The Mafia Boss Is The Man Of My Dreams

Chapter 4

“I heard you asked for me, sir,” I chirped the moment I walked into the expansive corner office, plastering an award-winning, completely fake corporate smile on my face.

“I thought you wouldn’t come, Aria,” Conan said. A smug, knowing smirk rested comfortably on his lips as he stood up from behind his desk and walked toward me, his movements slow and deliberate.

“Why would I ever ignore the call of a superior, sir?” I breathed, keeping my voice entirely calm.

If this was the power game he wanted to play on his first day, then who was I not to play along? I needed this job.

“Drop the bullshit, Aria,” he said, suddenly bursting into a sharp, mocking laugh and a frown spread across my face. What exactly was so amusing to him?

“I have absolutely no idea what you mean, sir,” I pressed forward, refusing to drop my professional guard.

“This wasn’t the brave little tone you used with me in the hallway earlier,” he said, stepping even deeper into my personal space. “What’s the matter? Are you scared now that you know exactly who I am? That’ll be incredibly disappointing, don’t you think?”

I finally let out a sharp sigh, my hands flying to my waist as the corporate mask cracked.

“What exactly do you want, Conan?” I asked, making my irritation obvious.

His smile grew exponentially. “That’s more like it,” he whispered, finally closing the remaining distance between us. “It’s much nicer hearing my name come out of your mouth.”

I immediately took a step back, my spine hitting the edge of a filing cabinet. “Why was I called in here?”

The mind games were already wearing me out. Was I getting fired, or was he just a textbook power-tripping executive? Like, wrap it up.

“I have an exclusive offer for you,” he started, closing the distance yet again. Before I could react, his hands flew to my waist, holding me firmly against the cabinet.

I tried to squirm out of his grip, a flash of genuine anger sparking in my chest, but he didn’t budge. He was stronger than he looked. Realizing a physical struggle in a glass office might look worse to outsiders, I stopped, forcing my eyes to meet his cold, predatory stare.

“What offer?” I demanded.

His eyes sparkled with a dangerous type of amusement. “You seem like exactly the kind of girl I’d like to keep in my bed, Aria. At first glance, you look like someone who knows how to listen well to commands.”

A sharp, incredulous laugh nearly slipped out of me. He couldn’t be serious. This guy was a walking HR lawsuit.

“So, how about you let me have you, and I make your corporate life here a whole lot simpler?” he finished, his voice dripping with casual entitlement.

This time, the laugh actually escaped my lips. So he was serious. Where did this man think we were—high school?

“And what exactly can a man like you do for me?” I asked, trying to temporarily indulge him just to find an opening to push him off, but even my fake amusement was rapidly failing me.

“I can give you everything you’ve ever wanted, and more,” he whispered, his breath hot and unsettling against my neck. I felt his hand dangerously begin to slide from my waist downward, stripping away any lingering patience I had.

Just as I raised my hand to slap his arm away—

The sharp, piercing ring of the desk telephone shattered the silence of the room.

My eyes immediately darted to the flashing caller ID on his desk. “You should get that,

sir,” I spat out, using the distraction to firmly shove his chest and break his grip.

Conan shot me an irritated look, but moved backward to grab the receiver. The exact microsecond his eyes registered the name on the flashing screen, the color completely drained from his face. His hands flew to his tie, straightening his clothes with the frantic, terrified energy of a man caught doing something entirely forbidden.

He didn't even pick up the line yet. He slammed his hand over the receiver, turned to me, and hissed, “You need to get out of here. Now!”

I blinked, stunned. “What??”

He grabbed my arm with a trembling hand, actively shoving me toward the heavy office door while lifting the phone to his ear with the other. “Out!”

I stumbled back out into the corridor, the door clicking shut behind me. It wasn’t like I wanted to be in his stupid lion's den in the first place, but there was absolutely no need to chase me out like a dirty secret. Rich people truly operated on a completely different, psychotic spectrum.

I turned and walked rapidly down the corridor, trying to smooth down my wrinkled blouse. I was almost at the end of the hallway when a tall silhouette rounded the corner, passing directly by me.

One single glance at him made my entire body stop dead in its tracks.

My head turned instinctively, my eyes locking onto his retreating back as if he were a mesmerizing, dark piece of art.

But it wasn't just his posture. It was the air around him.

A perfume lingered in his wake—rich, clean, laced with heavy leather, and a distinct, smoky spice.

A violent shockwave tore through my chest. The scent. It was him. It was the exact, intoxicating scent from my unholy dreams, the one that had been driving me insane for three solid weeks. My subconscious screamed, recognizing the aura immediately.

If I thought Conan’s suit was custom made, this man’s charcoal tailoring was on an entirely different level. I hadn't even caught a proper look at his face, yet every instinct in my body knew he was breathtaking.

Who on earth was he? Was he the terrifying reason Conan had shoved me out of the office like illegal contraband?

By the time I finally made it back to my desk, my knees were physically weak. My thoughts were entirely consumed by the stranger. Why hadn't I looked at his face properly? I had one job—one single job to protect my own sanity—and I had fumbled it completely.

Way to go, Aria.

I spent the next two hours staring blankly at my dual monitors, completely unable to focus. Thoughts of Conan's sleazy threat didn't even register anymore; this new stranger had entirely hijacked my mind. Was he a new shareholder? A business partner? A shadow consultant?

Desperate for a distraction to clear my head, I gathered a stack of files and walked over to the marketing department to drop off the final transition paperwork for the day.

I was just about to turn the quiet corner near the marketing room when that exact charcoal suit jacket caught my eye.

I froze instantly, my heart hammering against my ribs, waiting for him to reach my hallway. Miracles didn't happen twice on a Monday. There was absolutely no way I was missing his face a second time.

In a matter of seconds, he stepped into the light directly in front of me—and God, my imagination hadn't even done him justice.

He wasn’t just handsome; he was devastatingly breathtaking. He carried a cold, masculine gravity that seemed to bend the very air in the room. His sharp, angular jawline alone deserved its own spotlight. I must have been staring like a completely unhinged person, because a deep voice suddenly pulled me right out of my trance.

“You’re the girl from Conan’s office, aren’t you?” he said.

I couldn’t even form a coherent syllable. My throat was completely dry.

His dark, piercing eyes tracked over me, a cold, mocking glint appearing in them. “So, he already has his little playthings lining up around him on day one,” he added casually, his tone dripping with a dangerous kind of disdain.

My brain violently rebooted at the implication.

“I am not his plaything,” I forced out, my voice coming out lower and shakier than I intended.

His gaze swept over me again—slow, heavy, and intensely assessing. Under the immense weight of that dark stare, I suddenly felt entirely exposed.

“Cover yourself up properly before you try to argue that point, sweetheart,” he fired back smoothly. He gave a subtle, mocking nod toward my chest.

My eyes darted down. Turns out that in my frantic rush after Conan had gripped my waist, the top two buttons of my blouse had slipped completely undone, exposing a dangerous amount of skin.

A dark frown crossed his striking features as he watched me . He stepped closer, his scent clouding my senses again, and I swore I heard him mutter a low,“Cute”—before he brushed right past me, leaving me stranded in the hallway.

My hands immediately flew to my shirt, gripping the fabric tightly as my fingers trembled to fix the buttons.

Who the hell was that man, and why did his mere gaze have the power to completely shatter me?

One thing was absolute certainty, though. Conan's petty corporate games didn't matter anymore. This dangerous stranger was far more interesting—and infinitely more terrifying.