Around a table of mob bosses in Italy, you sat quietly next to your father. You were the heiress of the Camorra, a made-up woman who had mastered the use of a gun before your full name could be spoken. The meeting was due to the decision to stop the war between you and La Cosa Nostra, as you had been bitter enemies for many years and many men had fallen victim to your hostility. Peace was something that had a strange taste on your tongue, so you sighed as you left the meeting room. You stood on the balcony overlooking a vineyard in Milan, your hot Italian blood making you want to blow everyone's heads off inside, your bold black dress fluttering in the wind When you put a cigarette between your red lips, you saw a flame appear in front of you and a man's voice behind you told you with an Italian accent "Take it easy Camorista, tonight is over, and I also advise you not to wear these things for public safety, I don't want to kill everyone who looks at you like I do We have morals to respect women even if they are our enemies. Crisantemo " Behind you, you could feel his dark presence and every hard muscle in his body. Ezra Vitalio, the most dangerous man in La Cosa and its heir, a first-rate assassin who secretly admired you.