"A billionaire’s son shoved me to the marble floor of a packed Manhattan restaurant, then stood over me while wealthy strangers watched in silence. He thought I was just a waitress he could humiliate without consequences, until the most feared man in the room pushed back his chair and stood up.

The illusion of absolute safety at The Obsidian shattered on a rainy Tuesday night.

I was in the back office, tallying the nightly receipts, when I heard a heavy crash from the loading dock hallway. I stepped out of the office, intending to yell at a careless delivery driver.

Instead, I froze.

At the end of the dimly lit concrete corridor, two of Victor’s massive enforcers were holding a bloodied, bruised man on his knees.

Victor stood in front of the man, his suit jacket discarded, his white shirt sleeves rolled up. He held a heavy steel wrench in his right hand.

“You skimmed fifty thousand dollars from my shipping crates, Tony,” Victor’s voice echoed in the hallway. It was devoid of the quiet warmth he showed me. It was the voice of a monster.

“Boss, please!” the man sobbed, spitting blood onto the concrete. “I had gambling debts! They were gonna kill me!”

“And you thought stealing from me was the safer option?” Victor asked coldly.

He raised the steel wrench.

I let out a sharp gasp, stepping backward. My heel clicked loudly against the floor.

Victor’s head snapped toward me. The violent, murderous rage in his eyes made my blood run cold. For a terrifying second, he looked at me like I was a stranger.

Then, he slowly lowered the wrench.

He tossed the heavy tool to one of the enforcers. “Break his legs. Throw him out back.”

Victor turned and walked down the hallway toward me. I backed into the office, my heart hammering violently in my chest. He followed me inside, kicking the door shut behind him.

He was breathing heavily, his knuckles stained with a few drops of blood.

“You weren't supposed to see that,” Victor said roughly.

“You’re a criminal,” I whispered, stating the absolute truth I had been trying to ignore.

Victor stepped closer, trapping me between his chest and the desk. He didn't try to deny it.

“I am a monster, Anna,” he murmured, leaning down so his face was inches from mine. “I do terrible, violent things to men who cross me. I built this empire on blood and fear.”

He reached out, his bloodstained hand gently brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.

“But I will never, ever let the violence touch you. Do you believe me?”