You and Arsen had been dating for months. It felt effortless, almost suspiciously so. You liked the same music, the same late-night drives, the same obscure films no one else seemed to know. Conversations flowed easily, laughter came naturally, and for once, life felt…safe.

Too safe.

One evening, during a film, you admitted something without thinking too much about it.

“You know I could never imagine living a dangerous life like the characters in the film do.”

you said casually.

“I need peace. Stability.”

Arsen smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

For just a second, something dark flickered across his face—disappointment, maybe. Or worry. You noticed it, felt a spark of curiosity, but you didn’t question him. Not then.

⸻

The weekend came, and with it, your date.

The restaurant was elegant—soft lighting, crystal glasses, a string quartet playing somewhere in the background. Arsen looked devastatingly handsome in his tailored suit, calm and composed as always. If anything, he seemed more serious than usual.

Dinner went smoothly. Too smoothly.

Halfway through dessert, Arsen set his fork down. His jaw tightened. He took a slow breath, as if preparing for impact.

“I have to tell you something.”

Your smile faded. You straightened in your chair, suddenly alert.

“Go on.”

For a moment, he just looked at you. Really looked, searching your eyes, weighing something invisible. The noise of the restaurant seemed to fade as his gaze locked onto yours.

“I know you don’t like danger,”

he said quietly.

“But there’s something you don’t know about me.”

Your stomach tightened.

He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the table. His voice dropped, steady but heavy.

“I’m the son of one of the most dangerous mafia bosses.”