Chapter 15
Chapter 15
In the dimly lit room, Vladimir sat on the bed, staring ahead with a somewhat blank look. The yellow glow of a magic lamp traced wavy lines down his face. Like his mood right now, the somber light beaded like dew on his jaw and on the photos across the room.
Thousands of Milanas he’d gathered over the years, even using his subordinates, smiled brightly on the white wall. None of them were looking at him. But every time he saw them, his head grew hot and his chest felt like it would burst. He couldn’t stop collecting them, couldn’t stop looking at them like some daily ritual. Even now. Obsessively. Devoutly. Like worshipping a god.
‘Milana, where are you going?’
‘Ah… Bo… no, Lord Vladimir, hello…?’
He’d been so careful to make sure the woman he loved wouldn’t fear him. All that effort turned to scraps and got trampled into the dirt. He couldn’t even be her closest friend anymore. That fact stung deep. After the s*x he’d used the spell reversal as an excuse for, Milana turned pale every time she saw him. She couldn’t even meet his eyes. It had been almost two weeks now.
Hello… she said. F**k.
He never knew a polite greeting could become such a bizarre phrase, one that only stirred up irritation and defeat every time he replayed it. The moment he realized his years of careful work had turned to nothing in an instant. He had no idea how to close this sudden distance between them. It made him sick.
The man buried his face in his hands and gritted his teeth. His head and chest rang with the same looping question, one that would never resolve. What was even more ridiculous was his own d**k, going into heat the moment he stood in front of Milana’s photos, even at a time like this. Like some s*x-crazed animal.
But how could he stop it now? He already knew that small body was so much softer and sweeter than he’d ever imagined.
Knock knock.
“Come in.”
He answered without bothering to hide the embarrassing state of his lower half. Only one person would knock on his door at this hour anyway.
“Boss. I’ve brought today’s photos of Miss Milana.”
“Give them here.”
Even now, the scarred man carried out his duties diligently. In fact, the worst situations only sharpened his focus. His team had been formed for one purpose anyway. The boss’s love life.
“1,641 photos. Today’s Miss Milana. As of this moment, she is working at the bakery.”
He held out twice the usual stack and bit his lip. As a mafioso, the little boss was unmatched. Every virtue required, he had it. But in love, he was a damn infant. Watching from the side was enough to make a man lose his mind. Everyone’s clumsy with their first love. But did his boss have to look this pathetic?
Getting ignored by Milana for a bit, and there he was, digging himself a hole every night. It was cute, for his age. And also pretty damn pitiful.
“Yeah.”
He already knew, so Vladimir answered flatly, taking the photos. A gloomy heat seeped into his violet eyes, darkened by shadow.
Ha. I can’t even be next to her and she still looks prettier. This really f*****g sucks.
“She’ll probably head to the library to study after her shift. Keep an eye on her surroundings. Thoroughly. But don’t ever let her notice you.”
“Yes, sir.”
Of course.
A mafia boss is meant to be feared. The scarred man never quite understood it, and it unsettled him. His boss had lived his whole life as the heir to the biggest family, yet he couldn’t even stand the fact that his crush was scared of him. He remembered the years his boss had spent wearing those thick glasses, putting on a pathetic, tear-jerking act just to avoid leaving a bad impression. And now he’d ruined that image in front of her. He couldn’t even face her normally. The scarred man had no idea how his boss would break through this strange standoff. He had a bad feeling about it.
“…And who’s this bastard?”
The man had been looking over each new photo of Milana with a heated gaze, almost licking them with his eyes. Suddenly, frost settled in his stare.
His boss tapped a photo with his index finger. Milana was packing bread at the counter. In the frame, a man stood with his back turned, digging through his pockets to pay.
“Just a customer.”
“Not just a customer. Isn’t that the same guy from before? Same hair color and style.”
“The guy from before… you mean?”
“The bastard in the photo the big guy tore up.”
Hair style?
The scarred man squinted to look closer. The Polaroid itself was small, and since they’d shot it from far away to avoid being seen, the customer’s head was smaller than a pinky nail. And it was a back view. He already knew his boss’s sharp temper when it came to any male creature near Milana, even a customer. But he hadn’t expected him to pick a fight over the tiny back of a man who wasn’t even looking at her. An unremarkable hairstyle. Plain black hair. For a moment, the scarred man struggled with how to respond.
“I’m not… sure…”
“Look properly.”
The voice was curt, full of baseless certainty. The scarred man felt it in that moment. This was a classic case of asking a question with the answer already decided.
As a rule, when your direct superior, the next boss no less, says something, a good subordinate claps and agrees even if he claims he can bake bread out of s**t.
“…I think you’re right.”
And in that moment, a chill shot down his spine. He knew. He’d screwed up. Workplace virtues be damned. He should not have said that.
His boss’s irises, which could look violet or reddish-purple depending on his mood, now burned a fiery crimson. Vladimir’s thin, taut patience had finally snapped.
“Boss! Miss Milana just finished work! She’s probably heading to the library by now!”
At this rate, a civilian love-triangle murder was about to happen. A deeply disgraceful title for any dignified mafioso.
The scarred man could practically see the headlines on the papers that would frame his boss’s photo. Red alert. So he did what he had to. He threw Milana under the bus.
“Exams are coming up! I heard she got off early today!”
The window flew open.
“Lord Vladimir!”
The highly trained man didn’t waste a single second. He flung himself out to pursue his desire.
In the end, Vladimir couldn’t take the strange standoff anymore. He made up his mind. His wounded heart whispered to him. If he couldn’t earn Milana’s affection, he’d use her fear to keep her by his side.
Vladimir had always been good at prioritizing. He decided Milana’s heart was a secondary issue. The most important thing was to plant her next to him by any means necessary.
Watching the back rapidly disappearing out the window, the scarred man let out a hollow mutter.
“Please just don’t cause a disaster…”
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