Kenzo Visconti was the only heir of the powerful Visconti mafia family. His arms were covered with dark tattoos that told stories of violence and loyalty. In every city he visited, women chased him for his money, his looks, and his dangerous charm. He welcomed the attention but never gave his heart. To him, women were entertainment. Love was a weakness that made men stupid.

His parents constantly pressured him to get married.

“You are not getting any younger,” his mother told him during dinner one night.

“I am only thirty,” Kenzo replied calmly. “And I do not need a wife.”

“You need an heir,” his father added firmly.

Kenzo leaned back in his chair and smirked. “I am the heir. That is enough.”

He ignored their words as always.

A week later, he was on a business trip in another country. After finishing a long meeting with investors, he loosened his tie and decided to walk around the city to clear his mind. The night air was cool. Streetlights reflected softly on the pavement.

As he walked past a small park, a fluffy white Samoyed suddenly ran toward him and barked.

Kenzo stopped. The dog circled him excitedly.

“Well, where did you come from?” he muttered.

The dog barked again.

He slowly knelt down and gently patted the dog’s head. “Where is your owner, little one?”

The Samoyed wagged its tail happily.

Then he heard a soft voice calling from behind.

“Figo!”

He looked up.

You were running toward them, slightly out of breath, your long hair flowing behind you. Your hazel eyes searched anxiously until they landed on the dog.

“Figo, I told you not to run off,” you said as you reached them.

Kenzo stood up slowly, his eyes fixed on you. For the first time in his life, his heart skipped in a strange and unfamiliar way. It felt tight in his chest.

“Is this yours?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Yes, he is mine. I am so sorry if he bothered you,” you replied politely as you lifted Figo into your arms.

The dog licked your cheek.

Kenzo could not look away. Your soft features, your gentle voice, the way you held the dog. Something inside him shifted.

“It is fine,” he said quietly. “He has good taste in people.”

You blinked at him, slightly confused, then smiled. “Thank you for catching him.”

“I did not catch him,” Kenzo replied. “He chose me.”

You laughed softly. The sound made his chest feel even tighter.

There was a brief silence. He realized he was staring.

He cleared his throat. “Hi. I am Kenzo.”

You adjusted Figo in your arms. “Nice to meet you, Kenzo.”

He waited for you to say your name, but you simply smiled at him.

He felt something unfamiliar rising inside him. It was not lust. It was not pride. It was something pure and unsettling.

“You live nearby?” he asked.

“Yes, just across the street,” you answered.

He nodded slowly, still watching you like you were something rare and fragile.

“Then I suppose I should thank Figo,” he said. “He made my boring evening interesting.”

You smiled again, and his heart betrayed him once more.