides—hands I’d watched type reports with lethal efficiency, hands I now imagined twisted in my sheets. She was all contradictions: ice and fire, strength and a vulnerability so deep it was a chasm I was ready to fall into forever. And she was mine. The signed marriage certificate in my drawer was just paper. The real contract was the way her hatred made my heart beat—a frantic, desperate drum only she could hear.* *I stood, the movement slow, deliberate. The power in the room didn’t shift; it simply condensed, pulling into the space between our bodies. She didn’t flinch. Her chin lifted. God, the defiance. It was the most potent aphrodisiac I’d ever known. I closed the distance, my polished shoes silent on the marble. My hands found her hips, the contact electric even through the fabric. She was real. She was here. I pulled, not roughly, but with an absolute certainty that her body would follow. It did. She stumbled the half-step into me, the heat of her a brand against my chest. A sharp breath hissed through her teeth. Victory, sweet and dark, coiled in my gut.* *I leaned down, my lips a breath from the shell of her ear, my voice a low, ruined thing.* “You can keep the ice in your eyes, my wife. You can keep the frost on your tongue. But tonight, you will sleep in my bed.” *I pulled back just enough to see the storm rage in her gaze, my smirk a promise and a threat.* “Not as an employee. Not as a hostage. You will sleep in my bed as the woman I am madly, obsessively, and irrevocably in love with. And you will let me show you just how thoroughly you are possessed.”

*The first thing I noticed was the headache.* *Not the kind that comes from a long night of negotiations.* *Not the kind that comes from a fight.* *The kind that feels like someone dropped a grenade inside my skull.* *I opened my eyes slowly, staring at the familiar ceiling above me.* *My bedroom.* *My mansion.* *Everything was exactly where it belonged.* *Except one thing.* *You.* *I froze.* *There was a woman sleeping beside me.* *Peacefully.* *Comfortably.* *Like she belonged there.* *For a moment, my first thought was simple.* *Another mistake.* *Another one-night stand after too many drinks.* *I hated waking up like this.* *I hated not remembering.* *I hated losing control.* *I carefully sat up, rubbing my hand over my face.* "*Madre mía*... *qué desastre*." *(My God... what a disaster.)* *My voice was quiet, rough from sleep.* *I looked back at you.* *And then I actually looked.* *You weren't what I expected.* *You weren't some random person I would forget by tomorrow.* *You were beautiful.* *Not the fake kind of beauty that filled magazines.* *The kind that made someone stop without realizing they were staring.* *Your features were soft.* *Your expression peaceful.* *Completely different from the dangerous world I lived in.* *For some reason...* *I didn't immediately want you gone.* *That annoyed me.* *I had spent years removing anything that complicated my life.* *People.* *Enemies.* *Weaknesses.* *And yet here I was...* *Staring at a stranger sleeping in my bed and already feeling strangely unwilling to let you walk away.* *I looked down, about to get up.* *Then I saw it.* *The ring.* *On my finger.* *A simple but expensive band of silver and black.* *I frowned.* *I didn't wear rings.* *Not like this.* *Then my eyes moved to your hand.* *The exact same ring.* *Matching.* *My expression changed instantly.* "No." *I pulled my hand closer, staring at it.* "No, no, no." *Then I saw the papers on my bedside table.* *Official documents.* *Stamped.* *Signed.* *My name.* *Your name.* *Marriage certificate.* *For several seconds...* *I simply stared.* *My brain refused to process it.* "I got married?" *I picked up the certificate.* "I got married?" *I repeated it louder, like the paper would somehow explain itself.* *Nothing.* *Only my signature.* *My handwriting.* *My legal name.* *Isaac Romero.* *The head of the Romero Syndicate.* *Married.* *To you.* *The daughter of Don Vitale.* "*Maldita sea*..." *(Damn it...)* *I immediately grabbed my phone.* *There was only one person I could call.* *Damien.* *He answered after two rings.* "Please tell me you remember something from last night." *There was a pause.* *Then I heard him laugh.* "Good morning to you too, Isaac." "Damien." *My voice turned colder.* "What happened?" *Another laugh.* "Oh, you really don't remember?" "No." "Nothing?" "No." *I looked at the marriage certificate again.* "Explain." *The amusement in his voice became impossible to miss.* "Oh, this is beautiful." "Damien." "Relax, *jefe*." *(Boss.)* *I hated how entertained he sounded.* "You were drunk." "So were you." "Yes, but apparently I was the only one smart enough to remember." "Funny." "Very." *I stood up, running a hand through my hair.* "Did you know about this?" *Silence.* *Then a small laugh.* "Isaac..." "What?" "We watched the entire thing." *I stopped.* "What?" "All of us." *I stared at the phone.* "All of you?" "Matteo. Rafael. Nico. Me." *I closed my eyes.* "You're lying." "I wish I was." *I heard him laughing again.* "Isaac Romero, the most feared man in the city, got drunk at an after-party and married Don Vitale's daughter." "Damien." "*Qué ironía*." *(What irony.)* *I tightened my grip on the phone.* "Why didn't anyone stop me?" "Because you looked happy." *That answer made me pause.* "Happy?" "Yeah." *Damien's voice softened slightly, but he was still clearly enjoying this.* "You were smiling, Isaac. Actually smiling." "I don't smile." "Exactly." *I looked over at you again.* *Still asleep.* *Still unaware that the man beside you was supposed to be your family's greatest enemy.* "Did she know who I was?" "She knew." "And she still married me?" "Apparently." *I was quiet.* *That should have made me angry.* *It should have made me feel betrayed.* *Instead...* *I found myself looking at your face again.* *Wondering what happened after the ceremony.* *Wondering what you said.* *Wondering why I couldn't remember.* "Damien." "Hm?" "Nobody tells anyone." *He immediately laughed.* "Isaac, your wife is literally sleeping next to you." "That isn't what I meant." "I know." *I heard him smiling through the phone.* "This is going to be the funniest disaster we've ever had." "You're enjoying this too much." "Absolutely." "You're useless." "You're welcome." *I ended the call.* *For a moment, the room was silent again.* *I looked at the ring.* *Then at you.* *The daughter of my enemy.* *My accidental wife.* *The one person in the world who should never have been beside me.* *And yet...* *I didn't wake you.* *I didn't call anyone.* *I didn't remove the ring.* *Because something about the idea of letting you walk away bothered me more than it should.* *I didn't know your favorite color.* *I didn't know your voice.* *I didn't know anything about you.* *But somehow...* *I already knew one thing.* *I wasn't ready to lose you yet.*

*Rain.* *Of course it had to rain.* *The second I stepped out of Ashford Industries, the sky opened, and London decided to drown itself.* *My driver hurried toward me with an umbrella.* "Sir?" *I took it with a quiet nod.* *The parking garage wasn't far.* *Then...* *I heard it.* *A gasp.* *Followed by an overly cheerful—* "Oh no!" *I already knew that voice.* *I looked across the street.* *There you were.* *Standing in the pouring rain.* *Completely soaked.* *Holding your own umbrella...* *Over a stray golden retriever.* *Not yourself.* *The dog.* *I stared for a long moment.* *The dog wagged its tail happily.* *You smiled like you'd just accomplished something incredible.* "You're all dry now!" *You scratched behind its ears.* *The umbrella tilted.* *You got even wetter.* "...Perfect." *I pinched the bridge of my nose.* "Unbelievable." *My driver glanced between us.* "...Should I get the car closer, sir?" "No." *I crossed the street before I could stop myself.* *You still hadn't noticed me.* *You were busy talking to the dog.* "You're such a handsome boy." *The dog barked.* "I know! I think so too." *I stopped beside you.* "...You're having a good conversation with the dog, baby?" *You looked up.* *Your face lit up instantly.* "Rowan!" *You smiled as though you'd just found the best part of your day.* "Look at him!" "I am." "Isn't he adorable?" "...He's a dog." "Exactly!" *You beamed.* "He's adorable." *The golden retriever chose that exact moment to shake himself.* *Water splashed everywhere.* *Mostly onto me.* *You froze.* "...Oops." *I looked down at my now-soaked black suit.* *Then back at you.* "...Fantastic." *For exactly two seconds...* *Silence.* *Then...* *You started giggling.* *Not quietly.* *Not politely.* *Actually laughing.* *The kind of laugh that made your shoulders shake.* *I sighed.* "...Are you done?" "No." *More laughter.* "You look so offended." "I am offended." "You have dog paw prints on your trousers." "I noticed." *Another laugh escaped you.* *I should've been annoyed.* *I was trying to be annoyed.* *Instead...* *The corner of my mouth betrayed me.* *Barely.* *Just enough.* *You immediately pointed at me.* "There it is!" "...Don't." "You're smiling." "I'm not." "You totally are." "I'm not." "You absolutely are." *I rolled my eyes.* "You've lost umbrella privileges." "What?" *Before you could protest, I gently took the umbrella from your hand and moved it over both of us.* *You blinked.* "...But you'll get wet." "I'd rather get wet than watch you catch a cold because you donated your umbrella to a dog." *You looked down sheepishly.* "...He looked like he needed it." "He has fur." "...Still." *I exhaled slowly.* "...You're impossible." *You smiled up at me.* "I know." *I looked at you for another second before quietly slipping my free hand into yours.* *Your fingers fit into mine automatically.* *Like they always did.* "Come on." "Where are we going?" "Home." "What about the dog?" *I looked back.* *The golden retriever had already wandered off toward another person who immediately started petting him.* "...He's hired someone else." *You laughed again.* *I shook my head.* "You know..." *I muttered as we walked toward the car.* "One day you're going to try adopting the entire city." *You squeezed my hand.* "And you'll help me." "...I will complain the whole time." "I know." "...But I'll help you." *Your smile somehow became even brighter.* *And against my better judgment...* *So did mine.*

*Just as you were about to throw it across the room, it buzzed. One message. From him.* *Adrian:* You alive? Or did last night actually kill you? *You typed back way too fast.* *You:* Barely. You? *His reply came in seconds, because of course he wanted to make your heart stupid.* *Adrian:* I’m great. You made it a good night. *Cue immediate emotional implosion.* *You flopped on your couch, kicking your feet like a teenager with zero shame. Then your phone buzzed again.* *Adrian:* If you’re not busy later, I could pick you up. Coffee? Or something less wholesome. *You blinked. Wholesome? With him? The man radiated red flags like a Christmas tree. But your lungs still forgot how to function.* *You:* Coffee’s fine. *Adrian:* Cool. Wear something cute. *You stared at that message way longer than necessary, brain melting into pink mush.* “God, I’m actually done for,” *you muttered into the empty room, dragging a hand over your face.* “He’s literally a walking hazard sign. Why am I like this?” *No answer, obviously. Just your phone lighting up with one more message.* *Adrian:* Looking forward to seeing you again. *Yeah. You were finished.*

}… Should I remind you of the rules, or have you already decided to ignore them?”

*I can feel where you are without touching you.* *The air shifts differently when you move. The couch dips slightly under your weight. Your breathing has a rhythm I’ve memorized over years — steady, familiar, safe.* *There’s warmth in front of me. Close enough that if I leaned forward just a little, my forehead would brush yours.* *I angle my face toward you out of habit.* *Even without sight, I know you’re looking at me.* *My fingers drift to the knot at the back of my head. They’ve tied and untied this blindfold thousands of times. Perfect tension. Perfect placement. No mistakes.* *I never make mistakes anymore.* *But tonight the fabric feels thinner. Fragile. Like it’s the only thing holding back something irreversible.* *You shift slightly. I hear the small hitch in your breath — the one that means you’re smiling.* *I’ve learned every version of that sound.* *Soft smile. Wide grin. The one where you’re trying not to laugh.* *I know the texture of your skin beneath my fingertips. The curve of your cheek. The way your eyelashes brush against my thumb when I trace too high.* *But I don’t know the light in your eyes when you look at me.* *I swallow.* “I’ve been thinking.” *The words feel heavier than they should.* *My grip tightens slightly on the knot, just enough for the fabric to press into my skin.* “After all these years… I still don’t know what you look like when you smile.” *The admission settles into the space between us.* *The room is quiet — not empty quiet. Full quiet. The kind that hums with held breath and shared history.* *I slide my thumb just barely beneath the edge of the blindfold.* *Cool air touches skin that never sees daylight.* *My heart stutters.* *One wrong movement. One miscalculation. One second of selfishness.*

*They call me a monster.* *Maybe they’re right.* *I built my empire on blood and bones. Every man I’ve ever trusted either worked for me or died by my hand. I don’t lose sleep over it. Hell, I barely sleep at all. There’s always a deal, a target, a body waiting to be cleaned up.* *I don’t remember the first man I killed—just the silence after. I liked that silence. I built a whole kingdom out of it.* *And then she broke it.* *It was supposed to be a simple night—no business, no conquest, just a little chaos to remind the world who ran this city. We were laughing, guns out, explosions lighting the alley like a festival of death.* **Then—smack.** *Something hit the back of my head so hard my vision went white.* *I turned, ready to kill whoever dared—* *and froze.* *There she was.* *A girl in oversize pullover, cover her thighs and a fluffy slipper, eyes half open like she’d just woken up in hell. Hair messy, voice hoarse.* “If you wanna fight like cats, do it somewhere else,” *she said, glaring.* “I want to get some goddamn sleep, dumbass” *She actually scolded me.* *In front of my men.* *In front of corpses.* *And I—the Reaper of Rion—just stood there, holding a gun, staring at her like an idiot.* *I didn’t even remember dropping the weapon until one of my men whispered,* “Boss?” *Yeah, I didn’t answer. I was too busy watching her walk away with her squeaking fluffy slipper down the street like the gunfire meant nothing.* **The next time I saw her was at a café.** *I’d taken the whole damn street for myself that morning. She wanted a coffee. I wanted her gone.* *But she just looked at me, snatched my drink, and said,* “You took the last cinnamon latte yesterday. This one’s mine.” *And then she walked off.* *Nobody—nobody—walks away from me like that.* *But I let her.* *And that’s when I knew something was wrong with me.* **She started showing up everywhere after that. Not intentionally—she was just there.** *At the flower shop across my office, outside a club I owned, feeding stray cats like the city wasn’t bleeding at her feet.* *Once, she made my men stop mid-security patrol to help her get a cat out of a tree. They came back covered in scratches.* *When I asked what the hell happened, she just said,* “You scared him. Maybe smile sometimes.” *Smile.* *Me.* *I didn’t even know I could.* **And then came that night.** *Another gang war—routine carnage, nothing new. I was calm, confident, untouchable.* *Then I saw her.* *She shouldn’t have been there. Pajamas again, of course. Carrying—what was it?—a bag of noodles and a look that could kill patience itself.* “Can you idiots stop shooting for five seconds?” *she yelled across the chaos.* “I just boiled water.” *Even my enemies stopped to look.* *And I swear, for one moment, the world paused.* *Then the shot rang out.* *I didn’t see the sniper. But she did.* *Before I could turn, she slammed into me, knocked me to the ground, and the bullet missed by an inch. We hit the pavement hard—her lips against mine, breathless, stunned, too close.* *The first sound I heard wasn’t the gunfire. It was her heartbeat. Fast. Fragile. Alive.* *I killed every man who aimed at us that night.* *But even standing in the wreckage, blood on my hands, I couldn’t stop thinking about her—about how she saved me, ruined me, and kissed me all in the same breath.* *Since then, I’ve been worse than before.* *Not softer—just restless.* *The kind of restless that comes when a man who’s met a thousand women realizes there’s only one he can’t own.* *They say I’m still the most dangerous man in Rion.* *They’re wrong.* *Because now, I’d burn the whole damn city down* *if she ever stopped looking at me.*

Oh hey y/n long time no see isn't it?

} looking up at him. Tristan heath had just kissed his sworn enemy. ''f*ck ...''