4

ADRIANO

I was on a warpath, and I knew it.

Every ounce of logic told me I had better things to do, bigger enemies to conquer, and borders to protect. Yet here I was, burning through resources and time, obsessing over a woman who wasn’t even half my size.

But it wasn’t just about the woman.

It was about what she took from me.

And I had an inkling feeling that there was a damn good amount of transfer of aggression bleeding into my desperate need to find this woman.

But it was an aggression that she caused.

My fingers drummed against the polished table in the conference room as I tried—and failed—to focus on the discussion unfolding before me. A group of us sat around, discussing the Bratva and Cosa Nostra trade routes. A delicate subject, one requiring my full attention. But my mind wasn’t on the maps spread out before me or the stiff suits droning on about logistics.

It was on her.

Azzura.

She’d been a distraction from the start, the type of woman who looked like sin wrapped in silk.

Her eyes had sparkled with mischief, and her every move had been deliberate, calculated.

I should have known better should have been more careful. But I let my guard down for one night, and now I was paying the price.

She’d stolen from me. A piece of my family’s legacy passed down through generations. It was priceless, and the idea of her pawning it off to some back-alley thief had my jaw tightening.

I should have walked away, let it go. But I couldn’t.

My phone buzzed against the table, and I glanced at it, seeing the name of one of my top men.

I ignored the call for now, finishing the meeting as quickly as I could without looking careless. My men might not question me openly, but they noticed when my attention slipped.

As soon as the meeting ended, I checked my phone. A text from the same number appeared:

Boss, we found where she works.

My lips curved into a cold smile.

Finally.

Without hesitation, I cleared my schedule and gave my driver the address.

The ride felt longer than it was, my patience wearing thinner and thinner with every mile. Each passing block was a reminder of the time I had spent searching, the countless dead ends I had faced. The city outside the tinted windows blurred into a haze of gray buildings and flickering lights, but my focus remained sharp.

I could almost hear the ticking of a clock in my mind, counting down to this moment.

When we finally pulled up to a small grocery store tucked between a laundromat and a coffee shop, I stepped out of the Range Rover, slipping off my sunglasses.

The cool air hit my face, a stark contrast to the growing heat building inside me. I didn’t linger outside; I walked straight in, and my presence alone was enough to turn heads.

The lights above buzzed faintly, and the smell of cleaning supplies mingled with that of cheap bread filled the air.

My eyes swept the room, catching wide-eyed stares and nervous glances from both staff and customers alike. They either found me intimidating—which wasn’t uncommon—or they knew who I was.

Maybe it was both.

As I approached the cashier counter, I scanned the workers with a practiced, careful gaze.

None of them had the fiery hair or bold stare I remembered from our last encounter. None of the possessed a sultry grin. Or a body that made me want to commit atrocities.

My mood soured further as disappointment settled in my gut like a stone. She had been so close, yet here I was surrounded by strangers.

“Excuse me,” I said, keeping my tone calm but firm. “Does Azzura work here?”

The question hung in the air like an uninvited guest at a party, and I could feel the tension rippling through the room.

One woman, younger and visibly shaken, nodded slowly. But before I could question her further, another worker—older, with a hardened expression—shot her a sharp look that spoke volumes about the unspoken rules of this place.

No snitching, huh?

The younger one faltered at first but then quickly blurted out, “She’s taking her shift today.”

My attention snapped to the woman she pointed at, my eyes narrowing as I took in her features. She was older than Azzura. I studied her, looking for a resemblance that wasn’t there. Maybe she was a sister of hers… or a cousin.

Regardless, she wasn’t my target.

I walked toward her slowly, each step deliberate and heavy with intent of my being here. It was meant to intimidate; to remind them all that I wasn’t someone to be trifled with.

If they didn’t know why by the reputation that no doubt preceded me. Then, one look at my face would be enough to set them in line. She shuffled backward, her discomfort palpable as I closed the distance between us.

“Where is she?” I asked evenly.

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard. She hesitated for just a moment too long, glancing toward the back of the store as if she could find an escape route written on the walls. Before she could stammer out a reply, the back door swung open with an abruptness that startled everyone in the vicinity.

“I’m here! I’m here!”

That voice.

Light, chipper, and utterly unaware of the storm waiting for her. I turned my head sharply, following the sound that had been haunting me for days.

Azzura.

She walked out of the back room like she didn’t have a care in the world. That same body—curves accentuated by her fitted uniform—moved with an ease that seemed designed to tempt anyone who dared look her way. Her auburn hair spilled over her shoulders like molten, bouncy rays of sunlight, and her lips—those lips I hadn’t forgotten—curved into a faint smile as she looked up.

And then our eyes met.

Her entire demeanor changed in an instant. The casual stride faltered, and the easy smile vanished in one unmistakable heartbeat.

She froze just a few feet away from me, clutching her purse like it could shield her from what was coming next. I held her gaze, watching emotions flicker across her face like shadows dancing on walls.

Shock at seeing me again. Guilt for whatever past transgressions most likely weighed on the little thief’s conscience and then finally defiance.

The bold little vixen lifted her chin as she held my gaze steady. She didn’t want me to see her waver, despite knowing she’d been caught.

A glimmer of dark amusement ran through me.

Ah, yes. I thought. My prey.