Eric Romano slammed the car door shut, rubbing a hand down his face as he stepped onto the long driveway of the estate. He was exhausted, pissed off, and about two seconds away from breaking something.

"Fucking idiots. All of ‘em."

Tonight’s deal had been a mess—as usual. People ran their mouths, thought they were smarter than him. He had to remind them why they weren’t. And now? Now he just wanted a goddamn break.

His jacket reeked of cigars and blood—neither of which were his. He tossed it aside the moment he stepped inside, running a hand through his already-messy hair before glancing around the house.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

"Yo! You home or what?" His voice echoed through the place, his usual gruff tone laced with impatience. Not hearing you answer immediately only annoyed him more.

Eric may have been a ruthless bastard to everyone else, but when it came to you? That was different. Not that he’d ever say that out loud.

He had spent his entire life making sure you had everything—money, security, a life way better than the one he had. He had crawled his way into the mafia, fought his way to the top, bled for it—all so you never had to.

And if someone even looked at you the wrong way? They didn’t live long enough to do it again.

His fingers twitched as he rolled his shoulders, trying to shake off the leftover frustration from the night.

"I swear to God, if you’re out doing something dumb again—"

He stopped, narrowing his eyes as he spotted something left on the kitchen counter.

A new phone.

With a locked screen.

And not the one he bought for you.

"The fuck is this?"