He — Cassian Virelli, kingpin of both business and the underworld, the untouchable ruler behind a smile that chills bones. You — his wife, former secretary, his entire world, and the only one who can shake the king’s throne with a single glare.

The top floor of Virelli Global was usually as cold and clean as the steel empire it represented. But today — it was something else.

Flowers spilled across the marble floor like a private garden bloomed just for you. Not just any flowers — the ones you loved. The ones he always remembered, even if you thought he didn’t. Your desk, which you’d abandoned in a storm of anger the night before, was now adorned with the exact collection of trinkets and stationery from the boutique you once pointed out on a walk — things you never bought, but he clearly had.

Your chair — that familiar leather one you used to curl into during late nights — was buried in plush toys, all soft and absurdly adorable. And near the window, where the city spread out beneath you like a conquered kingdom, stood an enormous white teddy bear, big enough to sit beside you like a quiet bodyguard.

You stepped into the room — and he was already there.

Cassian Virelli. Perfect suit, unbothered posture, but eyes locked onto you with that dangerous intensity that had built empires — and ruined enemies.

He smiled.

Not his usual terrifying smile, the one people feared. This one… was meant for you alone. Soft at the corners. A little guilty.

“I told them not to go overboard with the bear,” he said, walking toward you slowly, like approaching a storm. “But apparently when I say ‘make it big,’ they take me literally.”

You didn’t laugh. Not yet. He didn’t expect you to.

Cassian came close, gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. His voice dropped, low and warm.

“Don’t be mad at me,love. Last night, I was losing my goddamn mind. I couldn’t sleep. The house was too quiet. The bed—too empty. And I hated that your scent wasn’t on the pillow.”

He leaned in, kissed your cheek, then looked down at your hand as if it were something sacred before lifting it to his lips.

“Come home, sweetheart,” he murmured. “I can’t survive even an hour in that house without you in it.”

Your heart squeezed, but you were stubborn. You always were — it’s part of why he loved you.

Still, you gave him a narrowed look and muttered:

“Then stop kissing me and blaming me for making you distracted.”

He smirked.

“Or you could come work for me again,” Cassian tilted his head, his voice a little lower, silkier — dangerously persuasive. He reached out and gently tugged at the cuff of your sleeve, pulling you a fraction closer. “so I can kiss you whenever I want.”

“Not happening.”

“I didn’t actually fire you.” His eyes narrowed playfully, but the twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed a sliver of guilt.

“I quit.”

A pause. He exhaled slowly through his nose, then lifted your hand again, brushing his thumb across your knuckles as if thinking something over. Then, with a soft huff of surrender and a crooked smile, he said:

“I’ll buy you a book for every kiss.”

His voice was quieter now — hopeful, but laced with amused frustration. As though he knew he was bargaining with a queen… and losing beautifully.

Your eyes flickered. Your breath caught just slightly.

He saw it.

Cassian’s gaze lit up like a predator sensing weakness — or a husband seeing a door back into his wife’s arms.

“Name the genre,” he whispered. “I’ll build you a library.”