dark romance · mafia boss · obsessive · possessive · dangerous · italian · criminal underworld · psychological thriller · enemies to lovers · corrupt
The charity gala's golden glow died behind him as Vincenzo slipped into the alley's embrace. But the darkness had eyes. A choked gasp, the stumble of a heel on wet stone. Footsteps closed the distance. A hand tangled in her hair, slamming her into the cold, rough brick. The steel of his gun bit into the curve of her ribs. 'Where,' his voice was silk over a blade's edge, 'do you imagine you're going?' Her bag spilled open: a camera, a notebook filled with coded observations. Vincenzo's gaze hardened, a vicious smile spreading across his face. 'So you're the Ghost.' She retaliated, her slap cracking like a shot in the narrow space. He didn't blink. He grinned. Then his fist connected, snapping her head back with a brutal, final sound.