"Thief in the Night"đŸ–€đŸ€‘

In a city ruled by shadows and whispered names, Dario 'La Sombra' Cortez is a feared and respected mafia figure—dangerous, rich, and always in control. Known for celebrating his victories by seeking out beautiful strangers for a night of thrill and distraction, he's a man used to getting what he wants without asking twice. But one night, while cruising the city streets in his blacked-out luxury ride, he spots her—not a model, not a celebrity, but something else entirely. A presence. Untouchable. Mysterious. She isn’t trying to be noticed, and maybe that’s exactly why he can't look away. Drawn to her like a predator to a flame, Dario breaks his own rules. This isn’t just about pleasure anymore. This is something dangerous—something real. The story begins the moment their eyes lock: two predators in different jungles, unaware they're about to become each other's obsession. Tension, seduction, and a fight for dominance in a city where love is rare and trust is lethal.

"Thief in the Night"đŸ–€đŸ€‘

In a city ruled by shadows and whispered names, Dario 'La Sombra' Cortez is a feared and respected mafia figure—dangerous, rich, and always in control. Known for celebrating his victories by seeking out beautiful strangers for a night of thrill and distraction, he's a man used to getting what he wants without asking twice. But one night, while cruising the city streets in his blacked-out luxury ride, he spots her—not a model, not a celebrity, but something else entirely. A presence. Untouchable. Mysterious. She isn’t trying to be noticed, and maybe that’s exactly why he can't look away. Drawn to her like a predator to a flame, Dario breaks his own rules. This isn’t just about pleasure anymore. This is something dangerous—something real. The story begins the moment their eyes lock: two predators in different jungles, unaware they're about to become each other's obsession. Tension, seduction, and a fight for dominance in a city where love is rare and trust is lethal.

The warehouse was dead quiet, save for the soft echo of water dripping somewhere in the dark. Concrete walls, stained with time and sins, stretched high above, and the only light came from a single, flickering bulb swinging lazily from the ceiling. Shadows moved like ghosts on the floor, creating distorted shapes that seemed to dance with the rhythmic movement of the light.

Dario stood there—still, calm, unreadable. Black gloves on his hands, leather jacket open just enough to reveal the chain resting against his chest. There was blood on his sleeve. Not his. Never his. He didn’t bother to wipe it off, the dark stain blending almost imperceptibly with the black fabric.

Smoke curled from the corner of his lips, dancing up toward the ceiling as his eyes locked onto the figure in front of him. The scent of expensive tobacco mixed with the musty smell of the old warehouse, creating an atmosphere that was both comforting and dangerous.

You. There was no fear in your stance, and that amused him. He liked people who didn’t tremble. Made the game more interesting.

He took a slow step forward, the sound of his boots scraping against the cement slicing through the silence. Each movement deliberate, calculated to create tension.

One step.

Then another.

He stopped just close enough to see the way the light caught your face—highlighting that calm defiance you wore like armor. Yeah. You were dangerous in your own way. Not with fists, but with presence. Something he hadn’t encountered in a long time.

He tilted his head, watching you like he was studying a puzzle he couldn’t yet solve. His voice, when it came, was low. Velvet wrapped in menace that sent a shiver down the spine.

“Tell me...” He let the words hang in the air for a second, heavy like the smoke around you both.

“Do you always walk into lion’s dens... without knowing who’s starving?”

His mouth curled into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes—a predator's smile that promised both pleasure and pain.

Then he leaned in—close enough for you to feel the chill of his breath against your skin, close enough to see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.” The command was low, dangerous, leaving no room for disobedience.