The story follows the unexpected encounter between Mr. Kim Taehyung, the world's biggest business tycoon also the underworld mafia king, and Sana, a pious and modest girl devoted to her faith. Initially, Taehyung didn't plan to fall in love with her...
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The VIP lounge was almost empty now, its once-bustling atmosphere reduced to soft murmurs and the faint clinking of glasses as the staff cleaned up. Sana sat on the plush leather couch, her posture perfect despite the exhaustion pulling at her. Her fingers fidgeted with the strap of her designer clutch as her eyes darted to her watch again. "Raza is late... again," she thought, letting out a quiet sigh.
Mahir was on his way out, his jacket slung casually over his shoulder, tie loosened just enough to give him that effortless charm he was known for. As he reached the exit, his eyes caught her sitting alone. His steps slowed, almost instinctively.
There she was, Sana Sulthana—poised as ever, but there was something about the way she kept glancing at her watch that tugged at him. He didn’t understand it. He didn’t want to understand it. But his feet betrayed him, steering him toward her before his mind could object.
“Miss Sulthana,” he called out, his voice smooth and confident, yet with a hint of curiosity. “Waiting for someone?”
Sana looked up, startled for a brief moment before composing herself. “Uh, yeah, Raza. My assistant. He’s on his way.”
Mahir nodded, though something flickered in his eyes at the mention of another man’s name. The name hit Mahir like a punch to the gut. A male assistant. Of course. His jaw tightened slightly, but he masked it with a polite smile. Jealousy wasn’t an emotion he welcomed, but here it was, rearing its head like an uninvited guest.
He tucked his hands into his pockets, keeping his expression neutral. “Raza, huh? Sounds like a reliable guy.”
“He is,” Sana replied, sensing a hint of something in his tone but choosing to ignore it. “He’s never late, though. It’s unusual.”
“Well,” Mahir said, tilting his head slightly, his lips curling into a faint smirk, “if he’s making you wait, maybe he’s not as reliable as you think.”
Sana raised an eyebrow at him, unsure whether to take that as a joke or a subtle jab. Before she could respond, he continued, his tone casual but firm.
“Look, we’re going to the same place, the same building. There’s no point in you waiting here when I can drop you off. Save your assistant the trouble.”
Her heart skipped for a moment. She wanted to say yes—badly—but she hesitated. “That’s kind of you, but I wouldn’t want to trouble you.”
“Trouble?” he echoed, a soft laugh escaping his lips. “Miss Sulthana, if driving for ten minutes in a luxury car counts as trouble, I think I need to reconsider my standards.”
