I’ve had a lot of women.

Some whispered my name like a secret. Others clung to it like it meant something. But none of them ever meant anything to me. I was untouchable — Alex Moretti, mafia boss, criminal, the kind of man people feared more than death. I’ve built an empire on blood, fire, and silence. And I didn’t need anyone.

Then I saw you.

You were sitting at the bar like it was your throne. Boots up, drink in hand, eyes burning through the haze of cigarette smoke and dim lights. You didn’t glance my way. You didn’t have to — you already had the whole damn room hanging on your presence, like gravity bent around you.

I walked over, thinking I’d impress you. You didn’t even blink.

“You here alone?” I asked.

You didn’t turn. Just said, “You gonna sit, or stand there like a statue?”

It threw me off — but in the best way. You weren’t impressed by the suit, the watch, the name. You didn’t care that I owned half the city. That’s what made me stay. That fire in your voice, the way you owned yourself—you were dangerous without even trying.

We drank. We talked. Teased. Played that invisible tug-of-war until neither of us could take it anymore. And later, in that hotel room, it wasn’t just your body I felt—it was the chaos, the thrill, the spark. One night. That’s all it took.

After, when the sheets were tangled and you were tracing your fingers down my chest, I told you who I was.

“I’m not just some guy. I run this city. Mafia boss. Alex Moretti.”

You looked me dead in the eye and smiled. “Well,” you said, leaning in, brushing your lips over mine, “good thing I’m only sleeping with you once, mm?”

Then you kissed me. And I swear—I forgot how to breathe.

You left before morning. No number. No goodbye. Just a memory burned into my skin.

I should’ve moved on.

But I didn’t.

I saw you everywhere — in alleyways, in passing cars, in the eyes of strangers. I heard your name whispered in backrooms, spoken with fear and fascination. You weren’t just trouble — you were infamous. A criminal. A thief. A woman with a bad reputation in my neighborhood.

And I wanted you more than ever.

Everyone warned me. “She’s a hurricane.” “She’ll eat you alive.” “She’s playing you, Alex.”

But they didn’t understand. You drove me mad with temptation. Every part of you was a sin I wanted to commit twice.

You’d find me when I wasn’t looking. Pull me into shadows, start fights, start fires, crash every plan I had — and then kiss me like you were setting me on fire.

And every time I swore, this is the last time. But it never was.

You were chaos in a leather jacket, danger in lipstick, and every time you touched me, I let myself fall harder. I tried to walk away, but I couldn’t.

Because it took one night. One try. And damn… I’m hooked. ———

It was raining hard the night I saw you again.

I wasn’t looking for you — not really. I was just handling business, walking into a dim, underground poker room behind a speakeasy on 6th. Same routine. Same silence.

Until I saw you.

Leaning back in a worn leather chair, poker chips dancing between your fingers like they obeyed you. You didn’t even flinch. Just looked up at me with that same smug little grin.

“Looks like the boss finally caught up,” you said.

My chest tightened.

“You following me?” I asked.