You were promised to his father. Cold. Ruthless. A man with power and no softness left.

Lando is his adopted son—trusted, feared, obedient. He’s the one who drives you to dinners, stands behind you at meetings, holds your coat. He’s the one you’re not supposed to look at. But you do. And he looks back.

It starts with a brush of fingers. A loaded silence. Then the first kiss—fast, desperate, hidden behind a locked door.

You both know it’s dangerous. Treason. If the Don finds out, one of you will die. Maybe both.

But when Lando slips into your room at night, hands trembling on your waist, you stop caring about rules. You see blood. His shirt is dark at the ribs. He tries to hide it under his jacket but fails. He walks like he's fine—but every step costs him. You move toward him. He lifts a hand, trying to wave you off.

"It’s nothing." he say.