The Mafia Kings Obsession Dark Romance

The city beneath him buzzed like a restless beast....horns, sirens, neon lights slicing through the fog...but up here, high above Manhattan's chaos, everything was silent, cold, controlled and untouchable.                                                               

The top floor of the De Luca tower was all black walls and silence. A sleek empire in steel and leather. The scent of aged bourbon lingered in the air, mingling with power and polish. Not a single item cluttered the massive desk; just a crystal tumbler of half-finished bourbon and a matte-black phone. Everything about this room screamed domination.                          

And seated behind the desk, a king without mercy.... Vincenzo De Luca.

Thirty-two. Italian American blood. Asian stock mogul by name, underworld emperor by nature. His tailored charcoal suit hugged a body carved from discipline, not vanity. Broad shoulders, razor-cut jaw, light-olive skin that glowed under low light. But it was his eyes; golden-brown, unreadable, predatory; that held the world hostage.

He didn't run a business. He ran a damn kingdom, banks, brothels, borders. Politicians bowed. Rivals vanished. He trusted no one, not even his own shadow.

His eyes skimmed across a confidential document when Liam walked in.

"Sir," Liam said, placing a black leather folder on the desk. "This is the candidate for the new executive Personal Assistant position. Her name's Seraphina Hill."

Vincenzo barely glanced up. But when he opened the folder, everything stopped.

A photo stared back at him. It wasn't glamour that caught his eye. No overdone makeup, no airbrushed confidence. She was caught mid-turn, hair cascading over one shoulder, eyes wide and soft like dusk, skin dusky and untouched by artificial light. Her lips full and parted slightly, making his throat tighten.

She looked... real. Unaware of how beautiful she was. Dangerous in her innocence.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing.

He flipped the page.

Age: Twenty-three.

Background: Orphaned.

Education: English Literature graduate.

Work: Freelance assistant. Clean record.

Debt: None.

Family: None.

"She's an orphan?" he asked, his voice low.

"Yes, sir," Liam replied. "Her parents died in a car crash when she was nine. Raised in a church-sponsored shelter. Quiet life, no red flags."

"And you trust her?"

"Like family," Liam said, standing straight. "She's loyal, obedient. Has no idea who we are, thinks it's a corporate position."

Vincenzo leaned back, his eyes flicking back to the photo. Something in him itched. A curiosity he hadn't felt in years. "She'll stay at the villa," he said. "I want her under my roof. Under my control. I'll pay her twenty thousand a month. Add allowances."

Liam hesitated.

He shut the folder. "I want to meet her. Tomorrow. Make it happen."

********

Next Morning – De Luca Estate, Upper East Side

The estate stood like a fortress, draped in luxury and secrets. Beyond the towering black gates and manicured hedges, the villa stretched out like a five-star resort wrapped around a military-grade bunker.

Inside, marble floors gleamed under golden light. Security cameras blinked quietly. Everything smelt of power, wealth... and danger.

Outside, by the infinity pool that overlooked the city, Vincenzo swam like a panther in water. Every stroke precise, every movement deliberate. Tattoos coiled around his muscular arms and across his sculpted chest, dark ink against olive skin. Water shimmered on his shoulders as he cut through it with effortless control.

On the edge of the pool lounged Emma, the villa's personal assistant...or, as she preferred to see herself, more than that. Dressed in a barely-there bikini, her legs dipped in the pool, red lips curved into a sultry smile as she watched him.

"Vincenzo, baby..." she purred, trailing her fingers along her thighs. "You need help unwinding?"

He surfaced, slicking his hair back, face unreadable. "You never wait for permission."

"You don't seem like a man who says no," she whispered.

She slipped into the water like a siren, hips swaying, breasts rising above the surface. She swam up to him, wrapped her arms around his slick torso, and pressed her body against his, her fingers gliding down his spine.

"You smell like sex," she breathed against his neck.

He chuckled, dark and slow. "Good. I'm not looking for romance."

Her lips skimmed his jaw. He didn't flinch, but he didn't lean in either. She began massaging his shoulders, slow and sensual.

Then.....

Knock. Knock.