The Mafia King's Temptation

Lucia.

My head was pounding.

The sunlight streaming through unfamiliar gold-threaded curtains felt like needles in my eyes, and every inch of my body ached in ways I didn't want to think about. I groaned, trying to piece together where I was and how I'd gotten here. The sheets beneath me were silk – expensive silk – and the air smelled of sandalwood and something else. Something masculine.

Julia Romano's wedding. Right. 

The celebration of the year, where the city's most powerful families had gathered to maintain our delicate facade of peace. The Romanos had spared no expense, transforming the Grand Plaza Hotel's ballroom into something out of a fairy tale. White roses everywhere, crystal chandeliers dripping with diamonds that probably weren't fake – after all, the Romanos never did anything halfway. Neither did we, the Valentinis, their greatest rivals and occasional allies in this city's underground empire.

I remembered the champagne, way too much of it, flowing like water as both families played their parts perfectly. Smiling, toasting, pretending we hadn't been at each other's throats just months ago over territory disputes in the harbor district. My eldest brother Marco had warned me to be careful, to watch my drinking. "Remember who they are, sorella," he'd whispered, his dark eyes serious beneath his perpetually furrowed brows. But I'd laughed it off. I was Lucia Valentini. I could handle myself.

A soft exhale beside me proved just how wrong I'd been.

I turned my head slowly, dreading what I'd find. There, sleeping peacefully on white silk sheets, was a man. A very naked man. His dark hair fell across his forehead in perfect waves, and his sculptured chest – all golden skin and hard muscle – rose and fell with each breath. A tattoo of a crown wrapped in thorns curved around his left bicep, and I knew without looking that on his back would be the Romano family crest. I'd seen it last night, traced it with my fingers as we...

Oh God.

Then he shifted, and I saw his face clearly.

Dante Romano.

My heart stopped. No. No, no, no. Of all the men in that ballroom, I'd gone home with Dante Romano? The eldest son of my family's greatest rivals? The notorious playboy who was running for mayor and whose reputation with women was legendary even in our jaded social circles?

I sat up abruptly, clutching the sheet to my chest, my mind racing. This was bad. This was catastrophically bad. In our world, in the world of old families and older traditions, this kind of thing didn't just happen. Women from families like mine didn't have one-night stands, especially not with men from rival families. My brothers would lose their minds. And Papa...

"Lucia!" A sharp knock at the door made me jump. "Are you in there?"

Papa's voice. I'd know it anywhere. Since we lost Mama, he'd become even more protective, especially of me, his only daughter. The princess of the Valentini family, as the papers liked to call me. But right now, his voice sent pure terror through my veins.

"Just a minute!" I called out, my voice scratchy. I looked frantically around the room. My dress from last night was draped over a chair, my thousand-dollar Louboutins scattered across the plush carpet. Evidence of things I desperately didn't want to remember.

Next to the chair, I could see Dante's tuxedo jacket, the white rose boutonnière now crushed and wilting. Flashes of memory hit me – his hands on my waist, the heat in his eyes when he'd asked me to "get some air," the way he'd kissed me in the elevator like he was starving for it.

Beside me, Dante's eyes fluttered open. Dark brown, almost black, they fixed on me with instant recognition. No trace of surprise or confusion. Just calculated assessment, like he was already ten steps ahead in whatever game this was about to become. That was the thing about Dante Romano. He always looked like he knew exactly what was going to happen next.

"Papa's outside," I hissed at him, panic making my voice shake. "And if Marco, Leo, and Antonio are with him, which they probably are because they never let him go anywhere alone these days, we're both dead."

Dante sat up slowly, the sheet pooling at his waist. A smirk played at the corners of his perfectly sculpted mouth. "Well," he said, his voice deep and annoyingly composed, "this should be interesting."

"Interesting?" I wanted to scream. "This is a disaster! Do you have any idea what they'll do?"

"I have some idea," he replied, reaching for his pants with infuriating casualness. "Given that your brother Antonio tried to shoot me last year."

"You were moving in on our casino operations!"

Another knock, more insistent this time. "Lucia Maria Valentini, open this door right now."

I closed my eyes, willing this all to be a nightmare. But when I opened them again, nothing had changed. I was still in a hotel room with my family's worst enemy, my father and overprotective brothers were still outside, and my life was still completely, utterly ruined.

"I can hear voices in there!" That was Leo, my middle brother, always the hothead. "I swear to God, if someone's in there with her..."

"Leo, calm down," Marco's steady voice came through next. He was the rational one, always trying to keep the peace. "Let Papa handle this."

"Like hell I will!" Antonio, the youngest of my brothers but possibly the most dangerous, chimed in. "If someone touched our sister..."

I jumped out of bed, wrapping the sheet around me like armor. "What are we going to do?" I whispered frantically to Dante, who was now mostly dressed and looking far too amused for someone who might be about to get shot.

He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, somehow making it look perfectly styled. "We," he said, emphasizing the word in a way that made my stomach flip, "are going to handle this like the professionals we are."

"Professionals?" I grabbed my dress, trying to figure out how to get it on while keeping the sheet in place. 

"Lucia!" Papa's voice had taken on that quiet, dangerous quality that meant he was really angry. "You have ten seconds before I call hotel security."

Whatever happened next, I knew one thing for certain – my life as I knew it was over. The question was, what would rise from its ashes?

"Five seconds, Lucia!"

I took a deep breath, channeling every lesson in composure I'd ever learned as a Valentini. Head high, shoulders back, never let them see you sweat. That's what Mama used to say.

"Ready or not," I muttered, reaching for the door handle.

Dante's hand caught mine, his touch sending unwanted sparks through my body. "Trust me," he said softly.

I almost laughed. Trust a Romano? That would be my second mistake in twenty-four hours.

The door burst open with a crash. I realized I didn't have much choice.

Dante.

I never lost control. Ever.

Control was everything in our world. It was what separated the winners from the losers. The living from the dead.

My father taught me that lesson early. "A Romano man always stays in control," he'd say, straightening my tie before Sunday mass. "Of his emotions. His actions. His enemies."

I'd mastered that lesson by age ten. 

Now, at thirty-two, I ran half of this city's underground operations. The legitimate half of my business empire stretched from real estate to shipping. Next month, I'd be announced as the youngest mayor in the city's history. 

The evidence I had on my opponents would make sure of that.

But this morning, looking at the woman in my bed, I knew I'd slipped. Just once. One night of too much champagne at my sister's wedding. One moment of weakness when Lucia Valentini had looked at me across the dance floor, fire in her eyes.

Lucia fucking Valentini.

She was everything I shouldn't want. Everything I'd been trained to avoid. The princess of our rival family. A liability.

But damn, she was beautiful when she was angry.

Right now, she was wrapped in my sheets, panic written across her face as her father knocked on the door. Her dark hair fell in waves down her back. Her lips were still swollen from my kisses.

I remembered how she'd tasted last night. Like champagne and danger.

"What are we going to do?" she whispered, those big brown eyes wide with fear.

I already knew exactly what we were going to do.

Yesterday had been perfect. Julia's wedding went off without a hitch. My eldest sister, always the romantic, had gotten her fairy tale. I'd made sure of it. Anyone who might have caused trouble had been quietly warned off. 

That's what I did. I solved problems.

I protected my family. Always.

My three younger sisters were my weakness. Julia, Sofia, and Maria. They were the only ones who saw behind my mask. The only ones who knew I wasn't just the cold-blooded heir to the Romano empire.

"You need love too, Dante," Julia had said last night, tipsy on champagne and happiness. "Not just power."

I'd laughed it off. Love was a weakness. Another thing my father had taught me.

But then I'd seen Lucia.

She'd worn red. A dress that hugged every curve. When she moved, every man in the room watched. Including me.

I'd watched her for years. From a distance. At society events. Family gatherings where our families played nice. She was the forbidden fruit. The one woman I couldn't touch.

Until last night.

Now her father was outside my door. Vincent Valentini. The only man in this city who could challenge my father's power. And his sons – Marco, the strategist. Leo, the warrior. Antonio, the wild card.

All of them ready to spill blood over their sister's honor.

I could handle this two ways.

Option one: Deny everything. Start a war. Watch both our families tear each other apart.

Option two: Turn this disaster into an opportunity.

I looked at Lucia again. She was beautiful. Smart. Well-connected. The papers called her the Princess of the Underground. The darling of our dark society.

She'd make a perfect mayor's wife.

And a marriage alliance between our families? That would change everything.

The harbor dispute would end. The casino territory wars would stop. Both our families would profit.

Perfect solution.

"Marry me," I said.

Her head snapped up. "What?"

I stood, not bothering with modesty as I reached for my clothes. The sheet fell away, and I saw her eyes flicker over my body before she looked away. A muscle jumped in her jaw.

"It's the logical solution," I said, pulling on my pants. "Your family saves face. My campaign gets legitimacy. Both our families benefit."

"You're insane," she hissed.

Maybe. But I was also right.

I could already see it playing out. The society wedding of the decade. The joining of two powerful families. The press would eat it up. The old money families would approve. The voters would love it.

My phone buzzed. A text from my campaign manager about latest polls. Another from my security chief about a shipment at the docks. A third from Sofia, asking where I'd disappeared to after the wedding.

I ignored them all.

Right now, I had a more pressing situation to handle.

"LUCIA!" Her father's voice was getting dangerous.

I watched her jump. Watched fear flicker across her face. But there was steel there too. Fire. That's what had drawn me to her last night. 

I finished dressing, every movement precise. My cufflinks – gold, with the Romano crest. My watch – a Patek Philippe worth more than most cars. My ring – black diamond, marking me as heir.

Every piece armor. Every piece a message.

"Dante." Lucia's voice was soft now. Dangerous. "If you think I'm going to marry you just because—"

"Five seconds, Lucia!" her father called.

I moved to her. Caught her chin in my hand. Felt her pulse jump under my fingers.

"Trust me," I said.

She didn't. Smart girl.

But she didn't have a choice. Neither of us did.

I never lost control.

And I wasn't about to start now.