In love with my mafia uncle

The night smelled of rain and secrets.

Kira stood on the rooftop of Sajah’s mansion, her hair whipping in the restless wind. Below her, Soul City glittered like a kingdom of fire—every light a warning, every shadow a threat. And yet, when Sajah’s arms slid around her waist from behind, the city itself seemed to vanish.

“Look at it,” he murmured against her ear, his voice low, rough, and intoxicating. “Every building down there is a contract. Every flickering light, a signature of survival. I built this empire on blood and bargains.”

Kira’s chest tightened. She wanted to believe his world had no claim on her, but it already had—through him.

“And if the city takes you away from me?” she whispered, her voice trembling like fragile ink on parchment.

“Then it will have to breach me first.” His grip tightened, sealing the words. “No one—no man, no law, no blood—will sever what I’ve signed with you.”

Kira turned, her fingers brushing the sharp line of his jaw. “And if I am the cost of your empire?”

For once, the unshakable Sajah faltered. His storm-dark eyes softened, unguarded. “You are not the cost,” he whispered. “You are the empire.”

The kiss that followed was not just passion—it was a merger, a vow, a collision of fates that could never be undone. The city roared beneath them, but for that moment, they were untouchable.

⸻

When they came down, the rooftop promise still clinging to their lips, Sophia was waiting.

Her stepmother sat stiffly in the living room, her manicured hands folded like a judge ready to deliver sentence. Her smile was brittle, her eyes sharp as knives.

“You think I don’t see?” Sophia’s voice was calm, but each word cut clean. “This… arrangement. This hidden clause you’ve signed in the dark.”

Kira froze. Her heart raced, the diamond on her finger burning like a guilty confession.

“Sophia, I—”

“Don’t.” Sophia’s tone sharpened. “Do you know what this means? If Samnyon discovers it, he will tear this family apart. And you, Sajah—you’ll lose everything you’ve built. The world will not accept this. The family will not accept this. And your enemies…” Her lips curled in something close to pity. “…they will use her to destroy you.”

Silence swallowed the room. Sajah stood still as stone, his expression unreadable.

Kira’s hand trembled, reaching for him. But he didn’t move. His stillness was worse than anger—it was doubt.

Sophia rose slowly, her heels clicking like gavel strikes. “Contracts can be burned, Sajah. Be careful you don’t burn her in the fire with you.”

Then she was gone, leaving only smoke and silence behind.

⸻

Later that night, Kira sat alone in her room, staring at the diamond on her finger. The storm Sophia had conjured still echoed inside her. Was she ready to pay the price of this love? Could she survive the fire that came with it?

A knock shattered her thoughts. The door opened, and Sajah stepped in. His shadows followed him, but his eyes… his eyes carried only her.

He knelt at her feet, a king stripped of armor, a devil surrendering his pride.

“I won’t lie to you,” he said softly. “Sophia is right. They will come for you. Loving me is a breach of every law—family, society, blood. But contracts are not meant to be easy. They are meant to be tested.”

He took her hand, pressing his lips to her knuckles with reverence.

“Do you understand, Kira? This vow may demand fire. It may demand blood. But if you stay… you will never face it alone. Not for a single breath.”

Tears burned her eyes, but she nodded, her whisper steady. “Then let the fire come. We’ll sign it with our scars.”

And when he kissed her, sealing the vow, it was no longer just love. It was a contract written in blood and fire—eternal, unbreakable, dangerous.

The devil had proposed.

And Kira had signed her soul away.

The storm came quietly at first.

A low rumble of thunder rolled over the city, and rain pattered against the window like a thousand whispered confessions. Kira stood alone in the dimly lit living room, her palm pressed against the cold glass, her reflection staring back at her.

It had been two months since her mother’s death, yet grief clung to her like a second skin. Her father, Samnyon, had buried himself in business, leaving her with silence. Sophia Kata had entered their lives soon after—soft smiles, gentle words—but Kira had never let her heart accept the woman fully.

Because with Sophia came Sajah.

Her step-uncle. Her forbidden flame.

Even now, just thinking his name set her pulse racing. Sajah was no ordinary man. In the underworld, he was both feared and revered—a name that carried weight in hushed alleyways, a shadow that bent men to obedience. To her, he was something far more dangerous: temptation wrapped in flesh and silence.

She told herself it was wrong.

She told herself it would pass.

But the fire in her chest only grew hotter with every stolen glance, every fleeting encounter.

And then—her phone buzzed.

Her heart stuttered as she read the message.

Kira. I’m outside. I need help.

No hesitation. No thought. Only instinct. She rushed to the door, fingers fumbling against the lock. The storm’s breath rushed in as she pulled it open, and the sight before her made her knees weaken.

Sajah.

He leaned against the frame, rain streaming down his dark hair, soaking his torn shirt, blood staining his chest. Bruises marred his jaw, his knuckles were raw, and yet his eyes—those sharp, storm-dark eyes—burned with fire.

“Kira,” he rasped, his voice broken but steady. “Help me.”

Her body moved before her mind could catch up. “Come inside.”

She guided him to the couch, her hands trembling as she pressed him down gently. Blood smeared against her fingertips, warm and real. Her breath shook, but she forced herself to act—fetching towels, water, bandages. The storm raged outside, but inside, the world had narrowed to the space between them.

As she dabbed a cloth against the cut on his temple, he flinched.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he muttered, his voice low, rough, threaded with exhaustion.

“And let you bleed alone?” she whispered back, her voice fragile but firm. “I couldn’t.”

His gaze snapped to hers, dark and unreadable. For a long moment, neither of them moved. The air thickened, the storm outside beating harder against the windows, as though urging them closer.

Her hand lingered on his cheek, tracing the bruise with trembling fingers. He didn’t pull away. His breathing slowed, deepened, his eyes locking onto hers as if he were trying to memorize her face.

“Kira…” His voice broke, softer now, almost a confession.

She swallowed hard. “What?”

“Why do you look at me that way?”

Her heart pounded. The question sliced through every barrier she had built, leaving her exposed. Her lips parted, but no words came. Instead, her body answered for her.

She leaned in.

The kiss began as hesitation—a trembling brush of lips, fragile as porcelain. But the moment they touched, restraint shattered. His hand rose, rough and warm, cupping the back of her neck, pulling her deeper. She melted into him, tasting rain and blood and something fiercer—something that had always been theirs, waiting.

The world outside disappeared. Rain hammered the glass, thunder rolled, but none of it mattered. Her fingers tangled in his wet hair, her body pressing against his, desperate to erase the distance.

He groaned softly against her lips, the sound sending shivers down her spine. “Kira… we can’t…”

“Then don’t stop,” she whispered, breathless, her lips grazing his. “Please… don’t stop.”

That plea undid him.

In a surge of need, he pulled her into his lap, his arms caging her as if to protect her from the very world outside. Their kisses deepened—hungry, urgent, every clash of lips sealing an invisible contract neither could ever escape. His hands roamed her back, her waist, pulling her closer, as if he feared she would vanish if he let go.

Clothes fell away, careless and forgotten. Skin met skin, heat against heat, and the storm inside them roared louder than the one outside.

“Kira,” he breathed against her neck, his voice trembling with restraint, with desire, with something deeper. “Tell me this isn’t a mistake.”

She cupped his face, tears mingling with rain on his skin. “I can’t. Because it isn’t.”

And with that, the last of his resistance broke.

The night became their witness. The storm raged, lightning flashing through the window, thunder marking their every gasp, every whispered vow. They signed themselves to each other not with ink, but with skin, with breath, with the desperate surrender of two souls who had found home in forbidden arms.

By the time dawn broke, painting the sky in silver and gold, the world outside remained unchanged. But inside, everything had shifted.

Kira lay tangled in his arms, her body aching, her heart racing, her soul irrevocably bound. She traced the line of his jaw with trembling fingers, whispering the truth that had lived in her heart all along.

“You’re mine now,” she breathed.

His lips brushed her temple. “I always was.”