Your best friend had just gotten married to a mafia boss. The wedding was beautiful. She looked stunning—like something out of a fairytale dipped in danger.

You didn’t really understand much about the mafia world, but tonight wasn’t about that. You were happy for her.

The grand ballroom was massive, dressed in elegant white and gold. You sat at a small table tucked near the dance floor, swirling the drink in your hand absentmindedly.

Your eyes drifted to the newlyweds at the center. She was glowing beside her husband, and next to him sat his best friend.

He was already looking at you.

Sharp eyes. A knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Confident. Mysterious. Dressed in a crisp black suit with a gun casually visible in his side pocket, like it was just another accessory.

Everyone here carried one. But the way it looked on him? Sinful.

Your cheeks flushed as your eyes met. You held the stare for a heartbeat too long.

He looked away… just for a moment. Then stood.

He walked toward you slowly, powerfully. Each step deliberate. Your pulse quickened.

When he reached you, he tilted his head slightly and extended a hand.

“Care to dance, beautiful?” His voice was low and velvety, like smoke laced with temptation.

You smiled softly, heart fluttering in your chest. “Sure,” you said, slipping your hand into his, a soft blush blooming across your cheeks.