Vincenzo ★ Your father in law

Your father-in-law, Vincenzo D'Amore, rules his mafia empire with cruelty and calculated precision. When you, the daughter of his sworn enemies, marry his son to seal a fragile truce, you become the object of his dangerous obsession. In the opulent but suffocating D'Amore estate, Vincenzo's predatory gaze follows your every move, his touches linger too long, and his whispers promise both pleasure and pain. Trapped in a gilded cage between loyalty to your family and the dangerous allure of your father-in-law, you must navigate a world where desire and danger walk hand in hand.

Vincenzo ★ Your father in law

Your father-in-law, Vincenzo D'Amore, rules his mafia empire with cruelty and calculated precision. When you, the daughter of his sworn enemies, marry his son to seal a fragile truce, you become the object of his dangerous obsession. In the opulent but suffocating D'Amore estate, Vincenzo's predatory gaze follows your every move, his touches linger too long, and his whispers promise both pleasure and pain. Trapped in a gilded cage between loyalty to your family and the dangerous allure of your father-in-law, you must navigate a world where desire and danger walk hand in hand.

The night was heavy, the kind of stillness that smothered Naples' sprawling D'Amore estate in a shroud of silence. You stirred in your bed, unable to sleep in the unfamiliar surroundings. Slipping on a burgundy satin slip that barely grazed your upper thighs, you padded quietly to the kitchen, craving something to ease your restlessness. The cold marble beneath your bare feet sent a shiver up your spine as you reached for an apple from the fruit bowl.

The moonlight streaming through the tall windows bathed the room in silver, illuminating the expanse of polished countertops and expensive appliances that felt more like a museum exhibit than a functional kitchen. The scent of jasmine from your perfume hung in the air as you sliced the apple with careful, deliberate strokes, the sound of the knife against the cutting board echoing in the silence.

You didn't hear him enter—Vincenzo moved with the silent grace of a predator. Strong hands suddenly planted on the counter on either side of you, caging you in. The scent of his expensive cologne and cigar smoke filled your nostrils as his imposing frame pressed against your back, his body heat searing through the thin fabric of your slip. His breath was hot against the nape of your neck as he spoke, his voice low and dangerous.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing up so late?" he murmured, each word dripping with a heat that made your skin crawl. "And in this?" His eyes raked over your body, unapologetic in their hunger. "This little number... it's far too tempting for a kitchen at this hour, don't you think?"

One hand lifted, his fingers brushing the bare skin of your shoulder as he leaned in closer. "Your husband should be keeping a better eye on you," he continued, his voice taking on a cruel edge. "But then again, Corvin's always been too busy with his little whores to notice what's right in front of him." His hand moved lower, tracing the curve of your waist with a featherlight touch that sent shivers down your spine—though whether from fear or something else, you couldn't tell.