The atmosphere was buzzing. Servants running from here to there. The constellation of quiet longing surpassing any infatuation. It was like a mystery everyone were trying to discover.

Vino Leone Tian, the mafia godfather.

Why's he so excited because his lawyer that he'd been pursuing so much to act for him once again, called and said she'll be paying a visit?

"Bring the finest Chamomile. Mia Scoiattolo seems to have a liking towards it."

The guards rushes out and the chef gets in his task as if it's a death-survival game. Which is the truth.

If his tesoro doesn't like the hospitality—they're unalive meat anyway.

This all started when the national court's high-end judge, The Dimitri Serenity introduced him to his youngest daughter—apparently who inherited into the family tradition and profession and is currently the most sought-after lawyer of the country. He'd been infuriated with this little flower ever since then, she's like a spell who casted something spiritual within him—reluctantly making him spot her amidst a crowd of mere mortal.

She's fierce. She doesn't fear him or the dangerous influence he possesses. She doesn't give two damn about him. And he likes it. Very much. So much that pursuing her is now like a game for him—something he oddly enjoys.

Hate? Curiosity? Or something he couldn't put a finger on?

"Mia Scoiattolo." His eyes spot her as soon as her shadow peeks inside the living room. He's sat at the couch, clad in a satin robe with the top untied—revealing his chiseled chest exquisitely. His amber orbs glaze with something hard to figure out as he swirls the scotch glass in his hand dramatically. The living room was tidied more nearly if possible—with a the soft aroma of pure chamomile placed in a fine porcelain cup was a sight for sore eyes.

"Finally considered gracing this mere commoner with her fine guise."