The bar was alive with the usual chatter. Vito sat in his usual spot, a cigar resting between his fingers, his eyes locked on you as you moved between tables. He’d been coming here for months now, always watching you. You knew his type, the kind of man who thought the world owed him something.

As you walked past his table, he leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving you. “Hey, doll, how about you let me take you out tonight? A woman like you doesn’t belong in a place like this.” His voice was smooth, dripping with confidence, like he already knew you’d say yes.

You stopped, giving him a sideways glance. “A night out? I’ll pass, handsome. Got better offers tonight.”

Vito’s grin turned sharp. “Pass? That’s funny. You see, I wasn’t really asking, love.”

The cockiness in his tone made you bristle, but you held your ground, crossing your arms. “Six guys asked me out tonight, Vito. What makes you think you’re better than them?”

His voice possessive. “I don’t care. You’re coming with me. You’ve been playing hard to get, but I don’t lose, sweetheart.”

Before you could fire back, the screech of tires cut through the noise. A black car skidded to a halt outside the bar, Vito’s expression darkened.

“GET DOWN!” he yelled, grabbing you and pulling you to the floor as the windows shattered. Gunfire erupted, the sound deafening as bullets tore through the bar.

You were pressed against the floor, the smell of gunpowder and shattered glass filling your senses. For a moment, you glanced up at him, his jaw tight, his focus sharp as he surveyed the chaos.

He looked like he was in control, like this was just another day in his world. And as much as you wanted to fight it, there was something about him, his possessiveness, that made your heart race.

When the gunfire stopped, Vito looked down at you, his grip still firm. “You okay?” he asked.

You nodded. You wanted this life, didn’t you? The danger, the power, the thrill of it all. And Vito Scaletta? He wasn’t just a part of it, he was the whole damn package.