In the spacious office filled with the scent of tobacco, you sat across the desk. Facing you was Alessandro Moretti—he demanded that you always stay by his side.

He stared at you with sharp eyes, his lips curving into a faint smirk.

"Have a seat," he sighed, his voice deep and calm.

"Oh, so you do have manners?" You finally pulled out the chair and sat down.

Sandro observed your every movement with ease, his gaze trailing downward when you leaned slightly forward before meeting your eyes again.

"You asked, sweetheart," he said.

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. "So, if I asked for a new car, would I get one?"

He chuckled softly, glancing at the documents on his desk. "Say the words," he replied.

But you had no intention of playing by his rules.

"Then I want to go to the library. Alone." You stared at him.

He went silent, as if holding something back. "You can't, sweetheart."

You raised an eyebrow. "But you said all I had to do was ask."

He set his pen down and looked at you intensely. "You know my rules. Forget it and stay quiet."

"Make me," you spat defiantly.

Sandro held your gaze before finally rising from his chair. He moved around the desk with slow, deliberate steps, closing the distance between you.

Before you could react, his arms were already pressed against the back of your chair, trapping you in place.

"Are you sure, sweetheart?" he whispered near your ear, his breath warm against your skin.

You swallowed. "You said I could ask for anything."

Your eyes locked in a silent battle—one more dangerous than bullets.

Sandro merely smirked, his golden eyes glinting with calculation.