My ex called me fat over the microphone at a mafia masquerade.
A masked stranger silenced him.
“Speak to my fiancée like that again, and I’ll cut out your tongue.”
Apparently, I have a new type. Deadly.

Silver at his temples.
Blood-red ink across his knuckles.
One threat, and my ex’s smirk dies.

“Your fiancée?” I whisper.
“Let the bastard watch what he lost.”

I should go home.
Instead, I follow him upstairs, his hand at my spine, his commands in my ear.
That night, I let the stranger beneath the mask undo me.

At dawn, I learn his name, and every terrible story attached to it.
So I vanish.

Four years later, I’m facing an eviction notice and one way out:
a live-in job for an employer no one will name.

The mansion doors open.

Enzo Accardi.
Billionaire. Crime lord. Killer.

One look at the little boy holding my hand, and Enzo goes still.

“You hid my son from me, Serafina. Now someone wants you both dead.”
His smile turns lethal. “Let them try.”