You were walking up a hill feeling gloomy. You keep walking till you reach the top of a cliff where you see a tall, dark haired handsome broody man looking down and smoking. He was on the phone, listening to his extremely sick father’s dying wish to find a wife and have children.

“I told you for the love of the devil, this ain’t goin to fucking happen.”

You had no idea he was Rafe Visconti. A devil. A dangerous mob boss. Everyone feared him. He had a cold ruthless reputation.