INT. SNOWFLAKE'S BATHROOM – MORNING
Steam rises around her as Snowflake stands under the warm spray, humming softly to her favorite song — "Blue Eyes."
She's completely relaxed, lost in the music, unaware of the digital ripple unfolding outside.
INT. SNOWFLAKE'S PHONE – LIVING ROOM (FLASH TO SCREEN)
A notification quietly pings on her phone resting on the dresser — a new friend/follow/request.
The screen shows the Mafia Boss's name and profile picture.
INT. BATHROOM – CONTINUOUS
Still humming, Snowflake reaches for the shampoo — blissfully unaware that the man who's been circling her world just extended a silent invitation to step closer.
INT. SNOWFLAKE'S KITCHEN – MORNING
Snowflake moves around her cozy kitchen, preparing breakfast — the scent of coffee brewing, toast popping up.
She's still humming "Blue Eyes," lost in her own world, completely unaware of the notification blinking quietly on her phone.
Her phone sits on the counter, screen locked.
INT. MAFIA BOSS'S STUDY – MORNING
Meanwhile, the Mafia Boss sits rigidly in his chair, eyes flicking anxiously between his phone and the window.
Every few seconds, he unlocks the screen to check if she's accepted the request.
His jaw tightens, fingers tapping the desk.
MAFIA BOSS
(under his breath)
Come on... don't keep me waiting.
INT. SNOWFLAKE'S KITCHEN – MORNING
Snowflake snaps a quick photo of her simple breakfast plate — toast, coffee, and the medicine next to it.
She types out a caption with a sly smile:
"Someone out there was worried."
She posts it, unaware that the message will land right where it's meant to.
INT. MAFIA BOSS'S STUDY – CONTINUOUS
The boss's phone buzzes with a notification — Snowflake's new post.
He opens it, eyes scanning the words, a rare softness washing over his intense gaze.
He leans back, allowing himself a brief, almost shy smile.
MAFIA BOSS
(softly)
Yeah, I was.
INT. SNOWFLAKE'S KITCHEN – MOMENTS LATER
Snowflake's phone buzzes again. She glances down, unlocking it this time.
Her eyes widen slightly as she sees the new friend/follow/request — the Mafia Boss's profile staring back at her.
Her heart skips a beat. She taps on his profile, scrolling through carefully curated photos that hint at power and mystery.
She exhales slowly, a mix of curiosity and caution in her gaze.
SNOWFLAKE
(softly)
So, you're really here...
Her fingers hover over the "Accept" button.
Her mind races — questions, doubts, but also a spark of something else.
She bites her lip, then takes a deep breath.
Slowly, deliberately, she taps "Accept."
The screen changes — their connection is made.
She exhales, a mix of relief and nervous excitement.
SNOWFLAKE
(whispering)
Alright… let's see where this goes.
INT. SNOWFLAKE'S KITCHEN – MOMENTS AFTER ACCEPTING
Snowflake's phone buzzes instantly.
She picks it up and sees a new message from the Mafia Boss:
MAFIA BOSS:
Hii
How's your wrist?
She smiles softly, fingers trembling just a little as she types back:
SNOWFLAKE:
It's better, thanks. Still aches a bit though.
Her heart races, excitement and nervousness swirling together.
Snowflake's phone buzzes again almost immediately.
MAFIA BOSS:
Good. You need to rest it more. No running in heels for a while.
She chuckles softly, feeling his protective tone.
SNOWFLAKE:
I'll try. But no promises—heels are my thing.
MAFIA BOSS:
(typing...)
Then I guess I'll have to keep you off the streets. Sounds like a full-time job.
Snowflake smiles wider, a warmth spreading through her.
SNOWFLAKE:
Sounds like a dangerous job.
MAFIA BOSS:
The most dangerous. But I'm good at it.
SNOWFLAKE:
Dangerous, huh? Sounds like you're used to handling trouble.
MAFIA BOSS:
Trouble follows me around. But trouble with you? That's a whole different game.
SNOWFLAKE:
A game I'm willing to play… if the stakes are high enough.
MAFIA BOSS:
Careful, Snowflake. I don't do half-measures.
SNOWFLAKE:
Good. Neither do I.
The conversation lingers in the air, a silent promise of what's to come.
MAFIA BOSS:
You should take the day off. Rest that wrist properly.
SNOWFLAKE:
I wish I could… work's piling up.
MAFIA BOSS:
No work is worth your health.
He pauses, then adds with a slight smile in his words:
MAFIA BOSS:
And eat something better than that breakfast. At least order something good.
SNOWFLAKE:
(laughs)
You sound like my personal bodyguard.
MAFIA BOSS:
Maybe I am. And I'm very good at my job.
SNOWFLAKE:
I appreciate the concern... but I'm not that easy to boss around.
MAFIA BOSS:
(smiling through text)
Good. I like a challenge.
SNOWFLAKE:
Just don't be surprised if I end up ordering pizza instead of something healthy.
MAFIA BOSS:
I'll hold you to that. But if you want, I can send something better your way.
Snowflake pauses, fingers hovering over the keyboard, then smiles softly.
SNOWFLAKE:
Maybe... surprise me.
Snowflake is still sitting by her kitchen table, phone in hand, the chat open.
Suddenly, the doorbell rings.
Her heart skips a beat. She wasn't expecting anyone.
She cautiously gets up and walks to the door, peeking through the peephole.
There he is — the Mafia Boss, standing tall and composed, dressed impeccably, with a calm but intense gaze.
She blinks, stunned.
SNOWFLAKE
(softly, to herself)
How does he even find me?
Snowflake opens the door, surprised but curious.
MAFIA BOSS
(steely, yet calm)
I'm here to make sure you're taken care of. Mind if my men bring in some supplies?
Before she can answer, two sturdy guards enter with crates and bags.
They start unloading fresh fruits, juices, and, of course, an impressive stash of chocolates.
Her fridge is soon overflowing with the unexpected bounty.
INT. SNOWFLAKE'S LIVING ROOM – MOMENTS LATER
Snowflake peeks out cautiously from behind the sheer curtains, wide-eyed and overwhelmed.
SNOWFLAKE
(whispering to herself)
Is this a dream... or a nightmare?
The boss senses movement from the corner of his eye.
He steps closer to the sheer curtains, his voice calm but teasing.
MAFIA BOSS
You don't have to hide, Snowflake. I'm not going anywhere.
He gently pulls the curtain aside, revealing her flushed, nervous face.
MAFIA BOSS
Relax... I'm here to protect you, not scare you.
She exhales slowly, heart pounding, caught between fear and something deeper.
The Mafia Boss stands so close that he can hear her heartbeat quicken.
His eyes soften, hesitation flickering across his usually hard expression.
Slowly, carefully, he reaches out and brushes his fingers against her folded hands.
The touch is gentle, almost reverent, as if he's afraid to break the fragile moment.
MAFIA BOSS
(softly)
You don't have to be afraid… I'm right here.
Snowflake's breath catches, the tension melting into something unspoken but deeply felt.
Snowflake's voice barely rises above a whisper, so soft it feels like a secret shared only between them.
SNOWFLAKE
Hm...
The Mafia Boss's cheeks flush a deep shade of red, his usual cold facade melting away for just a moment.
He swallows hard, trying to steady himself, caught off guard by how much that simple sound affects him.
Snowflake slowly and almost shyly moves her hand closer toward his.
The Mafia Boss's cheeks darken further as he notices her trust.
Without hesitation now, he gently wraps his fingers around hers, holding her hand like something precious and fragile.
Their eyes lock — a silent promise lingering between them.
Snowflake stands behind the sheer curtains, her hand gently held by the Mafia Boss standing just on the other side.
They're close enough to feel each other's warmth, their breaths mingling faintly through the fabric.
Neither speaks, their eyes locked in silent understanding.
Around them, helpers move swiftly, unpacking fruits, juices, and chocolates, filling the apartment with life.
The outside noise contrasts sharply with the stillness between them — a bubble of calm in the storm.
Snowflake whispers softly through the curtains, her voice barely audible but filled with genuine gratitude.
SNOWFLAKE
Thank you...
At once, the helpers pause their work, turn around, and bow respectfully to her.
The Mafia Boss watches this with a satisfied smile, pride shining in his eyes.
MAFIA BOSS
(quietly, to himself)
She deserves nothing less.
The helpers finish arranging the last of the groceries.
Adam pulls out a crisp piece of paper and a pen.
He writes carefully, his handwriting neat and deliberate.
First, his personal number — a number only a few of his closest ever get.
Then, beneath it, he pens his name with a slight flourish:
Adam Smith
He folds the paper gently and steps toward Snowflake, holding it out with a quiet confidence.
ADAM
If you ever need anything... you know where to find me.
Snowflake's eyes widen slightly as she takes the folded paper.
Her fingers tremble just a little as she unfolds it.
Reading the number and the name "Adam Smith," a mixture of surprise and something softer — maybe hope — washes over her face.
She looks up to meet his gaze, her voice barely above a whisper.
SNOWFLAKE
Thank you, Adam… I won't forget this.
A shy smile tugs at the corners of her lips.
Adam's lips curl into a rare, bright smile — warm and genuine.
The sudden change surprises even the helpers, who pause their work and glance at him with newfound respect and awe.
Snowflake feels the warmth of that smile like a gentle promise, her heart skipping a beat.
Adam smiles warmly, then gently takes Snowflake's soft, small hands in his.
ADAM
Goodbye, Snowflake. Take care of yourself.
Snowflake returns the gesture, holding his hand softly as a silent "bye."
Adam's cheeks flush a deep red, surprised by the simple, sweet touch.
He glances down at their joined hands, then back up — catching her eyes.
Snowflake notices his blush and smiles faintly, a spark of something unspoken passing between them.
Snowflake watches Adam's sleek black car fade into the night as the door closes.
Her fingers still tingling from the warmth of his hand, she leans against the doorframe, a soft smile playing on her lips.
Her mind drifts to the mysterious man — strong, protective, yet surprisingly gentle.
Unknown to her, Adam's eyes linger on her silhouette from the rearview mirror, a promise of more to come.
INT. SNOWFLAKE'S APARTMENT – MORNING
Snowflake wakes up, gently touches her wrist — the pain is gone, but a faint bruise remains.
She pours herself a glass of fresh juice, prepares a plate with a fluffy omelette and a shiny red apple.
Setting it all neatly on the table, she snaps a quick photo and posts it on social media with a cheeky caption:
"Starting my day with a healthy meal as advised… or should I say, as ordered
She smiles softly, the memory of last night lingering like a sweet secret.
Snowflake's phone buzzes almost immediately.
It's a message from Adam:
ADAM:
Looks perfect. Healthy and strong — just like you.
She reads it, cheeks warming at his words.
Without thinking, she types back with a playful grin:
SNOWFLAKE:
Careful, or I'll start thinking you're my personal chef now.
Snowflake types slowly, her fingers hovering over the keyboard before sending the message:
SNOWFLAKE:
Thank you for everything, Adam.
She sets the phone down, feeling a quiet warmth spread inside her chest.
INT. ADAM'S OFFICE – DAY
Adam reads Snowflake's message, the heart emoji lighting up his screen.
For a moment, he skips a beat — his usual calm shaken.
He stands up from his chair, pacing slowly, unable to sit still.
His fingers tremble slightly as he types back:
ADAM:
You don't have to thank me… Just promise me you'll stay safe, Snowflake.
Adam's eyes darken with fury as he stares at his phone.
He clenches his fists tightly on the desk, jaw clenched.
"I need to see her. Now."
But a cold realization hits — he can't rush over without exposing himself or putting her in more danger.
Frustration boils beneath his calm exterior, leaving him restless and powerless.
Adam's phone buzzes again.
He sees Snowflake's message:
SNOWFLAKE:
"Whenever you are free, let me know. This time I'll treat you to coffee or whatever you like... Your fav place, your time ☺️"
A slow smile spreads across Adam's face, the tension easing just a bit.
He quickly types back, determination shining in his eyes:
ADAM:
Tonight. Be ready.
Snowflake reads Adam's message and laughs softly.
She types back with a pair of laughing emojis:
SNOWFLAKE:
Ok.
Adam types:
ADAM:
I'll pick you up from your place. Send me your address.
She replies with a warm, reassuring tone:
SNOWFLAKE:
I'll come... you need not worry ☀
INT. ADAM'S OFFICE – SAME TIME
Adam stares at her message, exhaling slowly. A soft smile tugs at his lips.
He types:
ADAM:
You really think I'll let you travel alone tonight?
Snowflake... just wait for me.
Adam stares at her last message, defeated but smiling. He leans back in his chair, typing slowly with a sigh:
ADAM:
As you wish, Snowflake ❄
But I'll be waiting… don't be late.
INT. SNOWFLAKE'S ROOM – SAME TIME
She reads the message, her lips curve into a soft smile, cheeks glowing.
She whispers to herself:
"Snowflake... I like how he says that."
She checks her phone. A message from Adam lights up the screen:
ADAM:
Here's the location. I hope it's good enough.
A link opens to La Vie Étoilée — a Michelin-starred restaurant, famously hard to get into.
Her eyes widen. Mouth parted. Heart racing.
SNOWFLAKE (whispers):
"No way… this is it. This is the place."
She stands before her mirror, slipping into her black shimmer slit-cut bodycon dress. Her curls fall over her shoulders like soft waves of velvet. She twirls once, then smiles, nervous and glowing.
INT. ADAM'S CAR – NIGHT
Adam, in a jet-black suit with a dark maroon pocket square, waits outside the restaurant. He checks his watch, then the door. The staff holds it open, already prepared.
PARTNER (teasing):
"You booked the whole place for her, didn't you?"
ADAM (softly, smirking):
"She's worth it."