Chapter 5

SILVANO

Every mission has always been easy for me especially after the death of my family.

But Mirella… she has been driving me insane, and I don’t like the feeling one bit.

I don’t know what came over me at the bar that night. One minute, I was simply watching her; the next, I was seeing red. When that fucker grabbed her, something in me snapped. In that moment, all I could think about was ending him.. I would have ended him without hesitation

If she hadn’t stopped me. Her voice—steady, urgent—cut through the noise in my head. I don’t listen to people. I don’t take orders.

But I stopped and I’ve been questioning that moment ever since. I rarely listen to anyone. But she made me stop.

And even now, I regret it. Especially after seeing the marks he left on her skin.

Mirella.

She has become my new obsession—and that is a problem. This is a mission, one I am meant to complete without attachment. Yet everything about her pulls me in.

I made sure she got home safely that night before I left. At first, I thought my fixation was simply due to constant observation—curiosity, nothing more. So I decided to stay away for a day and let one of my men watch her instead.

That was a mistake.

The distance drove me restless. I found myself thinking about her constantly—her scent, the way her eyes searched her surroundings as if hoping to catch a glimpse of me. I had told her I was always near, and I made sure she believed it.

What unsettles me most is that she isn’t afraid.

Most people fear being watched, followed, and studied. But not Mirella. If anything, her lack of fear only deepens my interest—and that is not a good sign.

I stand by the window in one of my houses on the outskirts of the city, watching the skyline. I own properties scattered everywhere—places no one knows about, not even the organization. They think they know everything about me, but they only know what I allow.

And that is exactly how it will remain.

I walk over to the table and pour myself a glass of champagne just as my phone chimes. It’s a message from the man I assigned to watch Mirella. I read through her activities for the day—she went out with a friend to bid on a painting.

I can picture it clearly: the excitement on her face, the way she lights up over simple things. It’s something I’ve noticed about her—small gestures, little moments, they matter to her.

The door opens behind me.

I don’t need to turn to know who it is.

“Silvano,” a familiar voice calls, laced with mischief.

Ciro Malvento—my right-hand man and the closest thing I have to family—steps into the room with a grin that already tells me he’s up to something.

We met after losing everything, during therapy. Two broken men who rebuilt themselves into something far more dangerous. Now, we operate in the shadows—he controls the city’s underground, while I work within the organization, gathering information that serves our shared ambitions.

No one knows we are connected. And we intend to keep it that way.

“How are the plans with the Russians?” I ask, getting straight to the point.

“They’ll come around,” he replies, taking a seat. “They need our influence with the government if their shipment is going to go through.”

“Good,” I say, my gaze returning to the city. “Dependence works in our favor.”

There’s a pause before he speaks again.

“I heard you took on a mission involving the city’s damsel.”

I turn sharply. “And who told you that?”

“Who else? Tiziano.”

I scoff, irritation rising. “That man talks too much.”

Ciro only laughs. “So… how’s it going?”

“Exactly how it should,” I reply, offering nothing more. The thought of sharing anything about Mirella—even with him—doesn’t sit well with me.

“Someone looks possessive,” he teases.

I ignore him.

“When’s the next shipment?” I ask, shifting the conversation.

“Next month. Enough time to prepare.”

I nod. Nothing can go wrong—not now.

I walk into my inner bedroom in the office to change into some black pants with a shirt and a leathered jacket. “Where're you heading to?" Ciro’s always worried about where I go so I don't go killing the wrong people and having a war break out. “Going to clear my head" I say while walking out, I stop just before I leave the room “You should schedule a meeting with the don" I say and walk out. I need to see the woman who's been occupying my head.

Later that night, I find myself outside Mirella’s house.

Her father’s security is laughable. Predictable patterns, blind spots, poorly placed cameras—I’ve spent a week studying every detail. Getting in is effortless.

Within minutes, I slip through an open window and into her room.

She’s asleep.

Curled beneath the covers, her hair spread across the pillow, she looks… peaceful. Too peaceful for someone who has unknowingly become the center of my thoughts.

I stay in the shadows, watching.

There’s something about her—something that unsettles me in a way no mission ever has. I’ve dealt with countless women before, all willing, all easy. None of them ever mattered.

But Mirella is different.

And that difference is dangerous.

I step closer, drawn in despite myself. For a moment, I simply stand there, observing, committing every detail to memory.

This is a mistake, I know that.

But walking away feels impossible.

She sighs deeply, the sound alone makes blood rush to my groin, Mirella here turns me on without doing anything. She sighs again like she's having an erotic dream then her hands move under the blanket kicking it off before cupping her panties and parting them to rub her clit and I freeze not expecting to be welcomed by that scene. Her mouth opens in an O form and a throaty moan leaves her mouth and I groan feeling my groin stretch and get bigger in my pants. I relax my back against the wall and watch how she tries to pleasure herself with her eyes closed. She rubs harder trying to get herself over the edge but it seems like she's not getting what exactly she wants because she groans in frustration. I step towards her bed and unable to keep my hands to myself. They itch to touch her, to feel, to mark, to own. My hands reach into her panties and I drag them down before pocketing them. I slowly rub her clit in circles and she moans, I take it slowly before I rub harder and stick my other hand into her hole and fuck her fast with it while still rubbing her clit, she throws her back into the pillow and moans a bit more loudly, I pause and she whines before moving her body to fuck my fingers and I watch silently has she fucks my hand. It's the most erotic and stimulating sight I have ever witnessed and I'm tempted to leave my mark on her so she knows I was here. To claim her, to give her something to think about, to make her know I was here, to keep her mind occupied with thoughts of me just like she's doing with me. I bend and bite her collar bone breaking the skin before I suck and soothe it, she moans again and I smile widely. She loves pain. I bend further down and lap at her wet fold tasting her wetness.

It was the kind of good that dooms you on first taste- the moment it hit my tongue, I knew I’d never be able to stop. I couldn't stop myself from continuing to lap and suck her clit, she moans and thrashes under me but I hold her still and continue my ministration while fucking her holes, she moans so loudly I almost feared she would wake up someone but I continued until she got closer to the edge before letting loose. Her body shakes from the climax, I remove my finger from her hole and suck on it with my throat. My gaze remains fixed on her until she rolls on her front and moans a name that blew my mind and I knew instantly that I was fucked. My name.

There's no going back. I’m already in too deep.