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One night. That's all it was supposed to be. FBI Special Agent Cassandra Blake never let herself slip. Until the night she met him. Mysterious, devastatingly charming, and sinfully irresistible, Adrian Moretti was a stranger with secrets and a body built for sin. But when she shows up at a crime scene the next morning and finds him surrounded by blood and secrets, she learns the truth. Her one-night stand is the heir to the Moretti crime family. Now her mission is clear: infiltrate, expose, and take him down. But Adrian isn't just dangerous, he's magnetic. And as their worlds collide in a twisted game of lies and seduction, Cassandra must make an impossible choice: bring justice to a world of crime... or surrender to the man who could destroy her.
Chapter 1 The Stranger at Midnight
Cassandra Blake never did reckless.
Her life was built on precision, rules, protocol, and order. It was how she became one of the youngest FBI agents in the Bureau's Organized Crime Division. But that night, the city's neon glow and the thumping beat of the music seemed to wash away her doubts. For once, she let go of everything.
The nightclub was too loud, too hot, too crowded, exactly the kind of place she usually avoided. But her best friend had insisted she needed a night off. "You need to loosen up," Jenna had said, shoving a dress into her hands. "And preferably get laid."
And now, Cassandra found herself at the bar, half a glass of bourbon burning in her veins, feeling the bass throb through her chest. She should've gone home hours ago. But then she saw him.
He moved like a man who owned the world. Tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in all black, the stranger leaned against the bar with casual authority. His eyes (intense and smoky) met hers from across the room. A slow, knowing smile curved his lips. She looked away first, pulse skittering.
God, he was dangerous.
And yet, when he made his way toward her, she didn't move.
"You don't look like you belong here," he said, voice smooth as silk and laced with something darker.
"Maybe I don't," she replied, keeping her tone cool.
He smiled, eyes roaming her face. "Name?"
She hesitated. "Cassie." A half-truth.
"Adrian," he said. He extended a hand, but instead of shaking hers, he lifted it to his lips and brushed a kiss across her knuckles.
It should've made her laugh. It should've made her leave.
But it didn't.
They talked. Or flirted. She wasn't sure which. The conversation crackled with unspoken electricity. She didn't ask what he did. She didn't want to know. The mystery was intoxicating.
One hour later, she found herself pressed against the elevator wall of a downtown penthouse, Adrian's mouth on her throat, his hands everywhere.
"You're not shy," he murmured as her fingers pulled at the buttons on his shirt.
"Neither are you," she breathed.
They didn't make it to the bedroom. The living room was all marble and steel, cold and clean, until their clothes littered the floor. His body was sculpted, hard, and demanding, and when he kissed her, she forgot her own name.
He was relentless. Skilled. Every movement, every touch, was designed to unravel her. She'd never let anyone see her like this. Raw, exposed, undone.
And she didn't care.
She came apart in his arms with a cry, nails dragging down his back as his name fell from her lips like a secret.
When it was over, they lay tangled on the floor, sweat-slicked skin and shallow breaths.
He kissed her shoulder. "I want to see you again."
Cassie looked at him, heart still racing. "Maybe."
She slipped out before dawn, leaving no note, no name, no number. It was supposed to be a one-time mistake.
She never expected to see him again.
The crime scene smelled of blood and fresh gunpowder.
Cassie ducked under the police tape, her badge clipped to her belt, the morning sun casting sharp lines over the dead man slumped against the fountain in front of an opulent estate.
The FBI had been monitoring the Moretti family for over a year for the crimes of arms deals, racketeering, whispers of assassinations. But until now, nothing stuck. This murder was different. It was brazen. Loud. A message.
She flipped through the preliminary file. The victim was a Moretti associate: Luca Romano, suspected enforcer.
Then she heard the voice.
"We didn't invite the feds to this party."
She turned and nearly dropped the file.
Adrian.
He stood a few feet away, dressed in a tailored suit, flanked by bodyguards. His face was the same, except now it was colder. Harder.
"What the hell," she whispered.
His eyes narrowed. He recognized her. A flicker of surprise, then control. "Cassie," he said.
She straightened, all emotion buried behind her professional mask. "Special Agent Cassandra Blake. I'm leading this investigation."
The smirk he gave her was dangerous. "Well, isn't that a twist."
She felt the eyes of the police, the agents, the witnesses. She had to stay calm. Professional.
But inside? She was spiraling.
Because the man she'd slept with wasn't just a charming stranger.
He was Adrian Moretti.
Heir to the most powerful mafia empire on the East Coast.
And her newest target.
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