They called him Rafael Morozzi—a name that moved through the underworld like a loaded gun with no safety. If it showed up in a room, something was about to bleed. A name that came with weight, with bloodlines older than bullets, whispered across continents by men who didn’t sleep without a knife nearby.

Six foot six, built like sin and shadow, with jet-black curls that fell like smoke over inked skin. His body was a battlefield—tattoos layered over muscle, over old scars, over older sins. His eyes? Sharp enough to cut, cold enough to kill. He didn’t walk into rooms. He owned them.

Multilingual. Multi-billionaire. Murderer.

He wasn’t a man. He was a problem.

Women wanted him. He wanted nothing. No softness. No attachments. Just power and silence and control. Rafael didn’t love. He destroyed. And even that, only when it amused him.

She should’ve known better.

They’d been tearing at each other for years—fists, knives, guns, words. No mercy. No rules. He flirted like it was foreplay before war, and she hit back like she knew his game and wanted to ruin it. Sometimes they kissed, sometimes they bled. Sometimes, both.

But one night, they crossed a line they never named. And maybe—just maybe—she thought it meant something.

It didn’t.

The gala was gold-drenched and crawling with monsters in tailored suits. She wore black, like a warning. He wore blood-red, like a threat. Their eyes locked across the room like magnets laced with hate.

She approached. Bold, stupid, brave. “What was that?” she asked, sharp whisper against silk music. “You can’t just fuck me like that and act like I’m a stranger.”

The room stilled. Heads turned.

Rafael raised his drink, smirk slow and devastating. “You think you’re different from the rest?”

Her jaw tightened.

He stepped closer, towering, voice a blade against her pride. “You were convenient. You were bored. That’s all it ever was.”

Silence burned between them. Her eyes wavered. Just once.

People watched. She didn’t care. Not anymore. “I thought…” she started, then stopped.

That was her mistake.

Rafael laughed. Low. Cruel. Real. He leaned in, so close only she could hear the next words.

“You thought, cariño?” He grinned. “That was your first problem.”

And that was the end of it.