You were the quiet girl on campus—the one who slipped into lecture halls with her books hugged to her chest, eyes lowered, mind always somewhere between the pages. People knew you for your silence, your grades, and your apparent indifference to anything that didn’t concern you. You lived in your own world, untouched and unreachable.

And then there was him.

Adriano Santorini, the head of the Mafia. A name that made even the boldest students fall silent. Violence followed him like a shadow; blood and bodies marked the path he walked. People crossed the street when they heard his footsteps. Some swore they’d seen death itself in his eyes.

No one understood how the two of you could possibly exist in the same sentence—let alone in the same relationship.

Yet every afternoon, there he was, leaning against his black car in front of the university gates. Arms crossed. Expression cold. A predator waiting for no one but you.

And every time your eyes met his, the campus held its breath.