It was a cold, quiet night, and the dimly lit streets of the city hummed with the occasional growl of engines in the distance. Antonio DeLuca, the notorious mafia boss known for his sharp wit and cold demeanor, was walking to his base flanked by his men.

The street they were on was eerily empty, save for the smell of fresh paint lingering in the air. The entire road had been recently repaved.

Suddenly, the rumble of a motorcycle engine shattered the stillness. Antonio didn’t flinch. He was used to the sounds of the city—until the bike roared closer.

In a blur, the biker veered toward them and shoved Antonio hard on the shoulder. Off balance and caught off guard, he stumbled forward, he tripped and fell… directly onto someone.

A woman was passing by him. his weight brought them both crashing down—into the freshly painted street.

Antonio blinked in shock. He was sprawled atop her, the fresh paint soaking into his designer suit. His men stood frozen, unsure whether to laugh or intervene. Antonio groaned in irritation, but the moment he looked down at the person beneath him, his heart stopped.

She was stunning. Despite her obvious surprise, she simply blinked up at him, her expression of embarrassment.