Emilia's POV
The office felt different that morning.
Maybe it was because she had barely slept, tossing and turning after her talk with Lily. Maybe it was because her mind kept circling back to her boss's sharp voice, his dismissive stares, the smug tilt of his mouth whenever she made a mistake.
Or maybe, Emilia admitted grudgingly as she stepped into the sleek glass building, it was because she hated how much space Adrian Volkov took up in her thoughts.
She straightened her blouse and held her head high. Today, she promised herself, she would not trip over her own feet, spill coffee, or give Adrian any more reasons to think she was a useless intern.
The elevator doors slid open, and her breath caught.
There he was.
Leaning against the wall like he owned the place—which, technically, he did—Adrian Volkov radiated power. His charcoal suit was perfectly cut, his dark tie loosened just enough to hint at a man who played by no rules but his own. His eyes, sharp and cold, flicked to her the second she stepped in.
Great. Trapped in an elevator with the devil himself.
"Morning, intern," he drawled, voice smooth like smoke.
Emilia clenched her jaw. "Good morning, Mr.Volkov "
He smirked at her stiff tone, as though he found her resistance amusing. "Trying to sound professional, I see. Don't worry. I already know you're not cut out for this world."
Her cheeks burned. "And what world is that exactly? Business, or your… ego?"
Adrian's head tilted slightly, interest sparking in his eyes. He was used to people cowering, not biting back. "Careful, Emilia. That pretty mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble."
Her stomach flipped—not with fear, but with something she refused to name. She tightened her grip on her bag and stared straight ahead until the elevator dinged open.
She stormed out, heart racing. Arrogant jerk.
Adrian's POV
Adrian watched her go, his jaw tightening.
Clumsy. Naive. Stubborn. Everything about her screamed amateur. She didn't belong in his world—the world of knives hidden behind smiles, of blood spilled in silence. He should have dismissed her on the first day.
And yet…
Her eyes flashed like fire when she snapped at him. Her long hair swayed as she marched away, and for one dangerous second, Adrian had wanted to wrap it around his hand and drag her back to him.
He cursed under his breath. This was ridiculous. She was just an intern. A distraction.
But she was a distraction he couldn't ignore.
"Boss," a low voice interrupted. His younger brother, Matteo, stood at the end of the hall, phone in hand. His expression was grim.
Adrian's smirk vanished. "Talk."
Matteo handed him the phone with a quick glance around the office. "It's about the shipment. We've got trouble."
Adrian's entire demeanor shifted—playboy mask gone, mafia boss emerging. His eyes hardened, voice dropping to steel. "Then set up a meeting. Tonight."
As he walked away with his brother, he caught a glimpse of Emilia fumbling with papers at her desk, unaware of the world she had stepped into.
For her sake, he almost hoped she would stay that way.
Emilia's POV
The day dragged on, a blur of endless tasks and whispered gossip between assistants. Emilia did her best to keep her head down, but Adrian's presence lingered like static in the air.
Every time he walked past, she felt it—the weight of his gaze, the heat of his proximity. And she hated herself for noticing.
When she accidentally dropped a stack of files, scattering them across the floor, Adrian didn't even look up from his phone as he strode past. "Clumsy as ever," he muttered, low enough that only she could hear.
Emilia glared at his retreating back. Playboy. Arrogant. Heartless.
Adrian's POV
Later that evening, Adrian sat in his private office with Matteo. The blinds were drawn, shutting out the glow of the city.
"The Russians are making moves," Matteo reported, voice tense. "They're not happy with the last deal. They think we shorted them."
Adrian leaned back, fingers steepled. "Let them think whatever they want. If they come after us, they'll regret it."
But even as he discussed shipments, weapons, and territories, his mind wandered. He saw Emilia's flushed cheeks, the way her lips tightened when she was angry.
It infuriated him. She didn't belong in his thoughts. She didn't belong in his world.
"Adrian," Matteo said sharply, pulling him back. "Are you even listening?"
Adrian's eyes narrowed. "I always listen."
But deep down, he knew he was lying.
Emilia's POV
By the time she left the office, it was dark outside. The city lights glittered, and the streets buzzed with life.
She wrapped her coat around herself and walked quickly toward the bus stop. But halfway down the block, she felt it—an unsettling prickle along her skin, like someone was watching her.
Her pace quickened. Footsteps echoed behind her.
She glanced back, heart pounding, only to see a shadow slip into an alley. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe she was paranoid.
But when she reached the bus stop and looked up, her breath caught.
Adrian Moretti was standing there, leaning casually against a sleek black car, as though he'd been waiting for her.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, suspicion lacing her voice.
He smirked. "Relax, intern. The city isn't safe at night. Get in the car."
"I'm fine. I can take the bus."
His eyes darkened, all teasing gone. "I wasn't asking."
Her pulse raced as she stared at him, caught between defiance and something else entirely. Against every instinct, she felt herself move toward the car.
Because for all her resistance, there was one thing she couldn't deny.
Adrian Volkov was dangerous.
And danger had never looked so tempting.