“What the hell!” I muttered, pulling over to the side of the road. Fury bubbled inside me as I jumped out, inspecting the damage to my car. The other driver did the same, and I glanced up to meet a pair of cold, piercing icy blue eyes.

The man was tall almost 6’4—towering over me by at least a foot—with a rigid, intimidating stance. His jet-black hair was slicked back, and his expensive suit looked like it had been crafted just for him. He seemed like he was in his mid-twenties, but his presence held a maturity far beyond his age. But it was his face that caught me off guard—chiseled, sharp, and way too gorgeous for someone who looked like they wanted to murder me.

He glared at me with an icy intensity, his jaw clenched and eyes burning with barely restrained anger. “Do you even know how to drive?” he snapped, voice low and menacing.

My anger flared. Who did this arrogant jerk think he was? “Excuse me?” I shot back, squaring my shoulders. “You’re the one who was speeding and trying to cut me off!”

His gaze darkened, and he took a step closer, towering over me. “Watch your mouth,” he growled. “You scratched my precious car.”

I scoffed, crossing my arms defiantly. “Maybe you shouldn’t drive like you own the road. Oh, wait—you probably think you do.”

He narrowed his eyes at me, clearly not used to being spoken to like that. For a moment, it looked like he was going to snap, but instead, he just let out a cold, humorless laugh. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

“And I don’t care,” I shot back, refusing to be intimidated. “Being rich doesn’t give you the right to act like a jerk.”

For a moment, something flickered in his eyes—surprise, maybe? Or was it intrigue? Whatever it was, it vanished as quickly as it came, replaced by that infuriatingly calm, ruthless expression.

He took another step forward, his presence almost suffocating. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood today,” he muttered, as if granting me some kind of mercy.

I wasn’t about to let him get away with this. “Good mood? You almost killed me with your reckless driving! You’re paying for the damage.”

His lips curled into a wicked smirk, one that made my blood boil. “You think I’m paying for your incompetence?”

I crossed my arms tighter, refusing to back down. “Your car hit mine, mister. You’re the one at fault. I’m not leaving until you agree to compensate me.”

He raised a brow, clearly not used to being challenged. “You really don’t know when to keep your mouth shut.”

“And you don’t know how to own up to your mistakes,” I retorted, refusing to look away from his piercing gaze.

He let out a low chuckle, almost mocking. “Fine. Send me the bill.” He pulled out a sleek black business card from his pocket and handed it to me, his fingers brushing mine for a split second—just enough to send a strange jolt through my hand.

I snatched the card from him, glaring at the embossed name—Viktor Schwarz The name sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place it.

Before I could respond, he gave me one last icy look and walked back to his car without another word. The engine roared to life, and within seconds, he was gone—leaving me standing on the side of the road, equal parts furious and confused.

I glanced down at the card again, my mind replaying the encounter. Who the hell did he think he was? Sure, he looked like he’d walked straight out of a mafia movie, but that didn’t give him the right to act like he owned the world.

Sliding back into my car, I let out a shaky breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions. One thing was clear—*that man was trouble.*

Today was one of those rare days when I was actually in a good mood. Elena’s graduation ceremony had gone smoothly, and seeing her proud smile had made enduring the tedious speeches worth it. A faint smirk tugged at my lips as I thought about how she’d practically jumped on me when I handed her the keys to her new car—a little graduation gift, Well, my sister deserves it she nailed in her graduation. The black Maserati purred beneath my hands, gliding down the empty street like a predator on the prowl. I loosened my tie and relaxed into the leather seat of my Maserati when My phone vibrated, and I glanced at the screen—Max's name flashing across it, my right hand men as well as my bratty best friend. I hit the speaker button, keeping my eyes on the road.

"Did you take care of the shipment?" I asked, voice cold and businesslike.

"Yeah, all clear. No interruptions. Just like you wanted," Max replied casually.

"Good. Make sure there’s no trail. I don’t want anyone getting curious."

Before he could respond, a flash of red caught my eye just as a car swerved into my lane. I gritted my teeth, jerking the wheel to avoid a collision, but it wasn’t enough, it was too late. The sickening scrape of metal against metal echoed in the air with a loud thud. The cars scraped against each other with a harsh screech of metal.

My jaw tightened as I slammed on the brakes, forcing the car to a stop. Who the hell had the audacity to hit my car? Fury simmered under my skin as I threw the door open.

"Shit," I muttered.

Max's voice crackled through the phone. "You good, boss?"

"Handle it," I snapped before hanging up.

My good mood shattered like glass. Fury ignited me, stepped out to assess the damage. The other driver was already out, a woman inspecting her own car—a bright sedan with a fresh scratch down the side.

She wasn’t tall—barely reached my shoulder seems 5’5—but there was something about the way she squared her shoulders that made her seem taller. Her long, dark hair cascaded down her back in loose waves, glinting under the sunlight

"What the hell!” she muttered I could see the way her chest rose and fell, breaths quick and shallow—anger or adrenaline, I couldn’t tell.

When she finally turned around, I felt a momentary hitch in my thoughts. She had a heart-shaped face framed by those wild, dark curls, her skin a warm, sun-kissed shade that complemented her fiery expression. Her full lips were pressed into an irritated pout, and her brown eyes practically shot sparks at me.

She was beautiful—annoyingly so. And the fact that she was standing there like she hadn’t just scratched my car only made my anger spike.

Her gaze finally landed on me, and I saw the way her eyes widened for just a split second before narrowing in challenge. I could feel my own temper flaring up, but there was something strangely captivating about the way she stood her ground.

“Do you even know how to drive?” I snapped, my voice low and menacing

“Excuse me?” she shot back, squaring her shoulders. “You’re the one who was speeding and trying to cut me off!”

The audacity. No one spoke to me like that—no one dared. I clenched my jaw and took a step closer, towering over her, but she didn’t back down. Instead, she crossed her arms defiantly, practically daring me to push further. barely reigning in the urge to snap back. “Watch your mouth,” I growled. “You scratched my precious car.”

she scoffed, crossing her arms defiantly. “Maybe you shouldn’t drive like you own the road. Oh, wait—you probably think you do.”

I almost laughed at her nerve. My usual intimidation tactics clearly had no effect on her. Most people would be cowering by now, but this woman just kept pushing. For a moment, I caught myself almost admiring her fire. Almost.

"You have no idea who you’re dealing with," I warned, voice colder than ice.

“And I don’t care,” she shot back, refusing to be intimidated. “Being rich doesn’t give you the right to act like a jerk.”

Something flickered in my chest—something foreign and irritating. Intrigue. Amusement. I crushed it immediately, not willing to let my curiosity show.

I took another step forward, “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood today,” i muttered. “Good mood? You almost killed me with your reckless driving! You’re paying for the damage.”

My lips curled into a wicked smirk. “You think I’m paying for your incompetence?”

she crossed my arms tighter, refusing to back down. “Your car hit mine, mister. You’re the one at fault. I’m not leaving until you agree to compensate me.”

I raised a brow, clearly not used to being challenged. “You really don’t know when to keep your mouth shut.”

“And you don’t know how to own up to your mistakes,” she retorted, refusing to look away from my piercing gaze.

I let out a low chuckle, almost mocking. “Fine. Send me the bill.” i pulled out a sleek black business card from my pocket and handed it to her, my fingers brushing against her for a split second—just enough to send a strange jolt through my hand.

A wicked smirk curved my lips as I glanced at her, watching the way she bit her lower lip—probably out of frustration. It only served to draw more of my attention to her mouth, and I forced myself to focus on the issue at hand.

Without another word, I walked back to my car, my mind a tangled mess of anger, intrigue, and something else I didn’t want to acknowledge. This reckless, stubborn woman had no idea what kind of trouble she’d just stumbled into.

****

So… Viktor Schwarz's “precious” car got a scratch.

Avira's patience? More like totalled.

What happens when the mafia king meets a firecracker in traffic?

Spoiler: He gave her his business card instead of a bullet.

Progress? 😏

Let’s just say…

She hit his car,

but he’s about to crash into her life.

Buckle up, Schwarzlings.

Next chapter, we’re going full speed into chaos, charm, and possibly an accidental coffee date (or death threat—depends on Viktor’s mood).

#TeamAvira or #TeamViktor?

Or are y’all just here for the sparks and the snark? 😈