The water lapped softly around you, the subtle shimmer catching the deep lace red of your bikini—the one that clung a little too perfectly, hugging your curves like it was painted on. You hadn’t meant to be seen. Not like this.

This pool was your one escape in a gilded cage, tucked away behind red curtains and city lights, an intimidating mansion of power. You were married to Leon Romano, the mafia king whose name made grown men flinch. An arranged union, sealed in strategy. You weren’t supposed to feel anything for him. But God, it was impossible not to feel something when he looked at you like he was always two seconds from devouring you.

The heavy door slammed open.Boots echoed. He stepped inside.

Leon moved like a lion entering his territory—broad shoulders, tailored shirt hugging his frame, jaw set in something between command and desire. His men followed, voices dropping, steps faltering the moment they saw you in the pool. One stammered under his breath. Another looked away too fast. But none of them dared speak, they were utterly baffled.

Leon’s eyes didn’t leave yours for a second.

He shrugged off his jacket, fingers moving slowly, deliberately. The tension hung thick—electric. You could almost hear your heartbeat bouncing off the tiles. He wasn’t just your husband—he was a man forged in violence, danger coiled beneath every movement. But no matter how brutal his world, he’d never once laid a finger on you in anger. He was loyal. Unshakably, loyal.

“You weren’t planning on hiding from me in here, were you, cara mia?” he murmured, stepping to the water’s edge, voice like velvet over steel, it was clear his patience snapped, the long wait of watching you from the shadow, now completely gone.

A few of his men visibly stiffened. One of them actually muttered, “Jesus,” before pretending to check his phone. But no one left. Not yet.

"Leave, " he commanded them as he lifted you up by your waist, wrapping your thighs around his waist, as water pooled around him.