BAD BOY'S BADASS GIRL

My steaming cup of black decaf coffee spilled on my shirt. Wanna know how? Fine. Let’s go back—three hours, a half-empty inbox, and one absolutely devastating email ago. Sent to me by my boss, let's not name him yet. I arrived twenty minutes early, as always. The law firm lobby was polished spotless and alive with the sharp clack of heels on those polished marble floors and the muted hum of urgent conversations. Everyone moved like they were walking on a tightrope strung above ethical ruin, pretending they weren’t. I liked that kind of controlled chaos. It made me feel like I had some control over everything around me, even if only over myself. Unlike the trembling hand that betrayed me as it spilled hazelnut latte across the cream silk blouse I had carefully ironed for twenty minutes that morning. Tragic, I know. But was it my fault, maybe. My phone buzzed with an email from my boss, Marcus Reyes. The subject line screamed urgency: “URGENT—Meet Our New Client.” My breath hitched as I opened it. The client’s name chilled the room around me before I even read the details: De Luca Holdings. Notorious. Dangerous. Mafia. No, I wasn’t ready to step into fire. I was still staring at the screen when a sudden sharp nudge hit my arm. “Watch it,” a voice growled. Before I could react, the trembling in my hand caused the coffee cup to lurch violently, dousing my blouse and coat with scalding liquid. Cream silk, ruined. My tan coat, sacrificed. The man who bumped into me towered like a storm cloud, dressed in a sleek black trench coat, his expression unreadable. He turned slowly. Dark hair slicked back, sculpted cheekbones shadowed by faint stubble, and eyes like ice water melting into whiskey—cold, sharp, and intoxicating. A smirk played on his lips, arrogant and dismissive. “You should watch where you’re going,” he said lazily, his voice low and gravelly—velvet laced with broken glass. “Excuse me?” I snapped, desperation pushing my words. I grabbed at a napkin from the coffee bar, trying to blot the spreading stain as if it could undo the chaos. “You walked into me,” he said with a shrug, as if the whole thing was a trivial inconvenience. “No, you walked into me. I was here first” I shot back, heart pounding harder than I wanted to admit. The barista leaned over with a tired smile. “Sorry, miss. He’s a regular.” Of course. Chaos always had VIP status. Then it hit me—the face. The name. Alessio De Luca. The man I was supposed to be working with on the case my boss just assigned me. No. No. No. The man I was meant to shadow—the smug, heartless, infuriatingly handsome mafia prince—had just baptized me in overpriced caffeine. He glanced down at my ruined blouse, then met my eyes again. “Don’t worry. Beige’s a boring color anyway.” I opened my mouth to retort. Closed it. My brain short-circuited under the weight of his smirk as he walked away. “Arghh this can't get any worse,” I muttered. From behind me, Marcus Reyes appeared, clipboard in hand, eyes trained on Ash’s retreating figure. “Unfortunately, It can. That’s Alessio De Luca. Your new assignment.” I stared at him, clutching the soggy napkin like a battle flag. “He just spilled coffee on me.” Marcus raised a brow. “And you lived. Consider it an initiation.” By noon, I found myself trapped in a sterile boardroom, forced to breathe the same air as Ash and Marcus. Ash lounged in his chair like he owned the place, legs stretched arrogantly beneath the table, flipping through confidential files with detached interest. “Miss Beige,” he drawled, dragging my name out like a slow, wicked melody. “You clean up nicely.” As he peered through my coffee-soaked blouse revealing my cleavage. I squared my shoulders. “I don’t recall asking for your opinion.” A slow smile curved his lips. “But you like that I gave it.” A sharp pang of irritation—and something else—spiked my chest. Across the table, Marcus shot a warning glance between us. “We’re here for legal strategy, Alessio. Not flirting services.” Ash’s head tilted, eyes glinting with mischief. “Who said I was flirting?” His gaze locked onto mine. “I was provoking.” My fingers clenched into fists beneath the table. I wasn’t here to be toyed with. I was here to build a future—one far away from corruption, poverty, and men like him. I reminded myself of my mother’s voice, steady and worn with worry: “Celeste, stay far from bad boys. They’ll swallow you whole.” Later, in the sanctuary of the restroom, I splashed cold water over my wrists, trying to wash away the heat of his presence. He was dangerous, but worse, he was interesting—irritatingly so. In the silence, I felt more seen than I dared admit. Stepping back into the hall, I found Leina waiting with two steaming coffees and a knowing grin. “You look like a woman who just lost a fight with God.” “Close,” I whispered. “I saw the devil.” She laughed. “Hot devil or the politician kind?” “Both.” That night, as I sat alone with the glow of my laptop, Marcus’s latest email blinked ominously: “Prepare a summary of all De Luca Holdings’ ongoing cases. Alessio De Luca wants to review them… with you.” Alone. A knock startled me from my thoughts. I wasn’t expecting anyone. I opened the door. There he stood. No smirk this time. Just quiet menace. “You’re in over your head, Miss. And now… you’re in mine too.” Who are you? Why do you occupy my mind so much? As he stared into her eyes with peak curiosity