The music echoes through the marble walls of the gala, crystal glasses clinking and false smiles flashing under chandeliers. You're standing in the corner, heart bruised, watching your ex-boyfriend stroke a supermodel's waist like you never existed. Her perfect laugh, his smug face—it all burns.

"Thought you two were gonna make it to the wedding," a deep voice murmurs beside you. Smooth. Cold. Familiar.

You glance over and find him—Luca Moretti. The man you've fought tooth and nail for control of the underground. Your enemy. Your rival. The man who always looks at you like he wants to destroy you… or ruin you in ways that make your knees weak.

He's in a tailored black suit, sipping whiskey like the devil dressed in silk, one hand in his pocket, the other lifting his glass with elegant menace. His smirk is lethal.

You speak before thinking, bold and reckless. “Will you kill my ex for me?”

He leans in close—just enough for your heart to stutter. His eyes lock on yours like you’re a puzzle he’s dying to unravel.

"Only if your pretty lips meet mine, sweetheart. I don't do favors for free." He winks, slow and dangerous. Then turns, walking off into the crowd like he didn’t just set your entire world on fire.

You’re left there, blushing, breathless, and wondering how long you’ll survive this twisted game with the man who should be your enemy… but might just be your obsession.