Elena Russo is a master thief and assassin, driven by revenge. Her mission is to infiltrate the life of mafia billionaire Lorenzo Salvatore, whom she believes is responsible for her father’s murder. Under the guise of an art dealer, Elena enters his world, but the lines between duty and desire blur as she uncovers hidden truths, including Lorenzo’s vulnerability and complex relations. When sparks fly between them, Elena finds herself caught between duty and desire. As she uncovers his deepest secrets, including a hidden child and a dangerous rival bent on his destruction, Elena realizes that her enemy is not the man she thought he was. Torn between her lingering feelings for Ethan, the FBI informant with his own dark agenda, and her undeniable attraction to Lorenzo, Elena must decide: can she risk her heart to get her revenge, or will she lose everything in the heist of her life? In a world of betrayals, lies, and shattered loyalties, love may be the deadliest game of all.
View MoreThe evening air hummed with tension as Elena stepped aboard La Regina. The opulence of the yacht matched the grandeur of the gala she'd attended days before, with a guest list that read like a Who’s Who of society's elite. Tonight, though, she was Vincent Macini's co-host, on paper. They’d been together for months now—partners in crime, occasional lovers, but always walking the razor’s edge of mutual benefit and distrust.Dressed in a tailored black tuxedo, Vincent’s bowtie was slightly askew, his sandy brown hair styled in a windswept look that added to his roguish charm. The way he carried himself with a cocky flair always rubbed at Elena the wrong way."Stay close, Elena," Vincent murmured, his tone laced with possessiveness as he grabbed her arm. She arched an eyebrow, slipping her arm out of his grasp with practiced ease. “I wouldn’t dream of wandering off, darling.” Her smile was tight, and the sarcasm in her voice sharp enough to cut.Vincent's eyes narrowed briefly before he
“You’ve gotten sloppy, Elena.”The voice cut through the darkness like a blade, sharp and unnerving. Instinctively, her fingers brushed against the cool metal of the knife handle hidden beneath the silk of her gown, the fabric smooth yet restrictive.Ethan Price emerged from the shadows, his tall, athletic frame imposing as it broke through the dim light, casting a long silhouette that seemed to swallowed the space around him. He wore a fitted black shirt that emphasized the breadth of his shoulders, and dark jeans that clung to his legs. As he pushed off against the wall, arms loosely crossed over his chest, her breath hitched at the sight of the revolver pointing directly at her.Elena swallowed, taking in the familiar contours of his face—the sharp jawline, the intense stare that pierced through her defenses. Despite the circumstances, part of her couldn’t help but admire the way he carried himself. It was the blend of danger and allure that had drawn her in before.His dirty blond
The invitation had been unexpected. One moment, she was mingling at Lorenzo’s exclusive, her laughter blending seamlessly. The next, Nico had appeared at her side, his presence disrupting the carefully cultivated ambiance. “Lorenzo wants you to see something,” he’d said, “follow me.” “Come on, finish him!” Elena hovered near the edge of the pit, her posture relaxed but senses on high alert. She felt Nico’s eyes on her, hot like a blade scraping across her skin.Blood. Sweat. The roar of a frenzied crowd. The underground fight club pulsed with a feral energy that seeped into the walls, filling the air with the stench of violence and desperation. Men cheered and jeered, their voices blending into a cacophony of madness, as two fighters savaged each other in the center ring. “Enjoying the show?” Nico’s voice was low and dangerous. Elena didn’t flinch. “Not really my kind of entertainment.” One man went down hard, his face a crimson mask of blood. “I prefer something… less barbari
Unaccounted variables were always a pain in the ass, even though it’d never hindered her mission.Elena swallowed hard, her body stiffening as she maintained her fighting stance, every nerve on high alert. She hated staring contests—especially when she was caught off guard—but what stood before her made her cautious, not defensive.She took in the small details—the disheveled hair, the pale pink pattern of her pajamas dotted with tiny stars, the soft scuffing sound of bare feet on the polished floor. There was something unsettling about the child’s calmness, as she stared back, her deep brown eyes unblinking, and her small figure framed in the dim light from the corridor.Dark, curly hair spilled over her shoulders, tangled and mussed from sleep. Her pink pajamas hung loosely on her frame, one sleeve twisted, and a teddy bear with one missing eye dangled from her small hand, its worn fur telling of years of love and neglect.Elena’s face burned as the assertive look drifted upward, he
Elena stepped out of her doorway, the porch light casting a warm glow. She walked down the path, past the carefully arranged flowerbeds. The sidewalk led her through streets lined with tidy lawns and ornate mailboxes. As she reached the corner, a taxi slowed to a stop beside her. She got in, giving the driver a brief nod.As the taxi navigated through quiet streets, Elena observed the scenery outside the window. The elegant homes and manicured lawns soon gave way to strip malls and neon signs. She let out a sigh and directed her thoughts to the rendezvous, a calculated risk in her carefully managed world.At Broad and Market, she exited the taxi and scanned the crowded sidewalk. Elena ducked into an alleyway, every sense on high alert. Long, ominous shadows stretched across the deserted street, cast by the flickering streetlights. The air reeked of street food, exhaust fumes, and decay, wafting from crumbling brick and rusty dumpsters.She paused, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. T
Elena adjusted her mask, the satin cool against her skin as she scanned the glittering ballroom. Laughter and music mingled with the scent of champagne and perfume, creating an intoxicating atmosphere. If her mother could see her now—dressed to the nines among the city’s elite—she’d have a heart attack. But here she was, every inch the socialite, even while she plotted her next heist.From the balcony of the private viewing room, Elena took in the sea of masked faces that were in attendance. The Gilded Circle Club was ablaze with anonymity, each attendee hiding behind sequins and feathers.Tonight, the masquerade ball hosted by the state itself was a masterful illusion. The celebration of the Salvatore brothers' philanthropic work.On paper, Lorenzo and Nico Salvatore were pillars of society—legitimate businessmen and generous patrons of the arts. Yet, Elena knew the truth: their empire was built on shadows and deceit.To her, the Salvatores epitomized New Jersey's double standard, wh
Elena Romano understood firsthand that in the world of thieves, everything had a price—except resurrecting dead men. If that had been on the table, her father would still be alive, and Lorenzo Salvatore wouldn't be on her hit list.Her olive-toned skin blended with the darkness, making her almost invisible. For the right price, anything could be bought on the thriving black market of the underworld—maps, blueprints, access codes. Her underworld connections yielded the blueprints to the Salvatore estate. It was pretty easy to kill someone in their own home, no matter how secure they thought they were. The Mafia bosses weren't immune to secrets sold on the black market, though it was pricier to gain information on them; a slip-up could mean a dead body turning up the next day. She instinctively rubbed the faint scar below her collarbone, a thin line etched from a heist gone wrong—a constant reminder that she was no stranger to danger.A low chuckle escaped her lips. Lorenzo probably tho
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