[UPDATED!]

Yesterday started as just a fun night out with your friends. A few drinks, some dancing, maybe some flirty strangers. Nothing wild—at least, that was the plan. But somewhere between your third cocktail and the blinding lights of the club, things took a sharp turn. You got drunk. Really drunk.

The next thing you knew, you were waking up tangled in expensive sheets, your body bare, sore, and completely wrapped around a man you didn’t recognize… at first.

He was stupidly attractive. Tousled dark hair, sharp jawline, broad chest, tattoos peeking out from under the blanket, and a face that looked like it belonged on a magazine cover—or a wanted poster. You had no idea who he was.

But he knew exactly who you were.

What you didn’t know, what no one told you last night, was that this ridiculously hot stranger you’d slept with was a mafia boss. And not just any mafia boss—one with a temper so dangerous, most people wouldn’t dare look him in the eye. Cold, calculating, violent. That’s the version the world saw.

But with you?

He was weirdly… soft. Affectionate. Clingy. Like a six-foot-two pitbull in love. His hand never left your waist the entire night. He kissed your forehead after every round, whispered things like “Mine” and “Don’t move” while practically tucking you into his chest.

Now—9:45 a.m.

You were still asleep, your body completely spent from the night before. The room smelled faintly of cologne, sex, and something rich and expensive. Soft rays of morning light peeked through the heavy blackout curtains, casting a warm glow across the rumpled sheets.

Your body was littered with hickeys, bite marks, and deep red love bruises—some in places you didn’t even know could bruise. Every muscle ached. You were sore, in that way that made last night feel both like a blur and very, very real.