Cinnamon breathe.

Alana made her way down to the basement parking lot, her eyes darting around anxiously, fearful that Connor might be trailing her. As soon as the realization dawned upon her that he had left without a trace, she couldn't help but chuckle at her own naivety. It was absurd of her to even entertain such a heinous thought.

Beside him sat the very woman he had abandoned her for a year prior.

She might be a woman of great worth, surpassing even her own sense of dignity and self-esteem. Exhausted and yearning for the comfort of her bed, she stepped out of the car. As she stood before the elevator's closed doors, she found herself repeatedly yawning and stretching, her thoughts drifting to a multitude of memories that had long since slipped her mind.

The sound of the elevator's ding echoed through the hallway, signaling the arrival of its passengers. The metal doors slid open with a soft hiss, but despite the commotion, she remained rooted to the spot, lost in the depths of her own contemplations. She stood there, lost in thought, recalling the bitter taste of humiliation and the sting of gossip that surrounded her after enduring abandonment. As soon as she arrived in the capital, a deluge of messages inundated her phones, all inquiring about the matter at hand.

Overwhelmed by the influx, she promptly changed her phone number. In addition, she has taken the drastic step of erasing her social media presence and has since withdrawn from the external realm of her existence.

She spent her time overworking herself to the extent that she was constantly tired and asleep. Despite her best efforts, her schedule remained rigid and unyielding, leaving little to no space for a fulfilling social life. She was aware that forging a path of self-destruction was the sole means by which she could banish the memories and find solace. Perhaps it was merely a fleeting solution to her predicament.

As she gazed upon the wall, her thoughts were interrupted by the sudden appearance of a shadowy figure. The sound of snapping fingers echoed in her ears, causing her to hesitate before taking another step. Despite her inner turmoil, she managed to resist the urge to plunge deeper into the river's depths. Suddenly, a jolt on her shoulder snapped her back to reality, causing her to jolt upright from her trance-like state.

The woman was addressed with a sudden and forceful exclamation. As her gaze met Xavier's, he grasped her shoulder, stilling the tremble that had overtaken her.

"Woman!" he said.

As Alana glanced towards the elevator, ascending once more, he relinquished his grasp.

After rubbing her face, a yawn escaped her lips. She inadvertently disregarded Xavier and proceeded to take a step forward to press the button once more. Yet again, she appeared to be adrift in her own musings.

Xavier followed her, his voice echoing through the empty space as he called out to her once more.

The name echoed through the room, drawing everyone's attention to its source. With a sudden jerk, he forcefully pulled her arm to capture her focus.

"oh, Hi" With a forced smile, she apologized, suddenly aware of his presence as she drifted down memory lane.

He searched for the answer in her reactions, asking, "What is wrong with you?"

He couldn't help but wonder why she seemed to wear her emotions so openly, like an open book with a swirling concoction of feelings just beneath the surface.

"I'm feeling a bit tired, but nothing to worry about. Will you be going to work today? "

As she posed the question, a sudden realization dawned upon her - he was not only a lord, but also the head of the notorious mafia. Thus, she repeats yet another frivolous inquiry.

With measured steps, she drew nearer to him, her gaze scanning the surroundings. Then, with the utmost care, she crept up to his ear and breathed her words in a hushed whisper.

"Will you be attending that 'workplace?' ".

In a hushed tone, she murmured, "works of the mafia?"

Xavier recoils in surprise as the warmth of her cinnamon-scented breath brushes against his ear, causing an unexpected shiver to run down his spine. He quickly moves away from her, his expression betraying his shock.

The inquisitive nature of his queries did not leave him dumbfounded. Rather, it was the profound impact of her hushed response that left him utterly stunned.

A flush of crimson crept up his cheeks, and a subtle heat emanated from the apex of his ear, sending a pleasant shiver down his neck.

With a subtle cough, he tried to suppress the unwelcome emotions that had been stirred up by the presence of this vexing woman.

Alana, however, misinterpreted his reaction to her inquiries and instinctively reached out to grasp his arm as a means of expressing regret.

"I'm sorry for my questioning."

Xavier was taken aback as he realized that she was holding onto him, a complete stranger,  a man's arm like that like a common sight. With a subtle gesture, he withdrew his arm from her touch, all the while maintaining his gaze upon her. She appeared perplexed by his response.

He cleared his throat once more, taking a couple of paces away from her in an effort to regain his composure. Despite the numerous women who had shown interest in him, it was this particular woman who managed to get under his skin. Her lack of restraint when it came to food and incessant chatter proved to be particularly irksome. Alana's mouth hung open in disbelief as she let out a loud scoff, observing his reactions.

"I am heading towards the office," he thought to himself, pausing for a moment.

"But does she really need to know that?" As Xavier pondered silently, his thoughts raced through his mind.

Alana pivoted away from him, her gaze fixed on the elevator as she stood poised to descend.

Xavier, impatient and unwilling to linger, strode purposefully towards his designated parking spot and slid into the driver's seat of his sleek SLR McLaren v10 Mercedes-Benz before driving away.

The sensation is one he despises, for it has plagued him since the moment he laid eyes on her during the cruise incident. Her very essence exudes a comforting warmth that envelops him entirely, leaving him with a sense of tenderness that he cannot shake. Although he didn't harbor any romantic feelings towards her, he found himself relishing in her company during their recent encounter. They spent the day conversing about a myriad of topics, thoroughly enjoying each other's presence. He acknowledged her sharp sense of humor and quick wit, noting that she never seems to put on airs around him. As a result, she is unreserved in her words and actions towards him.

Last night, he exhibited impulsive behavior by openly slicing through Agu's hand. However, this act was not one of aggression but rather a display of his deep appreciation towards her for saving his life.

The debt he owed her was no small matter - it was his very life. Tyson's words were clear: without proper disinfection and bullet removal, the risk of losing his legs was significant. Grateful for her presence, he returned in search of her, but alas, his efforts were in vain. There is a distinct lack of information regarding the identity of Dorothy Wyatt, with the only known individual being an elderly woman hailing from the city of Lackland.

As he pulled into the company parking lot, he was abruptly jolted from his thoughts. In just a matter of days, Dawn will be taking a well-deserved leave, but upon his return, he will be met with a daunting pile of pressing matters that require his attention.

As he stepped into his office, he began his daily routine of meticulously sifting through the pile of documents that awaited his signature. Lou and Rio strode into the office in perfect synchrony, their minds already focused on the task at hand: planning for his imminent departure from the city this coming weekend.