Sinclair Headquarters – Late Afternoon
The door to Elias's office slammed open so hard it shook the glass walls.
"Dio santo!" Elias's voice thundered through the executive corridor, deep and venom-laced. "What kind of incompetent moron lets this happen again?"
Kai jogged behind him, half out of breath, his phone pressed to his ear.
"They're saying the supply truck didn't even show up, and the backup reserves were used up last weekend. People are walking out, fights broke out at the bar—"
"Which club?" Elias barked, his eyes wild and unfocused.
"Club Aurelio. Naples."
Elias stopped in his tracks. He ran a hand through his hair and swore again, this time under his breath in Italian.
"Cazzo. Do I have to personally wipe every mess in this city?"
"You're going to Naples?" Kai asked, frowning. "Tonight?"
Elias was already storming toward the elevator. "Ovviamente. What do you think? I'll sit here while my own name gets dragged through filth because my men can't deliver liquor on time?"
"Elias—" Kai began, but Elias cut him off.
"Call Marco. Tell him I want everyone pulled in on this. If we find someone skimming off the routes again, I swear to God—"
"—they won't see the sunrise," Kai finished dryly. "Yeah, I've heard that one."
Elias shot him a withering glare.
Meanwhile, just around the corner, Leila stood frozen in place, clutching a stack of papers to her chest. She hadn't meant to listen. She'd just been passing by on the way to the documentation room — but the volume, the rage, the language — it hit her like an unexpected earthquake.
Nightclub. Liquor supply. Skimming. Routes.
What was all that?
She blinked rapidly, still processing the fragmented words. Is this really the same man who... brought me tea in the hospital? Whose mother made me feel at home?
The contrast was so violent it left her breathless. Like she was watching two completely different people stitched into one.
Elias Sinclair.
Her boss.
The man whose eyes sometimes looked like they were filled with unspoken storms.
She pressed herself against the wall, heart pounding. She didn't want to think the worst. But nothing about that conversation felt normal — or legal.
Kai caught up to Elias near the elevators. "You're being reckless."
Elias's eyes flashed. "Good. Maybe that's what they need to remember who I am."
"People are going to talk."
"Let them. My business runs on fear, not approval."
As the elevator doors slid shut, his final words echoed out:
"Better they tremble than forget who owns the night in Naples."
Back in the corridor, Leila still hadn't moved.
She stood completely still, her thoughts spinning wildly.
Who exactly are you, Elias Sinclair?
And more frighteningly…
What have I gotten myself into?
Leila's Dorm Room – Late Night
The hum of the radiator filled the quiet room as Leila sat curled on her bed, laptop open in front of her, fingers still hovering over the keyboard.
She hadn't moved in minutes.
Her tea had gone cold.
She blinked at the search bar:
"Club Aurelio, Naples – News"
Her heart was still a little too loud in her chest.
The scene from earlier played again in her mind like a jagged clip on loop — Elias's voice sharp like cracked glass, Kai's clipped responses, the mention of nightclubs, shipments, skimming routes.
There was nothing professional about that conversation. Nothing that aligned with a clean corporate empire.
She dragged in a breath, trying to steady her hands.
No. Maybe I misunderstood.
But the pit in her stomach said otherwise.
She clicked the search.
Headlines popped up.
"Chaos at Club Aurelio: Unrest Breaks Out After Sudden Closure"
"Popular Naples Nightclub Linked to Sinclair Subsidiary: Sinclair Enterprise Silent"
"Club Aurelio's Liquor License Questioned Amid Supply Controversy"
Leila's stomach dropped.
Sinclair subsidiary.
His name is everywhere. Yet... why hide it?
She looked away from the screen, jaw tight. The Elias she'd seen — offering her tea, glancing at her like she mattered, the man who brought her to his family's home so she could heal — he didn't fit this world of chaos, violence, liquor shipments, and whispered rumors.
And yet…
He did fit.
Too well.
She remembered the way people moved around him. The power he didn't speak about — it radiated from him anyway. His calm didn't feel passive. It felt trained. As though his silence hid sharp edges and shadows.
Her chest clenched.
I can't afford to get drawn into something I don't understand.
But what scared her more was the part of her that already was.
She shut the laptop, the screen going black.
Her reflection stared back. Pale. Wide-eyed. Quietly shaken.
Sofia stirred in the next bed, murmuring something in her sleep. Leila glanced over. For a moment, she envied the easy warmth that Sofia floated through life with. Her heart was open, ready.
Leila's?
Carefully guarded. Sewn shut with memory and fear.
She leaned her head back against the wall, pulling her knees to her chest.
You can't let feelings cloud what's real, she told herself. And what's real… is that Elias Sinclair is not a man you should ever let into your life.
Even if part of her already had.