It was late.

9:52 PM, to be precise.

The office was dead silent. Most employees had left long ago. Only a few night owls like me and-of course-Mr. Romano remained.

He had asked for a contract file around 9:30, so I'd been rushing to reprint and staple it, triple-checking every word.

He hated sloppy work. And I hated giving him a reason to look at me with those disappointed grey eyes.

When I approached his cabin, the door was slightly ajar. Light from the crystal lamp spilled into the hallway.

I stepped forward quietly.

"Sir? I have the file-"

Then I froze.

He was on the phone.

His voice-usually calm and measured-was low. Guttural. Sharp. The kind of voice that could cut glass.

I couldn't understand the words, but the tone? It wasn't business. It was danger.

I shouldn't have stayed.

I should have walked away.

But I didn't.

"Ha fatto tutto come ho detto? (Did you do everything I said?)" he asked, pacing behind his desk.

A long silence.

Then a response, muffled through the speaker.

"Nessuno lo troverà. Brucia tutto. (No one will find him. Burn everything.)"

He snapped something in sharp Italian. I caught nothing

Still... the way he said them...

Like he wanted to hurt someone. Or already had.

Then, clear as a bell, in English:

"He thought he could touch her and live."

I gasped - softly, but not softly enough.

Touch her.

Live.

I gasped.

Soft.

Barely audible.

But not soft enough.

He stopped pacing.

"Chi c'è lì? (Who's there?)"

I panicked. Stepped back. Clutched the file tighter.

The edge cut into my palm.

But I didn't move.

His shadow grew closer.

I turned and walked away fast-back to my desk, heartbeat thundering.

I pretended to be arranging papers.

Footsteps behind me.

"Miss Kapoor?"

I turned, slowly. Prayed my face didn't betray me.

"Y-yes, sir? I... I was just coming to give you the contract."

He looked at me carefully.

Too carefully.

Then nodded. Took the file from my hands. His fingers brushed mine.

They were warm.

Too warm.

"You look pale. Everything alright?"

I nodded.

Too fast.

"Just tired, sir. Long day."

He looked like he didn't believe me. But he didn't say anything else.

Just turned away and walked back into his office.

I sat down, but my knees were trembling.

My hands were ice.

My mind was spinning.

What did I just hear?

Was that...

Was he talking about... Arjun?

He thought he could touch her and live.

No.

No. No no no.

That's insane.

Alessandro Romano is cold. Rude. Obsessive with work.

But he can't be... a killer.

He's my boss.

Not some mafia villain from my books.

Right?

But what if he is?

What if all this time I thought I was reading fiction... and instead, I was living it?

I stared at the contract I'd just handed him.

My fingers were still shaking.

And for the first time since I joined Romano Luxury...

I didn't know if I was safe.

Or owned.

०००

I lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, the hum of the fan above doing nothing to quiet the storm in my head.

My room was dark, save for the faint glow of my phone screen.

I had come home as usual. Ate dinner like everything was normal. Laughed when Maa asked if my boss had yelled at me again. I'd said, "No, today he was almost... human."

But now, alone in the quiet of my room, that sentence rang hollow.

Because I couldn't forget the sound of his voice. That call.

He thought he could touch her and live.

No. No, no, Ruhi. You're imagining things. You're dramatic. Maybe he was talking about a business deal or some I don't know.

Right?

I turned to my side and grabbed my pillow.

"Stop it," I whispered to myself. "You're not in one of your mafia books. This isn't chapter ten of Tempted by the Mafia Boss. This is real life."

But the words he said. The Italian.

It wasn't just anger. It was... venom.

I remembered one word clearly - "bruciare." He'd said it with that clipped, final tone.

I opened Google Translate.

Bruciare.

I typed.

Burn.

I sat up.

I tried another - one I'd heard him say before that soft gasp left my lips and his tone turned sharp:

Toccato.

Touched.

Vivere.

Live.

My stomach twisted.

I tried one more:

Ucciderlo.

Kill him.

I dropped my phone.

"No," I whispered, voice shaking.

My hand flew to my mouth.

"No, Ruhi. It could mean anything. Context, right? Business. Code. A joke."

But it didn't feel like a joke. It didn't sound like business.

It sounded like a sentence. A threat. A promise.

Could he...?

No.

He couldn't.

He's my boss. Ruthless, yes. Cold, obviously. Slightly unhinged? Definitely.

But not a murderer.

Not... that.

I curled up under my blanket, heart racing, brain spinning.

What if he did it?

What if Arjun isn't just fired?

What if Alessandro Romano doesn't fire people... he ends them?

And what if he did it for me?

That thought felt like acid and honey all at once.

I didn't know whether to scream...

...or feel safe.

And that terrified me more than anything.

----

Next day , I woke up deciding I will ignore him aa much as possible. I need to clear my thoughts first.

I brushed and took a bath and wore simple tshiry and jeans.

When j reached office I smile, it was fake but I tried to keep my composure.

I avoided him as much as I can.

---

He was already in his cabin when I walked in.

I didn’t look at him.

Didn’t greet him.

Didn’t even peek through the glass walls the way I always used to, trying to guess if he’d had his coffee yet.

He noticed. Of course he did.

By mid-morning, I could feel his gaze. Like static electricity buzzing at the edge of my awareness. Every time I looked down, I knew he was watching. Silent. Calculating.

But I didn’t meet his eyes.

Didn’t smile.

Didn’t say a word.

---

There was a meeting at 11.

All the department heads. Marketing. Strategy. Expansion.

He walked in, suit crisp, expression unreadable. His voice was calm. Cold. Efficient.

I sat in my usual spot at the side table, taking notes like a machine.

He spoke. I wrote. He made a comment. I didn’t react. I just nodded, eyes on my notepad.

And then, halfway through a presentation from the head of logistics, his voice cut through the room:

“Stop. We’ll continue in ten minutes.”

Everyone froze.

Then scrambled. Nodding, pretending they weren’t confused. Gathering their laptops and phones.

I stood up too, hoping to make a clean exit.

“Not you, Miss Kapoor,” he said.

His voice was quiet. But absolute.

I froze.

Turned.

He looked at me with a calm expression that made my stomach twist.

I nodded. “Of course, sir.”

The others left. The door shut behind them.

Click.

He locked it.

And turned toward me.