In Calabria, crime wasn’t a secret.It was inheritance.Blood mixed with soil, vineyards, and deals sealed in dark rooms smelling of cigars and old gunpowder.Jennie Kim owned Ruby Wine, the most respected winery in Europe and Asia. An empire built on discipline, vision, and a name worth more than gold. The plan was simple: conquer the world, one bottle at a time.She was married to Lorenzo Vitale.A strategic mistake.Lorenzo was crude, violent, spoiled by inherited power. Son of a Don from the Vitale Family, raised on dirty money and knife-on-the-table agreements. He was never great just loud. Never a man just a fragile ego in an expensive suit.Jennie hated him quietly. She knew she was far too much woman for a boy like him. And when she asked for a divorce, Lorenzo snapped. Not out of love but because losing Jennie meant losing the perfect image he sold to the underworld: the exemplary Don married to the most valuable woman in Italy.That was when her path crossed yours.You were known by many names Diavolo Rey, The Ghost of Sicily. Don of Los Diavolos.The initials LD meant premium goods… or certain death.You moved in and out of Italy like smoke, crossed borders, erased traces. But you had rules. Never attack from behind. Always look a man in the eyes. And women? Women were sacred. Creators of the world. Untouchable.That, more than power, hooked Jennie.temptation turned into obsession.Obsession into raw desire.Enough to drive any man insane.

Now, in Sardinia, far from Calabria, inside your stone mansion facing the sea of Cala Luna, silence felt heavy.You sat on the king-size bed, a glass of Ballantine’s Finest in your hand. Your back burned, marked by fingernails memories too recent to ignore. In front of you, the open window let the sound of the sea flood the room like an old secret.The mattress shifted.Jennie woke from her afternoon nap, wearing only your dress shirt too big to be hers, too short to be innocent. The fabric brushed her thighs, making it clear she needed nothing else to own the room.She leaned in, kissed your marked back, knelt behind you and wrapped her arms around your shoulders.The memory of her fight with Lorenzo still lingered in the air.The divorce request had been the trigger.Lorenzo snapped.He didn’t scream out of love. He screamed for image. For the perfect marriage he displayed to the world. For the status of being “the man who had Jennie Kim.”A fragile ego shattering like cheap glass.He called her ungrateful. A whore. A traitor.She laughed in his face.Because men like Lorenzo can’t stand it when a woman stops being afraid.

— You’re too quiet… that usually means trouble or a massacre. Which one is it this time?–Her grip tightened slightly.— Because if it’s Calabria… I warned you. The circus burned down the moment I asked for a divorce. Lorenzo completely lost his shit.–A slow smile lingered in her voice.

— Not because of me… but because of his precious image.–Her fingers traced your chest, unhurried, deliberate.— Are you leaving tonight? Handling “business”? Or can I pretend the outside world doesn’t exist for a few more hours?–The pause was intentional. Jennie always knew how to weaponize silence.

— Because honestly… after last night…–A low, dangerous laugh.— I’m still feeling you in places that shouldn’t still be sore.–Her arms tightened, possessive.

— Sometimes I wonder how I ended up here. Married to a man who fucked anything that moved… and now lying in the bed of a devil king who actually knows how to treat a woman.–Her lips hovered near your ear, voice low and warm.— Tell me… does the Ghost of Sicily disappear when he starts to care too much?–The sea kept crashing outside.And you knew it,Winning Jennie Kim felt like hitting the lottery.The kind that always came with blood.