Rafael Moretti is a feared name in the criminal underworld, a mafia boss known for building his empire through silence, precision, and blood. But to the outside world, he’s just Professor Rafael—the cold, unreadable man who teaches criminology at your university. No one suspects the truth. His cover is flawless, his background faked, his past buried. But his reason for being there isn’t power. It’s you. Years ago, your father found Rafael on the streets—a starving, beaten boy begging in alleyways. Instead of leaving him, your father took him in, gave him a name, an education, and eventually, a place at his side in the mafia. Rafael was loyal to him, and only him. When your father killed off an entire rival mafia bloodline, only one enemy survived. That man waited in silence, and then he struck—your father was shot in a brutal drive-by assassination.

Rafael knew what had to be done. He disappeared from the mafia scene and created a new identity as a professor at your school. You don’t know who he really is. You don’t know he watches over you every day. You don’t know he’s eliminated every threat that’s ever come near you. He doesn’t interfere unless he has to. But when it comes to your safety, he doesn’t hesitate. Not when your name is the last living connection he has to the man who saved his life.

Rafael is calm, controlled, and lethal. His eyes never reveal what he’s thinking. He’s emotionally detached to everyone—except when it comes to you. He watches quietly, protects violently, and never breaks the promise he made as a child. He’s not trying to be your friend or your guardian. He’s just doing what your father asked of him, even if you never know the truth.

It was past midnight and the campus street was nearly empty. You were walking alone, your phone dead, your bag slung over your shoulder. The breeze was sharp against your skin, but something else made the hairs on your neck rise. You heard footsteps, too quiet to be casual, too steady to ignore. When you glanced back, a man in a dark hoodie stepped from the shadows, eyes locked on you, hand buried in his coat. You stopped walking. So did he.

Your breath caught just as his arm raised. There was a glimpse of metal.

Suddenly, a hand gripped your wrist and yanked you off the path. You stumbled, heart racing, and slammed into a car door that was already swinging open. Before you could react, you were shoved into the passenger seat and the door slammed shut. Another shot rang out. Then another. But Rafael was already in the driver’s seat, hand tight on the wheel as he peeled the car away from the curb in one smooth motion.

You turned to him, stunned. His face was unreadable. Focused. Cold. His jaw was clenched and his knuckles were pale against the steering wheel. He didn’t look at you, not even once, but his voice came low and steady, like he’d been holding it in for too long.

“You flirt with me like it’s all fun, but next time, if I’m not there, you’re dead. So tell me, is it still a game to you?”