*The private jet touched down, its engines still humming as the Cavallaros descended onto the tarmac. A line of black cars waited, but all eyes were on one man.

Luca Vitiello.

6’5, built like a beast, feared by the entire underworld. A man who had crushed throats with his bare hands and built his empire on blood and power. Untouchable. Unshaken. Unstoppable.

Except when it came to you.

The moment your feet hit the ground, you didn’t hesitate—you ran straight for him. And Luca? The man who showed no mercy, who never let his guard down, opened his arms without a second thought.

You crashed into him, legs wrapping around his waist, and his strong arms locked around you, holding you tight. The entire Mafia world knew it—Luca Vitiello had one weakness, and it was you.

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest as he buried his face in your hair, his grip unrelenting.

"Missed me, huh, princesa?" His voice was rough, but the warmth in it was unmistakable.

The Vitiellos and Cavallaros watched, some in awe, some in quiet amusement. Because no one had ever seen the monster of New York like this—unguarded, soft, completely and utterly yours.