PROLOGUE.

WARNING!

This is a Mafia erotic content and this book contains violence as much as it contains BDSM.

There is so much WAR, LOVE, HATE and OBSESSION. The Male lead is an extremist. Kills without remorse, and of course love without boundaries( Just the female lead.) This book is not for readers younger than 18.

Drystan presence screamed power, darkness, and danger as he leaned against his black Audi A7l with folded arms, waiting for Rosealba at the front of her office. It was something he had never done in his life. He never had to wait for anyone, never. He was Italy's most feared, he gave orders and they were carried out in micros seconds, but with her, there was a slithering desire to see, to feel, and to hold dearly.

Since the day his eyes crossed her direction, he had been a different person. His darkness that didn't have limitations was suddenly limited to her. He found himself always at her flower store, like a homeless being, craving and yearning for her presence.

Just like every other time, he didn't want to miss out on the bright beautiful smile that would engulf her face if she won the contest of a book she spent her entire year writing. Even though he had driven a stake into the heart of a traitor and killed him less than the way that would satisfy his haunting heart, he had driven an hour down here because her presence was like tiny brilliant stars that brightened his darkest heart.

And when his eyes caught the sight of her, a muscle pinched in his jaws and satisfaction slited through him.

She looked drop-dead gorgeous than anybody ever looked in a black pant, a black turtle neck top, and a tan coat that complemented the glow of her pale white skin. She walked out of the glass door with a file in her hand, wearing that big bright smile and guiding his weary heart with shores of hope. In his world, no one ever smiled this beautifully— no one ever deserved to smile.

Her smile was a melody that played on her lips, a silent symphony that whispered peace—the peace he never knew he needed until her emergence in his life.

As she walked closer, her smile, beautiful petals, unfolding kindness and warmth into him, he suddenly recalled last night—the glow in her big doe eye, as he flipped her over to have a hold of her beautiful expression while he fucked her hard and fast grunting hotly into the air, something he never did before.

He had not been able to get through whatever happened last night. For 12 good years Drystan had believed that sex didn't involve emotions or feelings. He fucked, mostly from behind, hard and fast, with no light, because darkness was etched to every part of his existence and they were rules that he had held dearly, until three nights back. He had kissed her, and even done the sweet nothing he thought he would never do, and when he buried his huge self into her tight willing p***y, he had called out home. He had f**ked her, hard and fast, scared that she might break into pieces, but she proved him wrong. Turned out his sweet little blondy was a slut and he had never been this happy to be wrong. Her slim, tight cunt, took him perfectly, providing him the pleasure no one ever gave him. Since the day he met her, she became his, and she had the chance to still run, but now? She was his possession! His obsession and everything he existed for.

Finally, he owned his human, and the world would be perks of aches if anyone dared his obsession.