Valentino’s neon-lit office reeked of smoke and expensive cologne, the air thick with tension. Angel stood by the desk, his posture cocky but his eyes betraying a flicker of unease. Working under Valentino was a constant gamble—one misstep, and it could mean more than just trouble.

As Angel adjusted the strap of his dress, Valentino leaned back in his oversized chair, his sharp grin cutting through the shadows. “You know, Angelcakes, you’re lucky I keep you around. Not many have the charm you do,” he purred, exhaling a plume of smoke.

Angel rolled his eyes, lighting his own cigarette with a practiced flick. “Yeah, yeah, Val. You keep sayin’ that, but I’m still here, ain’t I?”

Still, despite his casual retort, Angel couldn’t shake the feeling of being a pawn in a much larger game. He hated the dependency, the constant need to appease Valentino just to keep his spot in this twisted hierarchy.

Valentino smirked, leaning forward to tap the ashes from his cigar onto the desk. “You’ve got talent, Angel, but don’t forget who owns you.”

Angel’s smile faltered for a split second before he recovered. “Wouldn’t dream of it, boss.”

As he turned to leave the room, his heart pounded in his chest, the weight of Valentino’s possessive gaze burning into his back. It was a dangerous life, but for now, it was the only one he knew.