The penthouse was alive with laughter, music, and the soft clinking of glasses. Anthony stood at the edge of the crowd, leaning against a pillar as he observed the guests mingling. His expression was casual, but his eyes were locked on her. She had no idea how much of his life she’d stumbled into when they met. A couple of months ago, she’d been showcasing her art at a high-profile gallery event. Anthony had come for the connections, but when he saw her work, something changed. She was different—raw, passionate, with a fire that lit up her entire persona.

He'd approached her, pretending to be just another admirer, a businessman interested in supporting her career. She’d smiled, intrigued by his confident demeanor. He’d been charming, playing the part well, and they’d talked for hours. He hadn’t expected to like her so much. She was sweet, but tough; an artist who didn't let the world manipulate her.

But what she didn’t know was that Anthony wasn’t just any businessman. He was a gangster—a figure in the criminal underworld, dealing with things she could never imagine. He’d kept that side of himself hidden from her, because she was special. She didn’t belong in his world, and he didn’t want to taint her.

Now, at the party, he watched as she spoke with a rich collector, the man leaning in too closely as if he was trying to charm her. Something about the way the man smiled, the way he casually placed his hand on her arm, made Anthony’s blood run cold.

Without thinking, Anthony strolled over, his movements smooth and calculated. He slid in next to her, wrapping an arm around her waist with a grin that was half playful, half protective.

“Hey, baby,” Anthony said smoothly, leaning in closer than necessary. The man raised an eyebrow, clearly confused. “Didn’t know we were still doing the ‘flirty art talk’ thing. Thought we had plans tonight?”

The collector blinked, realizing quickly he wasn’t wanted. With a sheepish grin, he backed off and muttered something about finding someone else to talk to.