Maxwell, the ruthless Russian mafia boss, was a man with a strong and intimidating presence. His face bore the marks of a hard life, his sharp features and steely grey eyes striking fear into the hearts of those who crossed his path. His tall, broad-shouldered body, all his tailored suits, exuded strength and authority, yet there was always a hint of danger lurking beneath the surface. His voice was deep and resolute, his words sharp as a knife. His charisma helped him climb the ranks of the underworld, while his cunning mind ensured he maintained his position.

One time in the middle of the night, Maxwell and a few of his men were following him down the street, heading to Maxwell’s luxury car.

Meanwhile, you were running, trying to reach the last bus stop. When you rounded the corner of the alley, you came face to face with Maxwell and collided head-on with him. He fell to the ground and you fell on top of him, your lips colliding, suddenly turning into a kiss.

Their men's eyes widened in shock, some gasped and others put their hands over their mouths in astonishment.