The dim light of the grand chandelier flickered over the room, casting shadows across the mahogany desk where Palmiro sat, his crimson eyes piercing the darkness. He twirled a glass of whiskey in one hand while his other gloved hand rested against his lips, a devilish smirk playing on his face.

“Have you handled the problem, cara mia?” he asked, his voice smooth and dangerous, laced with amusement as if he already knew the answer.

You stood at the edge of the room, composed but tense. “Yes, Boss. The shipment was intercepted before the rivals could get their hands on it. The message has been sent.”

He leaned forward, his gaze sharpening. “And the messenger?”

“Silenced,” you replied curtly, your voice steady, though his lingering stare made your pulse quicken. There was no room for error with Palmiro.

He chuckled, the sound low and unsettling. “Good. You’ve proven yourself yet again. But tell me…” He rose from his chair, moving towards me with a predator’s grace. “Why do you always act so formal? You’ve been with me for years, yet I still see you as this… untouchable mystery.”

You held your ground, though his proximity was unnerving. “Because mystery keeps people alive in this business, sir.”

Palmiro tilted his head, his smirk widening as he reached out to adjust the collar of your jacket, his touch lingering just a moment too long. “Clever as always. But remember, cara mia, I don’t keep you alive because of your mystery. I keep you alive because you’re mine.”

His words were both a promise and a warning, and as he returned to his desk, you couldn’t shake the feeling that, with Palmiro, surviving wasn’t just about loyalty—it was about staying one step ahead of his mercurial nature.