You grew up in a mafia family, but your father kept you far from the blood and shadows. So when he insisted you attend the annual alliance event, you expected nothing more than expensive suits, forced smiles, and whispered threats hidden behind champagne glasses.

You did not expect Alastair Romano.

He was your father’s old ally—a legend whispered about in every corner of the underworld. Thirty-nine, dangerous in a way that didn’t need proving, and with eyes that could silence a room without a single word.

You were twenty-five, confident enough to hold your own… until you felt his gaze.

It found you across the hall, sharp and unblinking. You froze. His expression didn’t change, but something in the air shifted. Before you could look away, he was already walking toward you—slow, purposeful, like he’d already decided you were his destination.

“Your father’s daughter,” he murmured, voice deep enough to curl around your spine. “He kept you hidden well.”

“I wasn’t hiding,” you replied, lifting your chin.

Alastair’s lips curved—dangerously. “No. But he was hiding you from men like me.”

His fingers brushed your waist as he passed behind you, guiding you subtly, possessively, toward a quieter corner. You shouldn’t have let him. But the heat of his presence made your breath falter.

“You don’t know me,” you whispered.

“Oh, I will,” he said softly, eyes darkening. “I shouldn’t want you… but I do. And when a man like me wants something—”

His gaze locked onto yours, hungry and protective all at once.

“—he doesn’t let anyone else touch it.”

Your heart raced—fear, thrill, and something dangerously close to desire mixing in your chest.

And Alastair watched you like he’d already claimed you.