Beneath the Suit Love was never part of the plan. Mikhail Rios built an empire from shadows, ruthless, untouchable, and always in control. But everything changes when he meets Sophie. A warm, witty coffee shop owner with eyes like truth and a smile that makes him forget who he is. She's the one thing he can't predict. The one woman who sees beyond the tailored suit and cold reputation. And the only person with a secret that could destroy them both. Because Sophie isn't just an ordinary girl. She's a former intelligence agent who was sent to watch him... until she fell for the man behind the mask. As bullets fly and past collide, trust becomes the most dangerous game. Can love survive the lies they told to each other and themselves? Beneath the Suit is a steamy, high-stakes romance about two broken souls who risk everything for love in a world built to tear them apart...
Chapter 1 The Man
Everyone in the city knew Mikhail Rios as "The Boss". Not just any boss, he was the ruthless head of the Rios Syndicate, a powerful and feared organization cloaked in shadows and whispered legends. His name carried weight in boardrooms, back alleys, and underground circles. He wore custom-tailored suits like armor, spoke with calculated precision, and lived in a penthouse high enough to forget the world below.
He was as handsome as he was ruthless, creating fear in his every wake.
Until he met her.
It started with a broken coffee machine.
Mikhail had stormed into the tiny café on the corner of 7th and Crest, irritation simmering just beneath his sharp exterior. His usual spot uptown had closed unexpectedly, and caffeine deprivation was not something he tolerated well.
Behind the counter stood a girl with a messy bun, sleeves rolled up, and flour dust on her cheeks. Her name tag read "Sophie," and she smiled at him like she hadn't a clue who he was.
"Sorry, we're out of cold brew. You'll have to settle for a regular," she said, cheerfully unaware of the stormy man glaring at the menu.
Mikhail blinked. "Settle?" He said the word like it was foreign.
"Yes," Sophie chirped. "It builds character."
He almost walked out. Almost. But something in her tone, light, unafraid, stubborn, intrigued him. He stayed.
And then he came back. The next day. Then the next.
At first, it was just the coffee. Then it was the way she hummed to old jazz records behind the counter.
The way she teased him gently, calling him "Mr. Serious" with a wink. The way she treated everyone like a friend, no matter their shoes or suits.
Sophie had no idea who he was. Not really. And Mikhail found himself craving her world-one where his name didn't make people flinch.
She asked questions. Simple ones. Like what made him smile. What books he liked. What scared him.
No one had ever dared ask him that.
"I don't get involved with dangerous men," she said one evening, wiping down the counter while Mikhail nursed his fourth espresso.
"I could walk away," he offered, voice soft, eyes locked on hers.
"Could you?" she asked, raising a brow.
He didn't answer.
Weeks turned to months. He started showing up with flour on his sleeves instead of blood. He helped her close up the shop. Listened to her dreams. Laughed and laughed for the first time in years.
But secrets don't stay buried forever.