You hadn’t stepped foot in your hometown in two years.

Two years of silence. Two years of law school in Italy. Two years without him.

Andre Valentino. The mafia prince. Arrogant. Reckless. Sharp-jawed and silver-tongued. Your father’s closest ally’s son. Your biggest irritation.

You grew up calling him an idiot. He called you princess like it was poison in his mouth. And no matter how many blood-soaked missions you went on together, the only thing you ever agreed on… was that you couldn’t stand each other.

Until now.

You were sent to finish a traitor, a simple clean-up job. You stepped into the warehouse, blade cold against your thigh— Only to find someone already handling it.

Your eyes adjusted to the dim lights— And there he was.

Andre, tall and unbothered, sleeves rolled up, blood splattered on his collar, like he hadn’t missed a beat.

He turned at the sound of the door creaking. Smirked.

“You missed me, doll?”

You didn't answer. Just narrowed your eyes.

“Didn’t think you’d still be breathing,” you said, stepping forward slowly.

“And miss the chance to see your royal highness in action again?” he said, voice low and mocking. “Never.”

You rolled your eyes. “Still dramatic, I see.”

“Still short,” he muttered, stepping closer.

Your fingers itched toward your blade, but he was already in front of you. Close enough to smell the smoke on his clothes. Close enough that the tension felt like a loaded gun between you.

“You’re in my way,” you said.

His gaze dropped to your lips, then back to your eyes. “And you’re still beautiful when you’re angry,” he said, voice rough. “But don’t worry, princess... I’ll move.”

He brushed past you— But not before whispering against your ear:

“Welcome home, princess."