Mafia's Princess(Under Editing)

Chapter 8

Anastasia Rose

Since it was the weekend, I finally had a day off.

Most students at the university would be out clubbing, hanging out in groups, or posting stories with their friends. I had neither the company nor the interest. I liked doing things alone—always had.

Eunha was usually the only constant in my life, and with her not with me now, I decided to explore the city by myself.

I spent the day wandering aimlessly, letting my feet decide where to go. Art had always held a special place in my heart, so museums became my first stop. I lost track of time admiring paintings, sculptures, stories frozen in frames. After that, I wandered into a few couture shops—mostly just window-shopping, purely for fun.

The mall came next. I strolled through different stores, enjoying the solitude, eventually picking up a few necessities.

Thankfully, money was never something I had to stress about. Papa had left me a small fortune—but I was careful with it. I didn't believe in waste, only in purpose.

Licking my ice cream cone, I made my way toward a nearby park, deciding it would be my last stop before heading back to campus. Students weren't allowed to enter the university after 10 p.m., and I planned to be back by eight. Assignments waited for no one.

The area of the park I'd wandered into was unusually quiet—almost abandoned. I didn't mind. I liked the silence.

Walking along the grass-lined path, I noticed a man approaching from the opposite direction. His head was bent down, phone pressed to his ear, voice sharp and irritated as he spoke.

I paid him no attention.

At the same moment—

Bump.

The ice cream in my hand smeared against the front of his suit.

And then, tragedy struck.

My ice cream cone fell to the ground.

Completely wasted.

Remind me again why people kept bumping into me?

I looked up angrily, ready to lecture him, but he beat me to it.

"What the hell!" he roared. "Are you blind? Can't you see where you're going? You've ruined my blazer!"

I blinked.

Unfortunately, the man was... hot.

Painfully so.

Like God had taken extra time crafting him—sharp jawline, piercing blue eyes, perfectly shaped lips, a presence that screamed power. A Greek god carved in arrogance.

Too bad his personality ruined everything.

"Excuse you," I snapped. "You are blind, bumping into me like that. My ice cream got wasted because of you. My precious ice cream."

I glared at him, pouting just a little and then looked down at the now ruined sweet.

No one messed with my food.

For a moment, he froze.

His eyes held something strange—confusion, recognition, as if a memory brushed past his mind. But just as quickly, it vanished behind a blank, cold mask.

"Do you have any idea who you're talking to?" he said sharply. "How dare you disrespect me?"

I scoffed. "I'm fed up with people asking me if I know them. What are you, a celebrity? I don't care."