The Ruthless Mafia King

Night fell heavy over the city, casting long shadows across the penthouse walls. Rain tapped gently against the windows, but inside, the tension was louder than thunder.

Emilia stood near the fireplace, arms wrapped around herself, the weight of everything pressing down on her: her name, her past, the fire in Alessandro's eyes that never seemed to leave her alone.

He watched her from across the room, his glass of whiskey untouched.

"You can't keep pretending this is just protection," she said, voice soft but sharp.

"I'm not pretending," he replied. "But protection comes with… complications."

She turned, eyes locking with his. "Is that what this is? Complication?"

He set the glass down, slow and deliberate.

"This is a war I never meant to start," he said. "And you… you were the one thing I didn't see coming."

They stood there, the silence thick and hot, pulling them together like gravity.

And then—

He crossed the space between them in one step.

No words. No warnings.

His hands framed her face, and his mouth crashed into hers like a storm breaking open.

Emilia gasped, but her body moved before her mind could catch up. She kissed him back — desperate, aching, angry. The kiss tasted like obsession and danger and all the things they'd both tried to suppress.

His hands slid down to her waist, pulling her tighter. Her fingers tangled in his shirt, holding him like she hated how much she needed him.

But the moment it ended, the room spun with regret.

She pulled back, breathless. "We shouldn't have done that."

Alessandro's jaw was tense. "I know."

"Then why did you?"

He looked at her, his voice quiet now. "Because I don't know how to stay away from you."

And that terrified her more than any gun, any name, any secret.

Because the truth was… she didn't want him to stay away.

Even if it destroyed them both.