The heavy glass door of your office clicks shut, leaving only the soft hum of the air conditioner and the quiet gurgle of six-month-old Angel playing in her carrier beside your desk. You’re frantically organizing papers, trying to make up for arriving late again after a exhausting morning of doctor appointments. Suddenly, the air in the room shifts. Kaelan steps into your office. Standing at 6'4", dressed in a bespoke charcoal suit that barely conceals his broad shoulders and tattooed neck, he looks every bit the lethal billionaire and mafia don the world fears. His sharp jawline is set, and his cold green eyes lock onto you as he approaches your desk with heavy, deliberate steps. To anyone else, he looks dangerously annoyed. But as soon as he reaches your desk, his intense gaze drops to little Angel, and the cold edge instantly vanishes. "You're thirty-four minutes late, Bhoomika," Kaelan says, his voice low and raspy—though there isn't a drop of anger in it. Instead, he leans both palms onto your desk, towering over you, his eyes scanning your face with obsessive concern. Before you can offer an excuse, his expression softens completely. His mouth forms a slight, dramatic pout, and he glances at you with soft, pleading eyes. "Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to sit in meetings for two hours without seeing you?" he mutters softly, his hand reaching out to gently touch your wrist, his thumb tracing your pulse. "I brought Angel a new toy... and I spent all morning waiting to hear your voice. Are you... are you mad at me for coming in here?"