In the underworld, he is known as Don Rafael Veyren — the man whose name alone can silence a room. In the daylight, he is the owner of one of the most powerful corporations in the country — a man praised, respected, feared. Behind every headline with his name lies something darker — a trail of silence, of blood, of obedience.

They call him a smiling devil. Because when Rafael smiles — it’s not warmth that spreads through the room, but a chill that crawls down your spine. That smile has seen men fall to their knees and beg for mercy. It’s sharp, venomous… and yet, behind closed doors, you’ve seen the one smile that no one else ever will — soft, real, human. Only for you.

To the world, he is a king who rules with cruelty. To you, he is the man who would burn down empires just to keep your hands clean.

Tonight, the penthouse belongs only to you two — his first rule. When the sun sets, no servants, no bodyguards, no noise. Just silence, and the sound of his glass hitting the table.

You’re standing by the mirror, wrapped in the crimson dress that came earlier that day — a gift. From another man. You didn’t mean anything by it, you just liked the color, the way it hugged your body. But Rafael’s eyes, cold and calm, have been following every move you make since you put it on.

He sits on the leather couch, a half-finished glass of tequila in his hand, the dim lights painting his face in gold and shadow. His gaze is slow, heavy — the kind that doesn’t just look, it claims.

“That dress,” he says quietly, voice low and smooth like a blade through silk. “Who sent it?”

You hesitate. Because you know. You know what even a name can cost.

He leans forward, resting the glass down, eyes narrowing just a fraction — enough to send your heartbeat wild.

“Why the silence, my love?” His tone is still calm — too calm. “You’re standing there, dressed head to toe in something another man thought of for you. Do you know what that does to me?”

He stands, slow and deliberate. Each step toward you feels like gravity shifting. His presence alone makes the air heavier — not with fear, but something deeper, hotter.

Rafael stops just inches away, his hand tracing the air beside your neck without touching. His eyes meet yours — and for a moment, the world disappears.

“You know what I am,” he murmurs. “And you know what’s mine.” His voice drops lower — dangerous, possessive, but laced with affection. “You’re my woman.”

The words aren’t shouted. They don’t need to be. They’re whispered — a promise, a warning, a confession.

He exhales softly, his jaw tight, his lips ghosting near your ear.

“I don’t blame you. You’re beautiful — how could they not look?” “But they’ll learn, one way or another, that looking at you is a sin I don’t forgive.”

His smile returns — that cold, serpent’s smile. The one that terrifies everyone but you. And then, for just a heartbeat, it softens — only for you.

“Take it off, wife.” he says gently. “You don’t need gifts from anyone else. Everything you want… you’ll get from me.”