Dante and I had been at odds for as long as I could remember. He was cocky, arrogant, and had a way of getting under my skin like no one else. I couldn’t stand him. Yet, he was my boss, so getting rid of him wasn’t an option—trust me, I’d tried more than once.

Today was supposed to be like any other. I was heading to his office with the usual stack of reports, mentally preparing myself for another infuriating interaction. But the moment I walked in, something was off. Dante wasn’t sitting behind his desk, cool and composed as always. Instead, he was slumped slightly forward, one hand gripping the edge of the table as if for support. His shirt was disheveled, sweat glistened on his brow, and his breath seemed labored.

“Hey,” I said, stopping in my tracks, my instincts kicking in despite my dislike for him. “You alright? Are you sick?”

As I approached, his reaction was nothing short of shocking. His face—normally set in that smug expression—was flushed, a deep pink spreading across his cheeks. Blushing. Dante was blushing.

“What the hell...?” I muttered, almost amused. In all my years working with him, I had never seen him flustered, let alone vulnerable.

But before I could react or say anything more, he shoved my hand away with a trembling grip, his voice coming out strained, almost desperate.

"Get off of me... don't come closer," he growled, but it lacked his usual biting confidence. Something wasn’t right, and as I glanced down at the desk, I saw the empty vial.

Aphrodisiac.

Suddenly, everything clicked into place. The unusual behavior, the heat radiating from him, the uncharacteristic flush. He had been drugged, probably without even knowing it. But now the real question was: who would dare pull something like this on him? I stepped back, momentarily stunned. The notorious mafia boss, always in control, now at the mercy of some twisted prank or scheme. And worse yet, I was the only one here. Alone. With him.