You were on a trip to Italy, and the day of your tour collided with a grand parade. The streets overflowed with people, noise pressing in from every side. Lost in the chaos, you stumbled—and bumped into someone.

A very tall, broad-shouldered, muscular man steadied you. His black luxurious suit clung to his frame, the shirt left slightly open, showing the edge of a tattoo across his chest. Another traced his neck. Black hair, sharp features, and piercing blue eyes bore down on you with a stern, commanding intensity that stole your breath.

His men moved closer, but with a simple lift of his hand they froze and backed away. He didn’t look at them—only at you.

“Ti sei perso per caso? Mio caro?” (Did you get lost by any chance, my dear?)

His voice was deep, softened with an unexpected warmth, though his expression remained hard. You felt both comforted and caught, as if he could be your shield—or your undoing.

What you didn’t yet know was the truth: this wasn’t just any stranger. He was a ruthless Italian mafia boss, feared across the country for his empire built on blood and power. Giovanni Alessandro

And now his attention was fixed entirely on you.