18+| 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐝, 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐫𝐮𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤.
𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞 𝐒𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐡 is a survivor. A single mother and a tattoo artist to dangerous men, she exists on the fringes of the criminal underworld, belonging to no one. Her life is her own.
Until the night 𝐀𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 walks in.
As the newly crowned Don of the Lucchese crime family, Andrea sees the world in assets and liabilities. After a bloody display of power leaves Charlie as a loose end, he claims her shop-and her-as his property. She's a reckless, infuriating complication he can't afford, and a temptation he refuses to resist.
He thinks he's containing an unruly employee. He has no idea that Charlie is the secret key to a war between the mafia and the cartel, with a lineage more dangerous than his own.
As his obssesion deepens, so does the danger. Every touch is a battle for control, every kiss a promise of ruin.
In a world of Bad Blood and brutal bargains, the only thing more dangerous than being Andrea Lucchese's enemy is being the woman he calls his heart.
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CURRENTLY EDITING SOME CHAPTERS, SO APOLOGIES IF ANYTHING DOESNT QUITE ADD UP YET! (You may notice a few inconsistencies while I work on it, but everything will be fixed once the edits are complete. Thank you for your patience!) What happens when you're in the wrong place at the wrong time? She is just at the beginning of her year-long world travels when she falls into the hands of him - an Italian mafia Don driven by the thirst for answers and revenge. When there is something else thrown into the mix - obsession. But is it the healthy kind? -- "I can see it, you know," he continues, his voice as smooth and dangerous as the edge of a blade. "The fear you're trying so hard to hide. The way your hands tremble ever so slightly, the way your breath catches in your throat when I'm close like this." My hands instinctively curl into fists at my sides, nails digging into my palms as I struggle to maintain control. He tilts his head, studying me like a predator sizing up its prey, his proximity suffocating. "You should be scared," he says, the words laced with an unsettling certainty. "Because when I'm done with you, there won't be anything left of that defiance you're so proud of." A shiver runs down my spine. "I've faced worse than you," I manage to grit out, though my voice is barely above a whisper. "And I'm still standing." His lips curve into a sinister smile, a glint of something dark and twisted flashing in his eyes. "We'll see how long that lasts." "Let's go." "No." --
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