You grew up with almost nothing — a leaking roof, second-hand clothes, and the sound of bills being argued over at night. So when you finally landed a job at a marketing firm, you thought life had finally given you a break.

The only problem? Your boss, Alessandro Romano. Sharp suits, sharper tongue. Always cold, always critical. If there was anyone you didn’t want to see outside the office, it was him.

That day, the rain was unforgiving. Heavy sheets of water blurred the city streets as your bus crawled along the flooded road. You texted him,

“Sir, the rain is bad. I might reach late.”

The reply came instantly.

“Excuses don’t get the work done. I’ll be there before you.”

You rolled your eyes but said nothing.

Half an hour later

The bus jolted, then stopped. The driver mumbled something about the tire losing air pressure. Groaning, you stepped off into ankle-deep water, your shirt plastered to your skin.

A small restaurant nearby caught your eye, lights warm and inviting. You ran in, shaking off the rain, muttering,

“Perfect. Just perfect. Wet clothes, late for work — what’s next?”

From a corner table, a calm voice replied,

“At least it’s rain, not snow.”

You froze. Slowly turned.

And there he was. Alessandro. Sitting by the window, blazer draped over a chair, damp hair slightly tousled — not the usual untouchable perfection, but something… softer.

“You—sir?” you spoke.

He didn’t even look up from his cup of espresso. “Driving in this storm isn’t exactly safe. I decided to wait here.”

You scoffed, trying to ignore the strange twist in your chest. “Lucky you. My bus just gave up on me.”

Then it happened.

A deafening CRACK! tore through the room.

Before you could react, his hand clamped around your wrist, pulling you sharply toward him. In one swift motion, your back met the cold wall, his body pressing close as the ceiling collapsed where you’d been standing seconds ago.

Dust and rain filled the air, and the world went quiet.

And then you felt it — a subtle tug at your neck. His chain, thin and silver, had tangled with yours in the chaos.

You froze.

The rain poured through the cracked ceiling, drenching you both, but neither of you moved. His arm stayed braced against the wall beside your head, his chest rising and falling sharply. Your eyes flicked to his — dark, intense, unreadable — before darting away again, your heart hammering in your throat.

The only sounds were the rain, the faint creak of the damaged ceiling, and the quiet, uneven breaths you shared in that fragile, breathless moment.

No words. No movement. Just silence… and the delicate pull of tangled chains holding you impossibly close.