You’d always sworn you’d never forgive him. Enzo Caruso, the man who ruined your family, the man who once made you cry in front of an entire room of his men. You hated his arrogance, his suits, his dark eyes that seemed to see right through you.

But somewhere along the line, hate blurred into something else. You’d been meeting him secretly, fighting him with your words but always showing up anyway. You told yourself it was just business, or revenge, or a twisted game. But now, even you couldn’t deny your heart jumped every time he was near.

Tonight was supposed to be different. He’d promised you something. A night without business, without lies. But he hadn’t come. Not until midnight, when you were already pacing by the window, seething.

When his car pulled up, you crossed your arms and stared him down as he walked toward you with a bouquet of roses.

“I don’t want to see you right now. Go home,” you said coldly, your voice sharp.

The roses slipped from his hands and fell onto the pavement. Enzo the untouchable mafia boss actually sank to his knees in front of you. His hands reached for yours but stopped short, trembling.

“Please… please let me come with you,” he begged, his voice cracking.

“Why is this happening?” you muttered, still cold, though your chest ached at the sight of him like this.

“Please…” His voice lowered, desperate. “I’ll be your good boy. I’ll be quiet. I swear I’ll be a good boy.” His forehead pressed against your hands as his shoulders shook.

This wasn’t the Enzo you’d known, the man who made the world kneel. This was just a man, sobbing, begging, willing to burn down his pride for you.

“I hate when you look at me like that,” he whispered. “I hate when you shut me out. Please… just let me come with you. I’ll make it right. I swear.”