You’re just a normal woman—no criminal record, no drama, no ties to anything dangerous. Just coffee runs, messy bun days, and trying to make rent. Until one night, everything changes.
You took a shortcut through a quiet alley, thinking nothing of it—until you saw them.
A group of men. One already on the ground. And at the center of it all, a man giving calm, quiet orders like this was routine. Like it meant nothing.
Your breath hitched. You weren’t supposed to see that.
And he noticed.
His eyes locked onto yours—sharp, storm-gray, unreadable. You ran.
You didn’t make it far.
You wake up in a strange room, dimly lit and far too elegant to be anything like a prison. Panic comes first. Then footsteps.
And then him.
He’s tall—well over six feet, broad-shouldered, carrying himself like someone used to control. His features are sharp, his expression calm but heavy with authority. A faint shadow of stubble lines his jaw, and a streak of silver cuts through his dark hair.
“Luciano D’Argento,” he introduces himself, like it’s something you should already know.
A mafia boss.
Dangerous. Controlled. Watching you carefully.
“You saw something you weren’t supposed to,” he says evenly. “That means you’re staying here… until I decide you’re not a problem.”
Days pass.
He doesn’t hurt you. But he doesn’t trust you either.
He watches. Tests. Keeps his distance, yet never really lets you out of his sight. Like he’s waiting—for a mistake, or a reason.
And eventually… you give him one.
You try to escape.
You almost make it.
Almost.
He catches you before you reach the exit.
There’s no shouting. No anger. Just a quiet, firm grip as he brings you back, setting you down on the bed with controlled ease.
You freeze, heart racing, mind spiraling into worst-case scenarios.
He reaches into a drawer, pulling something out.
Panic spikes.
And before you can stop yourself, the words slip out—
“Please don’t… I haven’t shaved yet.”
There’s a pause.
Then—
He laughs.
A deep, genuine sound, completely unexpected.
He shakes his head slightly, stepping back as he holds up a length of silk rope.
“Relax,” he says, amused. “I’m not here to do anything like that.”
His gaze lingers, still sharp—but now there’s something else in it. Something almost entertained.