Thalia lay across the bed, eyes half-closed, while Vicious sat on the couch, working under the soft glow of the lamp. The faint tapping is heard.
she turned restlessly, her brow furrowing as the light brushed across his face. Vicious noticed.
"Is the light disturbing you?" he asked gently.
Vicious eyes met hers. "No, it's fine," she murmured, though her voice was little with sleep.
She smiled faintly. "You can stay up with the light if you want. I know you've had a long day. It's actually my fault you barely got to work because I dragged you all over the city."
He gave a quiet exhale, the corner of his lips twitching. "You don't have to apologize for that."
Thalia got up and walked toward him, curiosity flickering in her eyes as she looked over his laptop screen. "Do you know anything about this?" he asked, motioning to a report, as she looked curious
"Well, not really," she said, leaning closer. "But maybe I can help." She took the laptop and tapped through a few things, surprising him with how quickly she understood.
"Wow," he said, watching her. "Have you ever considered working for me?"
"I already am," she replied softly, glancing at him. "Right now, I'm working for you in your house, aren't I?"
He chuckled under his breath, but his gaze lingered longer than he intended. Something in his chest stirred. As she lay down on the bed him. He closed the laptop and slept on the couch.
What have you done to me, Thalia?
He turned away, his jaw tight. Is this… love? No. No, it can't be. This isn't supposed to happen. I need to stay away from her before I lose control.
The Next Morning
Thalia found him already awake.
"Did you sleep on the couch?" she asked quietly.
He didn't look at her. "Hmm." That was all he said before walking into the bathroom.
From that moment, his coldness began. He avoided her gaze, gave half-hearted answers, and masked his confusion behind a wall of irritation. He ignored her greetings, scrolled through his phone when she spoke, and often left the room without a word.
Still, Thalia tried to be patient. "You don't have to show me around the city anymore," she said forcing a smile. "I know you're busy. Work comes first."
"Yeah, I know," he muttered flatly, his tone clipped.
Every time she tried to talk, he brushed her off. He left for a while and didn't return.
She wondered if she had done something wrong. But rather than press him, she let it go. That day, she dressed, ordered her food, slung her camera over her shoulder, and went out alone.
Later That night
Vicious was at a club the dim lights flashing over expensive suits, smoke, and laughter. Loud music throbbed through the air as he sat at a corner table with other men, mafia affiliates discussing business.
Bar girls hovered nearby, their perfume heavy in the air. One leaned close, whispering something suggestive. Another laughed, touching his arm.
"You should relax, Vicious," one of the men teased. "Spend the night with one of them."
He shook his head. "Not interested."
"Oh, come on," another urged. "Don't tell me you've gone soft."
His jaw tightened. "No," he said coolly. "I just have other things to think about."
But when he excused himself to the bathroom, one of the women followed him. Before he could speak, she pressed her lips to his. He froze then instinctively started to respond until an image of Thalia flashed in his mind.
Her voice. Her eyes. Her laughter.
He pulled away instantly, breathing hard. "Don't," he muttered, pushing her back.
Then he left the club, ignoring the calls behind him. The cool night air hit his face as he walked aimlessly down the street, frustration swirling inside him.
"What's happening to me?" he whispered harshly. "What are you doing to me, Thalia?"
When he reached the hotel, he found her asleep on the couch, a soft blanket around her shoulders. His heart clenched. He stood there silently, staring at her peaceful face.
No, he told himself. I can't. We're too different. I can't fall for her.
But deep down, he already knew.