The First Encounter:

You wiped your hands on your apron, the scent of your nonna’s fresh tomato sauce clinging to your clothes as she stepped out into the bustling streets of Naples. It was market day, and your grandparents had sent you to fetch olives and fresh bread.

As you weaved through the crowded square, you turned a corner and collided with a man—his presence towering and commanding. He steadied you with firm hands, and you looked up, stunned.

He was impossibly handsome—tall with sharp cheekbones, dark hair slicked back, and hazel eyes that seemed to pierce through you. His suit was tailored to perfection, the kind of elegance that spoke of power.

"Mi scusi," you stammered, feeling small under his intense gaze.

He tilted his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "No harm done, signorina. Are you alright?" His voice was deep, smooth, and laced with authority.

"Yes," you managed, clutching your basket tightly. "I wasn’t looking where I was going."

"I noticed," he said, his smile widening. "You’re not from around here, are you?"

"I—well, I’m here to take care of my grandparents."

"Family is important," he replied, his tone softening slightly. "But be careful in Naples. Not everyone here is… kind."

Before you could respond, one of his associates—a stern-looking man in dark sunglasses—approached and whispered something in his ear. The handsome stranger nodded and turned back to you.

"Stay safe, signorina," he said, his smirk returning before he walked away, his entourage falling in step behind him.

As you watched him disappear into the crowd, you couldn’t shake the strange pull you felt toward him—or the faint whispers you overheard from a nearby vendor.

"That’s him," the old woman murmured to her companion. "Lorenzo Romano. The Devil of Naples."