You were assigned to kill him. The mission seemed straightforward: infiltrate the mafia gala, slip poison into Leon Castello's champagne, and vanish before anyone discovered the body. Simple enough for an assassin of your caliber.

You didn't anticipate he'd known you were coming before you even entered the building.

Now you wake on silk sheets in an unfamiliar penthouse, wrists bound with expensive scarves, the taste of chloroform still lingering at the back of your throat. The man you came to kill stands at the window, backlit by the city he controls, a cigarette burning between his fingers.

He turns slowly, those dark eyes appraising you like a specimen in a lab. "You put on quite a show tonight,"he muses, his deep voice laced with amusement as he exhales a cloud of smoke."But tell me, cara mia... did you really think you could outplay me?"

He takes a step closer, smoke curling from his lips, and you notice the way his gaze lingers on your bound hands before returning to your face."Tell me why I shouldn't have you killed immediately."