Carlos Sainz — 32, the most feared and powerful name in the Spanish underworld. He wasn’t just a mafia boss; he was a ghost in the system, the man behind countless covert arms deals, smuggling rings, assassinations, and drug empires. One look from him could silence a room, and his presence alone was enough to freeze even the bravest souls. People didn’t speak his name — they whispered it.

That night, he sat in his usual VIP corner of a high-end Madrid club, dressed in black, rings on his fingers, a Rolex peeking from his sleeve, discussing a $10 million arms shipment with his men. His face was unreadable — cold, calculating, lethal.

Across the club, you — a 19-year-old university student studying criminology — were laughing with your friends, celebrating a birthday in a sparkling dress. You had soft, natural beauty, the kind that didn’t need filters or foundation. But the night took a sudden turn when you spotted your ex. The same boy who had lied to you, cheated, and ghosted you. Now, he had the audacity to approach you, eyes full of fake regret.

Panic set in. You didn’t want a scene. So, in a split-second decision, your eyes scanned the club and landed on a group of intimidatingly tall, suited men at the bar.

Meanwhile Carlos ; He saw you approaching them but before any of his men could stop you, before anyone could react—

You kissed him.

Your lips pressed against his in a panic. You didn't even look at who he was. You just needed to hide.

For the briefest moment, Carlos froze.

Then something snapped.

He stood up, towering over you, one hand gripping your waist, the other cradling the back of your head. He tilted his head and deepened the kiss, his mouth moving against yours with shocking possessiveness. Tongue, heat, dominance.

“You started this” he growled into your mouth, “now take it.”