Elena blinked, confused. "Boss?"
She repeated, her voice laced with uncertainty.
What was this man talking about? She had come to meet her husband—not some "boss."
"This way, please," the man said with a courteous but firm gesture.
Following him inside the eerily silent café, Elena felt her curiosity warring with a sense of unease.
The café was as still as a graveyard; even the street outside had been deserted. Her eyes scanned the empty tables before they landed on a figure seated in the corner, his back facing her.
"Boss, she's here," the man announced.
Slowly, the figure rose and turned, revealing a face Elena instantly recognized—her husband.
Yet, he looked entirely different, exuding a commanding presence, dressed in a suit so meticulously tailored it radiated power and authority.
"Hi," he greeted her, a slight smile tugging at his lips.
"H-hi…" she stammered, caught off guard.
"Leave us," he instructed, his voice sharp and unyielding.
The man who'd escorted her bowed and exited, leaving the two of them alone.
Elena's heart hammered as she sank into the chair he'd pulled out for her, her mind racing with a thousand questions.
He walked to counter and returned to the table, setting down a glass of iced tea and a slice of tiramisu cake. "Please, enjoy," he said, settling down across from her, his gaze unwavering.
Tentatively, Elena took a bite of the cake, barely tasting it.
Summoning her courage, she finally asked, "Who are you?"
Damon's smile broadened as he took a bite of the cake himself. "I'm your husband," he replied calmly.
Elena scoffed, glancing around the deserted café, then back at him. "I'm aware of that. What I want to know is how you managed to empty an entire café—and the street outside."
He chuckled, leaning back in his chair, amusement dancing in his eyes. "You're very beautiful."
"Nice try. Spill it."
He sighed, seemingly relenting.
Rising from his seat, he began unbuttoning his shirt. Elena's eyes tracked his every move, her pulse quickening as he unfastened each button, slowly revealing a chiseled chest adorned with intricate tattoos.
She swallowed hard, feeling a blush creep onto her cheeks as his shirt fell open. Despite herself, she couldn't look away.
Damon smirked, noticing her reaction. "Like what you see?" he teased.
Without hesitation, she shot back, "Want to do it?"
His eyes widened, and for a moment, the powerful, composed figure seemed genuinely flustered.
He coughed, fanning himself slightly, his gaze shifting away as he avoided her eyes.
"What? You shy now?" Elena laughed, her boldness surprising even herself.
After a few moments, he regained his composure and sat down, clearing his throat.
His intense gaze returned, though a hint of something softer lurked behind it.
"So, what was it you wanted to tell me that required you to take off your shirt?" she asked, her playful tone belying her curiosity.
With a solemn look, he stood up again, turning his back toward her.
As he did, Elena's breath caught in her throat.
His back was covered in a massive, dark tattoo—a dragon intertwined with a snake, the unmistakable emblem of the Black Serpent Mafia.
Elena's heart stopped. She'd heard rumors of the Black Serpent Mafia, the most feared organization in the country, rumored to hold even the highest officials in their grip. And their ruthless leader? He was known simply as "The Devil."
Realization crashed over her. Her husband was none other than The Devil himself.
Shock paralyzed her. Without thinking, Elena dropped to her knees, her head bowed.
Anyone who dared disrespect a member of the Black Serpent Mafia faced severe consequences. She wouldn't risk her life—or the lives of her loved ones.
Damon's gaze softened at the sight. This was never his intention.
"What are you doing? Get up," he said, his voice gentler than before, though his tone left no room for defiance.
Obediently, Elena rose, her eyes glued to the floor.
"What are you so afraid of?" he asked softly, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze.
Words failed her.
Although he was infamous for inspiring terror, the fear in her eyes stirred something unexpected within him—a feeling he hadn't anticipated.
"Don't be scared," he murmured, his voice low, almost comforting.
Just then, the man from earlier burst back into the café, his expression tense. Damon's expression instantly hardened, sensing trouble.
"What's going on?" he demanded.
"Boss, there's been an incident," the man replied urgently.
Damon clenched his jaw and looked back at Elena. "I'm sorry, I have to go." Without another word, he strode out of the café, his men trailing him in a tight formation.
The moment they were gone, Elena bolted out of the café, her heart pounding as she raced to her car. She didn't stop driving until she was far away, unwilling to spend another second in that terrifying scene.
---
At the Black Serpent Mafia Hideout
"Forgive me, boss,"
A trembling man pleaded, kneeling on the cold ground. He had mistakenly killed an officer, obliterating the precarious peace between the police and the Mafia.
"Forgive you?" Damon's voice was a chilling whisper as he sat before the man, a gun resting in his hand.
The warmth he'd shown earlier had vanished, replaced by the icy detachment of a man feared by all.
The man sobbed, begging for mercy, his voice cracked and desperate. "Please, boss… I have a family—a wife, a two-year-old daughter. They need me."
Unmoved by the man tears and pleas, Damon raised the gun, pressing it against the man's forehead, his finger hovering over the trigger.
But before he could pull it, the doors to the hideout burst open. Armed officers flooded in, their weapons trained on Damon and his men.
"Hands up!" one of them shouted, filling the room with tension.
Damon's eyes scanned the scene. They were surrounded, outnumbered, Leaving both him and his men with only one option.
With a resigned sigh, he dropped his gun, raising his hands in surrender.