She hadn't seen him before. Just as he managed to reply, her phone rang, shattering her thoughts. She hurriedly picked up the call, stepping away from the fine-looking man. A fleeting wish crossed her mind—if only he was Mr. Rafael.
"Yes, Mr. Fasto. I haven't forgotten our meeting; I'll be there," Erika said before ending the call. As she turned to leave, she stole another glance at the mysterious man. He hadn't lifted his eyes from his notebook, his calm features betraying nothing.
She sighed. *I need a new secretary—this workload is killing me.*
As she approached her car, she noticed a cluster of guards waiting for her. At least ten of them—maybe more.
"What's wrong?" Erika asked, her sharp gaze scanning each of them. Their imposing physiques gleamed under the sun, their muscles straining against the fabric of their uniforms. *They look dangerous,* she thought.
*"I bet they can't even think straight. And why are they all so tall? My neck hurts just looking up at them,"* she mused, suppressing her irritation.
"Our boss, Mr. Fasto, has requested you come to him directly. He prefers to have the meeting at his place," one of the guards, a pale-skinned man with a deep voice, informed her. "If you have any objections, please let us know."
Erika's eyes flicked to her car, then back at them. She didn't like this arrangement. That car meant a lot to her—it was a symbol of her hard-earned success after three years of struggle.
"I'll drive your car, Madam. Shall we?" Another bodyguard, wearing a hat, opened the door for her.
She hesitated. *This doesn't feel right.* But she had little choice.
"Okay," she said, dragging out the word.
Her grip on her bag tightened as she recalled what she knew about Mr. Fasto—dangerous, a drug dealer, and worst of all, a diagnosed schizophrenic.
*"You're not going to die. Calm down, Erika,"* she reassured herself with a deep breath.
The ride was silent, tense. She kept a close eye on the bodyguard driving her car. Under normal circumstances, she would have refused a meeting under such sketchy conditions, but their company needed Mr. Fasto's financial backing.
They arrived at a sleek high-rise downtown. Erika barely had time to take in the elegant architecture before she found herself flanked by bodyguards—two in front, three behind, one on each side.
*"This is overkill. What the hell is about to happen to me?"*
Inside, she was led to a lavishly decorated room. The furniture was exquisite, the design meticulous. She hadn't expected someone like Fasto to have such refined taste.
At the center of the room, a man lounged carelessly, feet propped on the desk, smoke curling from a pipe between his lips. Papers were scattered across the table, alongside two pistols and a gun within easy reach.
Her stomach twisted. *This isn't Mr. Fasto.*
Before she could process the situation, the man spoke.
"I'm Alfredo Gabriel Fasto. The new boss now."
His yellowed teeth and the acrid scent of smoke made Erika instantly cautious. He dragged a knife along the table absentmindedly, his eyes dark and unreadable.
Before she could respond, an older man in his fifties entered the room. "Madam Erika, I apologize for the delay. I had an urgent call—" He stopped mid-sentence, his gaze locking onto Alfredo, who immediately straightened up, silent.
"Mr. Fasto," Erika addressed the older man, confusion swirling in her mind. *What kind of power play is happening here?*
The older Fasto waved a dismissive hand. "Ignore my son's reckless behavior. Anyway, shall we begin?"
Erika's instincts screamed at her to leave, but she forced herself to stay composed.
"I believe we've already discussed the profit percentage our company will receive. I reviewed the contract with you, correct?"
Mr. Fasto nodded. His appearance contradicted every rumor she'd heard—he looked almost… refined, despite the dangerous aura surrounding him.
"I have no issue with the contract adjustments," he said smoothly. "This meeting is for another purpose."
A strange tension entered his voice, something unspoken lurking beneath his words.
Erika narrowed her eyes. "What is it, Mr. Fasto? I'm listening." She crossed one leg over the other, keeping her face unreadable.
He studied her for a moment before speaking. "To be honest, my son has taken an interest in you. He hasn't said it outright, but I can tell." His expression darkened. "As a father, I must do something to make him happy."
Erika's breath caught. Her wide eyes flicked toward Alfredo, who was still standing stiffly in the corner.
*"That criminal-looking brute?"* she nearly blurted out. But Mr. Fasto's smirk made her swallow her words.
"No, not this one," he corrected, amusement lacing his voice. "I have another son. His name is Daniel."
That caught her off guard. Erika rose to her feet, thrown off by the sudden turn of conversation.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Fasto. I have to go. And as for your… *offer*, I have no intention of accepting it." Her voice was firm, unwavering.
Mr. Fasto simply smiled, nodding as though he'd expected her reaction. "Just think about it, Madam Erika. I'm not asking you to marry him—just… spend a few nights with him."
Erika's blood boiled.
"That's enough. I'm leaving," she snapped, her patience gone.
As she stormed out of the building, anger and disgust warred inside her. *I lowered my standards for this company, and for what?*
"Hell no. That man is insane," she muttered under her breath.
Reaching her car, she snatched her keys from the bodyguard, ready to put as much distance between herself and this madness as possible.
"Madam, there's someone in the car," the bodyguard said, his voice uneasy.
Erika barely processed his words as she flung the door open, sliding into the driver's seat.
She inserted the key.
"Morning."
A voice—low, unfamiliar, chilling—greeted her.
Her heart stopped.