My Mfia Target: One Last Job

The first rule of assassination: never get too close.

And yet, here I was, stepping into his world like I belonged, my pulse thrumming like a lover's whisper.

My name is Juliette Devereaux, and by sunrise, Luca Moretti would be dead.

The club was alive with sin, a heartbeat of music and whispered deals. Shadows flickered across marble floors, drowning in the scent of whiskey and power. He ruled from the back, a king in a black suit, his presence swallowing the room.

I had studied him for months. The way he carried danger like an afterthought, the way his enemies feared him more than death itself. Luca Moretti was untouchable. But I had been sent to do the impossible.

He had never seen me before. But by the time this night was over, he would never forget me.

I moved through the crowd, the red silk of my dress flowing around me like spilled wine. Every step was calculated, a trap hidden in the sway of my hips. And when our eyes met-

I felt it.

The slow, burning recognition.

Luca Moretti didn't just look at a woman. He consumed her.

His gaze dragged over me, dark and knowing, like he had already decided I belonged to him. My stomach tightened-not in fear, but something far more dangerous.

He lifted a hand, beckoning me closer. And just like that, I was in the lion's den.

I slid into the booth beside him, close enough to breathe in his cologne-smoky, spiced, laced with danger.

"I don't believe we've met," he said, voice low, rich, and infuriatingly confident.

I smiled. "Not yet."

His smirk deepened. "And here I thought I knew every beautiful woman in my city."

I traced the rim of my glass, matching his slow, deliberate movements. "Maybe I'm not from your city."

His eyes flickered with interest. "Then what are you doing in my club, bella?"

I leaned in, my lips nearly brushing his ear. "Looking for trouble."

His fingers brushed against my knee, testing. "Then you've come to the right place."

I let him touch me. Let him think I was just another woman drawn to the danger he wore like a crown.

Let him want me.

Because the moment he let his guard down...

I would be the last woman he ever touched.

Luca's touch was light, almost lazy, as his fingers traced along my knee. Testing, teasing. A man used to taking what he wanted.

I should have pulled away. Should have reminded myself why I was here. But instead, I let my lips curve into a slow smile, tilting my head just slightly so my hair brushed his shoulder. A carefully crafted move-one that made it look like I was giving him control, when in reality, I was the one leading him exactly where I wanted.

"I don't think I've seen you before," he murmured, his voice a slow drag of whiskey and sin. "And I make it a point to remember beautiful things."

I ran a fingertip along the edge of my glass, matching his deliberate movements. "Maybe you've just never been looking in the right places."

His smirk deepened. A predator who knew another when he saw one.

For a long moment, he simply watched me, as if trying to untangle the mystery I had wrapped myself in. I needed that. I needed him intrigued, curious-distracted. Because the longer he was thinking about how much he wanted me, the less he'd be thinking about the knife strapped to my thigh.

A server arrived, placing a fresh drink in front of me. Luca didn't look at her, didn't break his stare. "On the house," he said. "A welcome gift."

I tilted my head. "Do you make a habit of giving gifts to strangers?"

His lips twitched. "Only the dangerous ones."

He was testing me. A man like him wouldn't fall for an easy trick. He wanted to see how far I'd let him go-how much I was willing to risk.

So I played the game.

I lifted the glass to my lips, taking a slow sip, never breaking eye contact. I didn't flinch at the burn of expensive whiskey or the way his gaze darkened when I licked a stray drop from my lips.

His hand slid just a fraction higher on my leg, fingertips ghosting along the slit in my dress. "Tell me, bella, do you always flirt with danger?"

I exhaled a soft laugh. "Only when danger flirts back."

Luca leaned in, close enough that his breath warmed my skin. "And what happens when danger bites?"

I turned my head just slightly, letting our lips brush in the faintest, most tantalizing of touches. "Then I bite back."

For a moment, the air between us was electric. A battle of restraint.

And then-

A scream.

Gunfire erupted from the entrance of the club.

The spell shattered.

Luca was up in an instant, his body shifting between me and the chaos, one hand reaching for the gun holstered beneath his suit.

I did the same, instincts honed from years of training taking over. But just as my fingers brushed the blade hidden beneath my dress, I felt it-

Luca's hand, wrapping around my wrist.

His voice was dark, sharp. "Now, bella, what exactly do you think you're reaching for?"

Shit.

Luca's grip was firm, his fingers pressing into my wrist just enough to make a point-he knew.

I met his gaze, my heartbeat steady even as chaos exploded around us. "What does it look like?" I purred, tilting my head slightly, letting my lips part just enough to keep him distracted. "I was reaching for you."

A lie. A pretty one.

One that might save my life.

Gunshots rang out near the entrance, screams echoing through the club as men in masks stormed in, weapons raised. Luca barely glanced at them-his focus was on me.

"That so?" His voice was velvet-wrapped steel. "Funny, because I could've sworn you were reaching for something sharp."

My mind worked fast, calculating. He hadn't seen the blade. Not fully. If he had, I'd already be dead.

I softened my expression, leaning into his grip just slightly. "And if I was?" I whispered. "Would you stop me?"

For a long, charged moment, he didn't speak. He didn't have to. The weight of his stare said enough-Luca Moretti was intrigued. And that was dangerous.

Then, a man lunged toward us, gun raised.

Luca moved first.

In a single, fluid motion, he released me, grabbed his own weapon, and fired. The man barely had time to react before he collapsed, blood pooling across the marble floor.

The club was in chaos, bodies scrambling for cover as more masked men flooded in. A hit. Someone had come for Luca-and not just anyone. They were professionals.

Which meant one thing: I wasn't the only one sent to kill him tonight.

Shit.

Luca turned back to me, gun still raised, voice low and sharp. "Stay here."

I could've laughed. Like hell.

Instead, I reached forward, grabbing his wrist before he could move. His brows lifted slightly-not many people touched Luca Moretti without consequence.

"You're outnumbered," I said, pitching my voice just enough to sound concerned. Not desperate. Not eager. Just enough to make him think I was a woman caught in the crossfire, not the storm itself. "You need backup."

His lips quirked, amusement flickering in his eyes even as bullets flew around us. "And you think you can help?"

I smiled. He had no idea.

One of the masked men turned toward us, gun raised-too slow. I spun, kicking the weapon from his grip before sweeping his legs out from under him. He hit the floor hard, and before he could react, I snatched the knife from my thigh and drove it clean into his throat.

Luca whistled low, impressed. "Dangerous indeed."

I straightened, wiping my blade on the dead man's jacket. "Told you."

Another shot rang out, barely missing Luca's head. He grabbed my hand without thinking, pulling me behind him as he fired again, taking down another intruder.

I should have let go. Should have broken away. But for some reason, I didn't.

And for the first time in my career, I felt it-

The pull toward my target.

A mistake. A deadly one.

But one I wasn't ready to fix just yet.