Elena Russo is a master thief and assassin, driven by revenge. Her mission is to infiltrate the life of mafia billionaire Lorenzo Salvatore, whom she believes is responsible for her father’s murder. Under the guise of an art dealer, Elena enters his world, but the lines between duty and desire blur as she uncovers hidden truths, including Lorenzo’s vulnerability and complex relations. When sparks fly between them, Elena finds herself caught between duty and desire. As she uncovers his deepest secrets, including a hidden child and a dangerous rival bent on his destruction, Elena realizes that her enemy is not the man she thought he was. Torn between her lingering feelings for Ethan, the FBI informant with his own dark agenda, and her undeniable attraction to Lorenzo, Elena must decide: can she risk her heart to get her revenge, or will she lose everything in the heist of her life? In a world of betrayals, lies, and shattered loyalties, love may be the deadliest game of all.
View MoreElena Romano understood firsthand that in the world of thieves, everything had a price—except resurrecting dead men. If that had been on the table, her father would still be alive, and Lorenzo Salvatore wouldn't be on her hit list.
Her olive-toned skin blended with the darkness, making her almost invisible. For the right price, anything could be bought on the thriving black market of the underworld—maps, blueprints, access codes. Her underworld connections yielded the blueprints to the Salvatore estate. It was pretty easy to kill someone in their own home, no matter how secure they thought they were. The Mafia bosses weren't immune to secrets sold on the black market, though it was pricier to gain information on them; a slip-up could mean a dead body turning up the next day. She instinctively rubbed the faint scar below her collarbone, a thin line etched from a heist gone wrong—a constant reminder that she was no stranger to danger.
A low chuckle escaped her lips. Lorenzo probably thought his estate was impenetrable, with its stone walls, security cameras, and armed guards.
Her breath fogged the night air as she crouched behind the hedges, the chill barely registering through her sleek black attire. Her raven-black hair was tied back into a tight ponytail. No flashy costumes tonight—practicality over style.
For years, her father’s death haunted her, and she'd finally uncovered a lead—one that pointed straight to Lorenzo Salvatore. The blueprints she had obtained through her connections gave her an edge. Scanning the perimeters, she calculated the guards’ patrol patterns, waiting for the perfect moment to slip past.
Taking advantage of the shift change amongst the guards, she moved like a shadow, scaling the side wall with ease. Her lean, athletic body, honed from years of running, fighting, and surviving in the underworld, moved with a grace that belied the lethal skills lying just beneath the surface. The windows on the lower floor were heavily reinforced, but the second floor had weak points, as expected for a property of this age. Carefully jamming a thin metal rod between the latch, she gave it a gentle push, and the window gave way, allowing her to slip inside.
Once inside, she paused, taking a deep breath. Her heart beat steadily in her chest—controlled but purposeful. She mentally retraced the layout: down the hall, past two bedrooms, into the study where Lorenzo kept his private files.
Elena’s boots made no sound on the polished wood floors as she crept through the hall. The house was eerily silent, save for the occasional ticking of an ornate grandfather clock. The wealth and power of the Salvatore family permeated every inch of the place, from the marble statues that lined the hall to the elaborate paintings on the walls.
She reached the study door and pressed her ear against it. Silence.
With a quiet twist of the handle, she slipped inside, the scent of old leather and expensive bourbon filling the air. The room was dimly lit, with only a single lamp casting long shadows across the massive oak desk. Elena silently observed the large room, filled with antique books, leather furniture, and paintings that screamed power and prestige. The files. They had to be here.
Elena moved quickly, scanning the desk, pulling open drawers, fingers deftly sifting through papers.
“Damn.” She quickly pocketed a flash drive she found in one of the drawers and slid behind a tall bookshelf just as the door creaked open.
The soft click of a gun’s safety being released echoed through the silent room.
“Whoever you are, you’re either very bold or very stupid.”
The voice was smooth, calm, almost amused. Elena didn’t peek around the bookshelf to know who it was. His reputation preceded him—a dangerous man who didn’t tolerate games. She weighed her options, mentally running through her escape routes.
Slowly, she stepped out from behind the bookshelf, her hands raised slightly in mock surrender. “Bold, I’d say.”
Lorenzo turned to face her, his eyes narrowing as he took in her features. She was no ordinary thief—her piercing blue eyes remained unflinching under his scrutiny, and her body, lithe and graceful, stood poised like a tightly wound spring, ready to react. But it was the cold determination in her gaze, the silent threat wrapped in elegance, that unnerved him the most.
“Well, well,” he drawled, voice low and dangerous. “What do we have here?”
Elena drew her knife, its blade flashing in the dim light. “Back off.”
“You’re trespassing,” his voice was devoid of any real concern.
Elena stepped toward him. “Where are the files?”
“Ah.” The amusement faded slightly. “So, it’s some files that you’re after. You’re going to have to be more specific.”
“The ones you have about my father,” she hissed. “I know you had him killed. I just need to know why.”
In the beat of the silence, she watched Lorenzo’s brow furrow slightly in genuine confusion.
Lorenzo stood tall in the dim light, his broad shoulders filling the doorway, casting a shadow across the room. His dark, tousled hair framed a face that could as well have been carved from stone. Elena noted the sharp jawline, high cheekbones, and piercing eyes. The dim lights hid the exact color of his gaze, but she sensed the sharp intelligence beneath.
“I have no idea who your father is or was.”
Elena’s grip tightened on the knife. “You are anything but dumb, and you know exactly who I’m talking about.”
Lorenzo straightened, the casual demeanor slipping away as he stepped toward her. “I assure you, I don’t.” His voice was low and even, his eyes never leaving hers.
“But now you’ve got my attention.”
He lowered his gun. “I do not kill people without a solid reason.”
His words were laced with a strange mix of honesty and threat, throwing her off balance.
“You’re a mob boss, so I know all about your type.”
“I think you don’t know who I am at all,” he spoke softly, taking another step closer. The air around them thickened with tension.
His voice dropped to a low murmur. “And I think you look really ridiculous in that attire.” The sharp planes of his face softened into a smirk.
She glanced down at her tight, dark gear and scowled at him. Even in his ridiculous silk pajamas adorned with tiny sailboats, there was no mistaking the dangerous predator lurking beneath his charming exterior.
“You’re one to condemn when you’re garbed up in that ugly-ass pajamas.”
“Touché.” Lorenzo’s smile widened. “First, you invade a man's home, and then you make jabs at his choice of wardrobe. Now, that’s bold.”
“What sucks is your lackadaisical security system,” Elena scoffed. “How do you expect to be taken seriously as a mob boss with such a lax security system?”
Lorenzo chuckled. “Well, wise-ass, I'll have you know that between the foyer and this office, you practically set off more than half a dozen silent alarms.”
“Not so cheeky now, are you?” Lorenzo asked. “I like a healthy romance as much as any other man, but I didn't order any tonight, and definitely not one with a touch of thievery. So what are you doing in my study?”
Elena clenched her teeth, a mix of fury and something else rising within her—a spark of unexpected attraction. “You’re not going to talk your way out of this.”
“I wasn’t planning on it.”
In one swift motion, he closed the distance between them, reaching for the scarf covering the lower half of her face.
Elena reacted instinctively, slashing out with her knife. The blade caught him in the side, drawing blood. She was rewarded with a hiss of pain, a visceral reaction that surprised them both.
Lorenzo staggered back, eyes wide with disbelief, his hand instinctively moving to his wound. A moment of pain crossed his face. “Now that,” he muttered, pressing a hand to his side, “was unexpected.”
He grabbed her wrist, yanking her close, his breath hot against her ear. “You’ve got guts; I’ll give you that.”
The door slammed open.
“What the hell happened? I heard something—”
Nico Salvatore.
The infamous younger brother—less polished, less charming than Lorenzo, but twice as shrewd.
Elena recalled the intel she had on the younger Salvatore. She watched as Nico moved into the room with a sharp, almost predatory energy, his eyes narrowing as they locked onto her. Where Lorenzo exuded suave charm, Nico was raw intensity—less polished but no less dangerous. His dark hair was shorter, messier, and his features were sharper, more angular. His lean, wiry frame was a stark contrast to Lorenzo’s more imposing build.
Elena raised her hands as he pulled a gun on her, her eyes darting around for a cover or escape route. She knew from his demeanor that he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot.
Lorenzo released his grip on her arm. “Don’t worry Nico. I have this under control.”
“Under control? You’re bleeding!” The faint scar running along his jawline throbbed.
Lorenzo let out a long sigh, his tone exasperated. “I said it’s fine, Nico.”
Reluctantly, Nico lowered his gun but kept his eyes trained on Elena, suspicion etched into his features. “Who is she?”
Lorenzo sighed. “Just someone who’s way in over her head.”
Elena squared her shoulders, refusing to be intimidated. “I’m here for information, and you’re the one who’s bleeding.”
Nico shot her an incredulous look. “You really think you can just waltz in here and demand answers?”
“I think I can get what I need, whether you want to give it to me or not.”
“Bold,” Lorenzo murmured, a glint of interest sparking in his eyes. “I like her.”
Nico eyed him, “she’s dangerous and the loss of blood seems to have made you nuts.”
Before she could react, Nico lunged forward, tackling her to the ground. The knife slipped from her hand, skittering across the floor. Nico reached for it, but Elena rolled, kicking up to her feet and reclaiming her weapon before either brother could react.
“Let’s see how good you are at hand-to-hand,” Nico growled, stepping toward her. They both circled the room, gauging each other.
A sharp noise broke through the tension.
A flicker of alarm crossing Nico’s face. “What did you do?”
Elena waved her hand dismissively. “The knife is dosed with a little TTX.”
Nico’s face darkened. “You dosed him with a sedative? That could kill him, you wench.”
Elena shrugged. “The dosage is mild. He will be out cold only for a few hours and possibly wake up with a mean headache. Otherwise, he will be fine.” she called over her shoulder, making her way toward the open window.
“We will finish this another day. Your brother still owes me answers.” With a swift leap, she disappeared into the night, leaving behind only shadows.
The study’s heavy doors shut with a muted finality as Nico entered, the silence thickened by the room’s golden-tinged light. His mouth twisted into a smirk, the venom in his gaze sharpening as he took in Lorenzo’s calm demeanor and Elena’s steady presence nearby.“Should I leave you two to it?” His words were laced with contempt. “Wouldn’t want to interrupt your ‘heartfelt reunion.’”Lorenzo barely acknowledged Nico’s barb, his attention narrowing instead on the bruising across Nico’s jaw, the tense set of his shoulders, and the charred edges of his jacket, now a singed reminder of the recent blast. A flicker of concern passed over Lorenzo’s expression, one only a brother might catch.“Nico,” he said, his voice calm but direct, “are you intact?”Nico nodded sharply, the anger in his eyes smoldering, though he shifted uncomfortably under Lorenzo’s gaze. “I’m fine,” he replied, his tone tight, as if unwilling to accept any sympathy. Lorenzo took him in for another second before nodding
The drive to the Salvatore Estate was torturous. Elena’s knuckles tightened around the steering wheel, her jaw clenched as she navigated the mountain pass. She was squashed in the center of the convoy, boxed in, as though the guards—so eager to carry out Nico’s every word—had positioned her as an afterthought. Her car dipped into a rut, jostling her shoulder, and she rubbed at the ache that was forming in her temple. Beside her, a guard sat rigid, his hands folded and gaze fixed ahead. He was older, maybe mid-fifties, with graying hair and a scar slicing down his left cheek. His presence was silent and detached, a man carrying out orders with the efficiency of a well-trained shadow. She caught his reflection in the rearview mirror, and something in his gaze suggested he’d been in too many fights, seen too much blood. Her annoyance simmered beneath her scrutiny of him, but he gave no reaction, his focus on the dark road ahead.As the wind streamed through the
The road to the safe house twisted through the hills, narrow and shadowed. Elena’s car coasted quietly up the final stretch, the solitude around her broken only by the hum of her engine. Each turn brought her closer to the answers she’d been chasing—buried pieces of her father’s past she could no longer ignore.The safe house was hidden beneath dense layers of ivy and towering cypress trees, an old stone structure with worn shutters and a half-collapsed awning. She shut off the car and stepped out, shrugging deeper into her hoodie, her gaze flicking to the surrounding trees, already instinctively mapping her exits.She had just started toward the door when she heard a second car approaching. She turned, tension coiling in her stomach, as she watched the black SUV come to a slow stop behind her own vehicle. The door opened, and Nico stepped out, his gray eyes fixed on her with an expression that bordered on exasperation.“What are you doing here?” she deman
The morning sun cast a pale light over the sprawling terrace of Aurelia Hotel, a luxury hidden in the city’s quieter quarters. Elena leaned against a stone railing overlooking the cobblestone street below, her gaze distant. This place held a mix of opulence and old-world charm, a far cry from the shadowed corners she frequented. But today, she was here on a purpose.The terrace was a blend of quiet elegance, low chairs and tables set beneath white awnings flapping gently in the breeze. Waiters moved soundlessly, dressed in crisp black uniforms. Elena had chosen her spot purposefully—a table near the edge, partially shrouded in ivy, where she could observe without being noticed.The fitted black dress hugged her frame, accentuating her curves and complementing her olive skin. Her fingers brushed the edge of a coffee cup, the rich scent mingling with the faint trace of floral perfume lingering in the air. She hadn’t been here long, but the weight of anticipation made each passing second
Elena had barely closed the door of her house when she sensed she wasn’t alone. The room was dim, but a faint glow spilled through the curtains, illuminating the figure leaning casually against the wall, his arms crossed. Ethan’s presence filled the space, and her pulse quickened involuntarily.“Ethan,” she said, her voice steady, though her insides tightened. "How are you here so soon?"Her thoughts went to the bursted tire she'd experienced on the highway, she faintly wondered if he had anything to do with it and what he hoped to achieve by slashing her tire.He stepped forward, his expression shadowed but intense, a controlled calm in his posture. He was dressed in the same slate-gray shirt from earlier.The rolled up sleeves, accentuated his lean, muscular build, especially paired with the dark jeans that gave him an edge of ruggedness.“You sure seem to be making yourself comfortable with Lorenzo.” The words held a trace of disdain, and he crossed his arms tighter as he studied h
Elena took a steadying breath as she stepped into the lounge, her eyes adjusting to the warm, amber glow that softened each line and deepened every shadow. Chandeliers cast a dim, conspiratorial light over velvet seats and polished tables, the faint but familiar scent of bourbon and leather grounded her as she prepared for this meeting—a meeting she wasn’t sure she could trust.Her gaze settled on Lorenzo in a secluded corner, one arm draped casually over his seat, his posture composed, almost commanding, even as his eyes tracked her movement, eliciting an awareness that felt too keen, too intimate. His suit, a deep, muted blue, set off the striking intensity of his gaze, and as she approached, she couldn’t ignore the way his lips curved ever so slightly, as though he could read her every thought before she’d spoken a word.“Elena,” he greeted, his voice a low murmur that seemed to vibrate through the air between them. He gestured to the seat across from him, his eyes r
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