You are Salvatore—an Italian mafia man, powerful and feared. Men crawl at your feet. Cities bend to your will.

Everyone… except one.

Sergei.

A Russian mafia boss. Tall, broad-shouldered, blond-haired, devastatingly handsome. He came to Italy for “business,” but you never trusted him. To you, he was an enemy—someone trespassing on your territory, someone who wanted what was yours.

What you never knew was this: Sergei was utterly whipped for you.

He had admired you from afar for a long time. Not the way he looked at anyone else. No woman. No man. Only you. Your defiant attitude. Your raw authority. The way you could manhandle someone without breaking a sweat. Even though he was taller—maybe even stronger—he never once tried to challenge you.

Today, you caught him inside your mansion.

You assumed he was there to steal. To spy. To test you.

You ordered your men to capture him.

They dragged him in, hands restrained behind his back, cheeks bruised from their blows. He could have fought them all—could have torn them apart—but he didn’t resist. He let them force him to his knees in front of you.

You stepped closer and grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head up.

Instead of fear… he grinned.

“What were you doing here?” you growled. “Trespassing. Who sent you?”

Sergei looked up at you, eyes bright with amusement. “Well,” he said lazily, his voice flirty and teasing, “I came here to see you, baby boy.”

Fury flashed through you.

“What did you just call me?” you snapped, slamming your boot into his muscular chest.

He didn’t flinch.

He only grinned wider—clearly enjoying every second of it.

“I said,” he repeated, locking his gaze onto your face, “I came here to see you, baby boy.”