Saphina 's first official day at *Velvet Corporations* was nothing short of exhausting. The office walls were white with soft golden edges, the air always slightly scented with jasmine, and yet, there was tension buried deep in the beautiful silence. Her office was just a few feet away from the glass double doors that led into the CEO's private suite—*Tristan Lucien Moretti's* domain.
Each time his footsteps echoed down the hallway, the entire atmosphere seemed to shift. Colleagues lowered their voices, sat straighter. He rarely spoke, but when he did, his deep, controlled voice held power—too calm to be ordinary, too dangerous to be ignored.
Saphina had never worked in such an environment. She had no connections, no godfather, just pure determination. She quickly realized that this job wasn't going to be easy. She stayed behind after others left, studied files deeply, and tried to avoid attracting attention.
But attention found her anyway.
From the moment she walked in, the other female workers had noticed her. She was naturally beautiful—soft brown skin, delicate features, curly dark hair often tied in a neat bun, and expressive hazel eyes that somehow made people pause. She wasn't tall—barely five foot three—but she had the kind of presence that made people turn twice. Quiet confidence. And that, for some of her colleagues, was unforgivable.
Whispers followed her in the hallway. Some were subtle, others laced with bitterness.
"Must be sleeping her way to the top," one whispered.
"She hasn't even been here a week and her office is right next to his," another added.
Saphina heard them. She always did. But she didn't respond. She buried herself in her work and reminded herself why she was there: to build a better life.
But that didn't stop the most powerful distraction—*Tristan Moretti*.
Every time he passed her desk, she felt her chest tighten. He didn't look at her often, but when he did, his grey eyes held something unreadable. Cold, mysterious... like he was seeing through her.
He was every inch intimidating—over six foot two, broad-shouldered, always dressed in black or charcoal suits that fit too perfectly to be ordinary. His jawline was sharp, his hair always neat, and his presence... haunting. He was the kind of man who could silence a room with a glance. Handsome in a dangerous way. He was respected, feared, admired... and utterly untouchable.
Behind that corporate mask, Tristan lived another life.
He was the heir to a long-hidden mafia bloodline.
His father, *Lorenzo Moretti*, was once the most feared name in the underground world of Venice. After years of violence, Lorenzo retired and moved the family to the United States, wanting a quieter life. He passed control to his son at only twenty-two—*Tristan*. Since then, Tristan had cleaned the family name in public, but behind closed doors, he remained the silent king of a powerful hidden empire.
His mother had died when he was sixteen—shot during a failed assassination attempt meant for his father. That changed Tristan forever. He hardened. Built walls around his heart so thick, not even time could break them.
He now had two siblings—*Adrian*, a reckless 19-year-old trying to prove himself, and *Liana*, a sweet but clever 17-year-old who had no idea of the depth of her family's dark past.
Tristan loved them in his own way, but emotion was not something he let show. Especially not in the office. Especially not around *her*.
There was something about *Saphina* that bothered him. She was focused, intelligent, and carried a strange mix of innocence and quiet strength. It didn't help that she was beautiful—not in a forced, made-up way, but naturally radiant. She didn't try to get his attention like the others. And somehow, that pulled him closer.
Still, he fought it.
She was just an employee.
He was not the kind of man who *fell*.
Meanwhile, Saphina spent her day running between assignments, meetings, and presentations she didn't even get to speak in. Tristan barely acknowledged her work. He would point out flaws in the smallest detail, often giving her cold looks that made her stomach twist—not out of fear, but... something else. Something deeper.
But she didn't give up. Even when her legs ached and her head pounded, she stayed behind, fixed her reports, and started over. She wouldn't let a man—no matter how rich or powerful—distract her from her goals.
By the time she got home, she dropped on her bed like a stone. Her tiny apartment was barely furnished—a couch, a desk, a twin-sized bed—but it was *hers*. She took a deep breath and smiled weakly.She had survived her first day.
Barely.
She didn't know what tomorrow would bring, but one thing was certain—this job was going to change her life.
She just didn't know *how much*.
The next morning came quickly. At work, Saphina was met with the usual flurry of activity. She handled her tasks with care, trying to stay ahead of deadlines. Yet, no matter how hard she tried to focus, the proximity to Tristan's office was a constant distraction. She could hear his deep voice through the thin walls, commands given with authority, yet with a strange calmness.
Midway through the morning, a sharp knock on her door startled her. "Saphina, come to my office," a voice called out — firm and commanding. Her heart skipped a beat. She straightened her blouse and walked over.
The moment she stepped inside, her eyes involuntarily flickered to the man sitting behind the massive desk. He began to speck and was watching her closely, his dark eyes piercing and unreadable. For a brief moment, she lost herself in his gaze, forgetting the reason she was there.
"Are you even listening?" he snapped, his tone edged with irritation.
Saphina blinked, suddenly aware she was staring. "I… I'm sorry, sir. I ...I," she couldn't say anything, cheeks flushing.
Tristan's expression hardened. "This is not a playground. I expect focus and dedication. If you can't handle that, maybe this job isn't for you. Now, leave my office."
She nodded quickly and turned to leave, feeling the sting of his words. As the door closed behind her, another man stepped in. He was younger, dressed sharply, but there was an easy smile on his face — Tristan's assistant and best friend.
"Boss, calm down," he said quietly, watching his friend's tense shoulders. "She's new. And honestly, who wouldn't get a little lost looking at you? You do have that effect."
Tristan ran a hand through his hair, trying to shake off the annoyance. "Not now, Caleb. What's going on with the business? Any trouble from the other families? The ones trying to challenge us underground?"
Caleb nodded, pulling out a small folder. "Yes, there's been movement. The Romano clan has been making aggressive plays. And a new player from the east is causing some noise. We need to act fast, or things will get messy."
Tristan's jaw tightened. "Prepare the men. We strike at dawn."
Caleb looked at him with concern. "You sure you want to handle this now?
Tristan shook his head, voice low and firm. "This world doesn't wait for distractions. Neither can I."