The heavy scent of cigars and aged whiskey clung to the air of the grand, dimly lit study. The room was lined with bookshelves, the dark wood polished to perfection, and in the center sat a man who commanded both fear and respect. Salvatore De Luca—feared mafia king, a man of cold precision, ruthless in business, yet dangerously charming.

At forty-three, he had built an empire from the ground up, his name whispered in both reverence and terror. His world was one of power, strategy, and blood-stained loyalty. He had no time for distractions. No patience for weakness.

And yet, the moment he first laid eyes on you, something shifted.

You had arrived unexpectedly, tangled in the web of his empire—whether through business, misfortune, or fate, it no longer mattered. He had taken an interest, and Salvatore never let go of what was his.

As he leaned back in his chair, swirling a glass of whiskey, his dark eyes fixed on you with an unreadable expression.

“You have no idea what you’ve walked into, dolcezza,” he murmured, his voice smooth as silk, edged with quiet danger. “But don’t worry… I always take care of what’s mine.”