I lock my phone after texting Dad with a vague excuse about needing to stay longer to deal with a situation for Stefano. The lie leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, but I can't risk my father finding out the reason and having him whisk me away to Florida before I find out why Stefano suddenly has an interest in my well-being.

"Why a diner and one in your territory, too?" I ask, breaking the tense silence hanging between us. I drop the laminated menu on the table with a thud, the sound echoing off the diner's tiled walls. Stefano's piercing green eyes bore into me from across the booth; his jaw clenched tight. The tension crackles in the air, suffocating me.

The diner is a well-known neutral ground for Cosa Nostra dealings under the watchful eye of the Costanzo family. No rival gang would dare make a move here.

"You!" He snaps as he shoves his menu aside. The cheap vinyl covering crinkles loudly.

"Me?" I lean forward, my brow furrowing. The pungent aroma of greasy diner food assaults my nostrils, making my stomach churn.

His eyes lock with mine, two green flames burning bright. "I don't want your father to have my head if anything were to happen to you. And most places are closed this late."

I bristle at his implication that I need protecting. "Hmm, I see. And not because you actually care about my safety," I challenge, surprising myself with the daring words that slip out. I don't know what possessed me to say that.

Stefano's face remains stoic, betraying no hint of emotion. "No, I don't give two shits about you," he states flatly, his eyes cold and unreadable.

The sting of his harsh words slices through me like a well-honed blade. "Okay," I murmur, feeling foolish as I snatch up the menu again, using it as a flimsy shield against his penetrating stare.

I study the greasy laminated pages with false interest as the clattering sounds of the diner swirl around me - the hissing fryers, the clanking dishes, the murmured voices of the night staff. Anything to avoid looking at Stefano and seeing that infuriating indifference etched on his chiseled features.

Movement outside the streaked diner window catches my eye. A sleek black sedan with tinted windows rolls up and parks haphazardly in the middle of the street, it's positioning directly in line with our booth, setting off alarm bells. I whip my head toward Stefano, my mouth open to speak, but his expression has transformed into one of lethal focus.

"Down now! Abbasso!" he shouts, vaulting across the table in one fluid motion. His hand clamps down on my wrist like a vise as he wrenches me off the cracked vinyl seat seconds before the first hail of gunfire shatters the diner windows. Shards of glass rain down in a deadly shower as Stefano flattens me to the sticky tiled floor, his solid body shielding me.

"Stay down. No matter what, don't fucking move," he growls in my ear, his warm breath fanning across my cheek. I hear the metallic click of a gun being cocked as he shifts, retrieving his Glock from its holster at his back.

Panic seizes my chest as he moves to stand. "Where are you going?" I cry, grabbing at his arm with trembling fingers. "You could get killed out there! Stay here!" I beg, my voice shrill with terror.

A cocky smirk curves his lips as he leans in close, his mouth brushing the shell of my ear. "This isn't my first rodeo, Andrea," He murmurs. Then he's gone, disappearing into the chaos as bullets continue to riddle the diner. I squeeze my eyes shut and clamp my hands over my ears, trying in vain to block out the deafening roar of gunfire. My heart thunders against my ribcage as I pray fervently for Stefano's life, the man who simultaneously infuriates and enthralls me. I may want to strangle him half the time, but I don't want him dead. Oh God, please don't let him die before I've had a chance to fuck him. Situations like this weren't unfamiliar to me, yet that didn't make them any easier to endure.

The gunshots eventually cease, leaving an eerie silence in their wake. I hold my breath, every nerve ending, screaming as I wait for Stefano to reappear. But he doesn't. Disobeying his order, I slowly rise up on my elbows to survey the destruction.

The once charming 24-hour diner is now an apocalyptic nightmare - the air choked with plumes of drywall dust, every surface coated in a blanket of glittering glass shards. Crimson streaks and pools of blood paint a grotesque abstract across the checkered floor tiles.

"Stefano?" I call out in a trembling voice, pushing up to my feet and taking a few unsteady steps further into the wreckage. A body lies crumpled in the far corner, unmoving. My breath catches in my throat as I make my way over, dread and nausea churning in my gut. Please don't let it be him...

I reach out with a shaking hand to turn the body over. Relief washes over me in a dizzying wave when I see it's not Stefano, just some unfortunate henchman.

As I straighten up, a strong hand clamps down on my wrist, making me shriek in surprise. On instinct, I whirl around and drive my fist squarely into my assailant's face.

"Cazzo Andrea!" Stefano curses, reeling back as he clutches his now bleeding nose. "Remind me never to sneak up on you again."

I ignore his gruff words, too overwhelmed to care about propriety, as I launch myself into his arms. He staggers back a step at the force of my embrace but doesn't push me away. After a charged moment, his arms circle my waist, holding me flush against his rock-solid frame.

"Twice in one day," he murmurs against the crown of my head, his tone a mixture of exasperation and grudging amusement. "At this rate, I should be getting paid for this shit."

I pull back just far enough to scowl up at him, but he only smiles crookedly in response, that infuriatingly smug look I've come to know so well. Shaking my head, I allow the faintest of smiles to tug at my own lips before he takes my hand and leads me out of the decimated diner and into the car. He opens the passenger door for me, and I slide in, sinking into the plush seat as he circles around to the driver's side.

The powerful engine rumbles to life, and we peel away from the curb, putting the chaos of the diner behind us. I watch the neon-lit city blur past the tinted windows, the flashing lights and shadowed alleys taking on an almost dreamlike quality after the adrenaline-fueled events of the night.

Eventually, Stefano pulls into an underground garage of a towering high-rise apartment building in the heart of downtown. We ride the elevator in silence up to the 30th floor before he unlocks the door to a sprawling penthouse suite.

I step inside, my heels sinking into the plush cream carpet as I take in my surroundings with an appreciative sweep of my eyes. The interior is expensively decorated in a sleek, minimalist style - polished concrete floors, exposed brickwork, and walls of glass framing a breathtaking view of the city skyline.

"Your room is the first door on the right down that hallway," Stefano says, gesturing down a corridor off the main living area. "The clothes in the closet belong to Aurora, but I doubt she'll mind if you borrow something to sleep in tonight before we can get your things from your hotel."

"She probably won't mind," I agree with a nod.

"Good. And if you're still hungry, help yourself to anything in the kitchen. I'll be upstairs sleeping unless you're, you know, actively dying or some shit. Don't disturb me otherwise." He says before disappearing up the spiral staircase to the second level.

Letting out a weary sigh, I head down the hallway to the guest room. It's just as stylishly appointed as the rest of the penthouse, with its plush, queen-sized bed topped with a dove grey coverlet and a wall of windows overlooking the twinkling city lights. An oversized chair sits angled in one corner, looking out through the floor-to-ceiling glass.

I cross to the walk-in closet and rifle through the racks until I find a silky camisole and shorts set that looks like it might fit. I carry them into the attached ensuite bathroom with its marble countertops and glass-enclosed shower. Twisting the rainfall showerhead on full-blast, I quickly strip off my ruined clothes from earlier and step under the scalding spray, letting it sluice away a night's worth of grime and tension.

Once I'm clean and redressed in Aurora's pajamas. I crawl into the luxurious bed, wrapping myself in the plush bedding.

I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be another long, complicated day. But at least I made it through this one alive, thanks to the frustrating, arrogant, inexplicably compelling man sleeping just above me.

***

The following day, I wake slowly, blinking against the gentle rays of sunlight filtering through the gauzy curtains. A sense of tranquility settles over me as I take in the plush bedding and stylish decor of the guest room. For a few precious moments, I allow myself to simply exist in this cocooned state of peace before facing the new day.

The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee eventually lures me from the luxurious bed. I stretch languidly before my bare feet meet the thick, soft carpet as I make my way to the ensuite bathroom. The rainshower's steady stream washes over me in a warm, soothing embrace, rinsing away any lingering tension.

Dressed in a nice sundress I find in the walk-in closet, I venture out to the main living area in search of breakfast. The mouthwatering scent grows stronger, leading me to the sleek kitchen. A lovely maid greets me with a warm smile as she plates up a feast of frittatas, fresh fruit, and flaky pastries.

"Buongiorno, signorina," she says pleasantly, pouring me a steaming cup of the rich, dark brew.

I return her smile. "Buongiorno," I reply, accepting the mug and wrapping my hands around it to leech its warmth.

Once I've cleared my plate, I wander the sprawling penthouse, searching for its owner. The muffled clang of weights draws me toward what I can only assume is a gym. I follow the sounds down a hallway to an open doorway, hovering in the entrance as my gaze lands on Stefano.

He stands shirtless in a beam of hazy morning light, sculpted muscles rippling beneath tanned skin as he curls a barbell in one fluid, controlled motion. A sheen of sweat glistens enticingly on his chest and arms, lending an almost ethereal glow to the intricate tattoos swirling across his toned flesh.

I must make some small, unconscious sound because his head whips around, those piercing green eyes immediately locking onto me. One dark brow arches as he takes in my undoubtedly dumbstruck expression, a slow, knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his sinfully perfect mouth.

"Close your mouth, Andrea," he rumbles, his voice a deep, gravelly caress that sends a shiver skating down my spine. "The whole world doesn't need to know how attracted you are to me."

Heat rushes to my cheeks as I snap my jaw shut with an audible click. Dammit, I didn't even realize I was gaping at him like a fool. I tear my eyes away, struggling to regain my composure as I feel his smoldering gaze undressing me.

"What do you want?" he asks, a hint of amusement still coloring his tone as he strides closer. The muscles of his abdomen ripple with each lazy, confident step, utterly mesmerizing.

I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry as parchment as I fight the urge to reach out and trace the hard planes and grooves with my fingertips. "N-Nothing," I manage to stammer, unable to tear my eyes away from his body.

One dark brow arches higher. "Goodbye then," he utters, brushing past me without a second glance.

It takes me a good second to shake off the daze, returning from my reverie. I spin around hastily, following his retreating footsteps.

"Wait," I call after him.

He pauses, slowly turning to face me with an exaggerated roll of those broad shoulders. "What is it?"

"I wanted to ask who attacked you last night."

Stefano's expression shutters closed, all traces of amusement vanishing. "Such matters are none of your business, Andrea," he states flatly.

His casual dismissal is like a slap in the face. My father's antiquated belief that women have no place in mafia dealings crashes over me in a sickening wave. I open my mouth, fully intending to unleash the torrent of anger burning in my chest, but what emerges is a defeated whisper.

"I should've known you were one of them."

Disappointment and disillusionment war within me. I've always found Stefano's strength and confidence intoxicating. But now I realize the arrogant indifference cloaking those qualities is just as much a part of who he is.

He cocks his head, gaze narrowing. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I said." I shake my head, feeling foolish for ever thinking he might be different. Spinning on my heel, I stalk past him, letting my shoulder connect solidly with his arm in a petty gesture of defiance.

I'm so angry with him in this moment. With myself for being so blind. I always thought there was more to Stefano than the typical macho bluster. That's part of what drew me to him in the first place. But now I see I was wrong. And I couldn't be more relieved that I never threw myself at his feet.