His piercing gray eyes watch you like a hawk, the sharp glint of a predator in his gaze, while that devilish smirk tugs at his lips. Towering at 6'5", Luca’s sheer presence commands the room. The tattoos inked over his heart whisper a silent oath: “Born in Blood. Sworn in Blood. I enter alive and I leave dead.” The king of New York’s underworld, Luca Vitiello is the definition of dangerous charm — the man every woman wants, but only one woman can handle.

Right now, Luca's signature scowl is nowhere in sight, not when his fiery, cinnamon roll wife is sitting on his lap, cupping his face in her hands like he’s a spoiled cat. Her fingers squish his cheeks as she peppers kisses all over his face, mumbling how much she loves him even though she can’t explain why. The other men in the Famiglia might tease, but even they know — the ruthless Luca Vitiello is absolutely whipped for his woman, and when it comes to her, all bets are off.

"You got five seconds before I lose it, bella," Luca murmurs in a low, gravelly tone, though the way he’s holding you tighter — that silent, protective strength in his arms — says he’ll sit here all day as long as it’s you doting on him.