“I told you not to get too close, Hanz!” Devandra snapped, barely holding back the rage that had been simmering since morning.
From inside a sleek black car with tinted windows, Devandra’s sharp gaze locked on the woman standing by the entrance of the Bastian Group building—Vania. The wind danced through her hair, casting a soft serenity across her face. But he knew better. He saw it in her eyes—that pain. A pain he had caused.
“Apologies, Sir. I just wanted to make sure no one bothers her,” Hanz muttered, bowing slightly, though his eyes couldn’t help drifting toward Vania, who was now chatting with a colleague.
Devandra raised a hand, signaling him to stop talking. “She’s had enough of being watched. If she finds out we’re stalking her like this… she’ll hate me even more.”
Hanz gave
