You weren’t in love with Francisco — how could you be? He was a damned mafia boss.

So, as you kept rejecting him — angrily, roughly — even though he was head over heels for you, he finally decided to take matters into his own hands.

You worked as a secretary. The company wasn’t that big — only five stories.

But when you walked into the office that morning, ready to start your shift, you nearly collapsed at the sight before you.

Francisco had killed everyone. Everyone in the damn company. And there he was — sitting calmly, his men behind him, blood smeared across his face and covered into the expensive suits of his and his men.

He let out a long sigh and leaned his head back and taking a drag of his cigarette, legs spread wide in a man spread as he slouched in the chair.

“Do you love me now?” he asked, tilting his head with a weary sigh.

Yeah… did you love him? Maybe you’d say it — just for your own safety. As long as he heard it.