Chapter two

Tristan pov

Inside Le Clair de Lune,my irritation simmered as I sat alone in the dimly light corner of the restaurant . The soft glow of the chandeliers flickered above , casting shadows on the marble floor . The irritation bubbled up. Ever since I stepped through the door, I noticed the waitresses had been stealing glances my way. Didn't they have better things to do?

They tried to catch my eye, but one look from my cold stare, my face like a stone—sent them scurrying , fear flickered in their eyes. Just what I wanted.

As a mafia leader, and I've been trained to show no mercy, ruthless and cold .  I knew how to command respect. I had no room for softness. Emotion? That was a foreign concept, one I had long buried beneath layers of ice .

For me Women? I see them as nothing more than objects for my pleasure, easily discarded when no longer needed . I've never bothered with emotional connections , as they were a distraction I couldn't afford . It's all physical for me. Love held no appeal

I thrive on fear, relished by the sight of my victims trembling in fear and pleading for their lives. Their desperate pleas? The power to determine their fate rested with me, in my hands .They fueled me.

As for women? women were just tools. Tools that could be discarded at will. And there is no doubt about that .

My phone buzzed on the table . It was Elijah, my trusted right hand guy. I answered, irritation boiling over. "What's wrong?"

He replied with grim news. "Petrov's gone . He run off with the money and the drugs ."

Anger surged through me. how dare him just vanish! "Where is he now?" I demanded.

"We can't track his location," Elijah said, his voice steady but unhelpful.

"Are you really this dumb? You couldn't manage such a simple task?" I stood up abruptly, storming out of the restaurant, the phone still pressed to my ear. "Find any of his relatives. How dare he vanish with my money or stash?"

Lost in my call, I bumped into someone. A girl. I glared at her, my face hard as stone and cold. But, something shifted in me, something I wasn't ready to face.

Normally, I would've dragged her to the basement for crossing my path. Instead, I just stood there, dumbfounded. She muttered apologies, handing me my phone, but I didn't react.

I watched as she slipped the phone into my hand and rushed away. As soon as she was gone, clarity returned. I shook off the strange feelings and continued on my path to the basement.

The basement- an underground lair where fear reigned supreme. I stepped into the basement. The air crackled with tension. Fear gripped everyone. It's a rush to see that; it keeps them in line.  Everyone scrambled to focus on their own tasks, eyes downcast, avoiding my gaze.

Then, Elijah approached. I couldn't hold back my anger. "How could you let him slip away with the drugs and cash? Have you found any of his relatives?"

"Not yet," he said. "We're on it."

"I'm really disappointed, Elijah."

His eyes dropped. "I'm sorry, Tristan. I promise we'll get him soon."

"That better happen. "I'm letting this slide because it's you. Don't mess up again." I warned , my tone icy .

Elijah, my trusted right-hand man . We are like brothers. We grew up together and now he works for me , understood my zero-tolerance for mistakes.. Every job needs to run smoothly.

He nodded, "Yes, boss," and walked away.

I retreated to my office, sank into my office chair, decided to drown myself in work. But her face kept creeping into my mind. It boiled my blood. I shot up from my seat, Restlessness consumed me as I scanned the room, searching for someone to vent my irritation on. Who could I unleash on? I needed to distract myself.

How could I waste time thinking about a girl?

           ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that evening, I stepped into my quiet home. Silence enveloped me , Just how I like it. My parents and siblings were away, and the maids had retreated to their quarters. They only ventured into the main house for chores , they dare not come without reasons .

I dragged my tired self to my room. Thank goodness, my mom wasn't here. A rare chance to relax. No one was around to nag me about finding a wife, at least for a bit. . My mother didn't seem to grasp that I was a loveless guy. She really knows how to get under my skin.

I unbuttoned my shirt, letting it fall to the floor. My trousers followed suit. A hot shower was next. The steam wrapped around me like a comforting hug. After drying off, I threw on some shorts and planned to dive into work before hitting the bed.

Just then, my phone rang. It was Isaac, my brother. I answered it. "We've arrived safely," he said.

Great , send my regards to everyone, but then I heard my mother's voice cutting through the conversation .

"Is that Tristan? Hand me the phone!"

Once she had it, she wasted no time. "Tristan, I don't want to come home to see that you still haven't brought a girl to show me as your girlfriend."

My irritation flared. Seriously? This again? I sent my regards to others and hung up.

Annoyed, I could still hear her voice echoed in the background, "Tristan, don't you dare hang up on me!" What a whirlwind.

I dropped my phone in frustration. My mom just doesn't get it. Why can't she stop pushing the marriage thing? Every time brings home a potential wife, it drives me nuts. Can't she see I'm not ready for that? Love? Commitment? Not on my radar right now.

I needed a distraction. So, I buried myself in work. It was easier than dealing with her expectations or the unsettling memory of the girl who had dared to cross his path . My tasks absorbed my mind, allowing me to vent my frustration and anger without saying a word.