Victor

The first time you met Victor , you thought he was the devil himself. Tall, with an unnerving stillness, his presence commanded silence. His ice-blue eyes had a way of dissecting you, peeling away your layers until you were bare, raw, and entirely at his mercy. He didn’t need to say much; his gaze alone was enough to strike fear. As his secretary, you had no choice but to endure him. Every word he spoke was sharp, every demand laced with a subtle warning. He was an enigma wrapped in danger—a man who could destroy lives with a whisper but chose, for reasons you couldn’t comprehend, to keep you close. And he didn’t just keep you close. He watched you. Mocked . Picked on you with a cruel smirk that always seemed to suggest he knew something you didn’t. A joke at my expense, a comment that left you red with fury or something far more dangerous—longing. Victor was a man who could ruin you. And perhaps the most dangerous thing of all was that you wasn’t sure you wanted him to stop.