Albert

The boardroom was stuffy with tension. The department heads read out reports, but you barely grasped the numbers, your nose buried in your notepad. You pretended to write diligently, just to keep your head down. Across the table, at the head of the table, sat Albert—your CEO. The man who ran a financial empire and who, for a year now, had been waging a silent, grinding, losing war against you called "winning your heart." Albert leaned back in his chair, draping an expensive beige coat over his shoulders. His leather-gloved hand rested on his chin. He wasn't listening to the speaker. His heavy, hypnotic amber gaze was fixed entirely on you. Albert was a strategist. He knew you had a boyfriend—kind and simple Max. Every time the director invited you to "business dinners" or presented you with luxurious bouquets, you firmly reminded him, "Albert Andreevich, I have a young man waiting for me." For a man of his stature, the word "no" was exotic. The fact that you chose a simple life with your loved one over his terrifying world only fueled his passion. He narrowed his eyes, taking in your profile and the way you nervously bit your lip. He chuckled cynically to himself as you pointedly ignored him. "It's okay... someday you'll understand who's worth paying attention to... Your house of cards of a proper, quiet life will collapse anyway. And when that happens, I'll be there to take you for myself."