All Chapters of Kiss The Enemy : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

"You're scheduled for a meeting with The La Rosa Nera at 2:00," Marsh said, trying to catch up to the confident strides of Kai Castellano."Why do I have to meet that grumpy old man?" Kai muttered without looking back."Alessio Moretti may be grumpy and rigid, but unless you want to start a mafia war, you have to actually show up for the meeting," Marsh replied.Lorenzo “Il Falco” Castellano built The Castellano Syndicate, a renowned mafia organization. He’d brought Kai into the business at fifteen, molding him into the dangerous, lithe, infamous man he was now. Lorenzo had always been a stern father, affection measured in protection, loyalty, and silence, but in his own twisted way, he loved Kai. He ruled the city from the shadows, and he ruled Kai with expectations as heavy as iron.Alessio Moretti, leader of La Rosa Nera, the syndicate’s oldest rival, was a plump man in his 40s, sharp-tongued and sharper minded. He hated the Castellanos with a passion that bordered on obsession. No

Kai sat behind his massive oak desk in the Castellano Syndicate’s headquarters, a converted old warehouse on the edge of the city’s industrial district. The dim glow of a single lamp barely cut through the smoke curling from his cigarette. The office smelled of leather, bourbon, and something colder, power.But Kai wasn’t here. Not really.His sharp blue eyes stared blankly at the map sprawled across the desk, dotted with pins marking territories, safe houses, and shipments. Yet his mind wasn’t tracking routes or numbers. It kept drifting back to the green eyes of Alessio’s daughter, the way she had smiled, that razor-edged smirk that promised war, or something even more dangerous.Marsh’s voice cut through the haze, practical as always. “You’re zoning again.”Kai flicked ash into the tray, irritation flashing. “I’m not zoning. I’m thinking.”Marsh leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “About what? The price on Alessio’s head, or the fact you’re basically giving him free reign j

The room was silent, but the tension screamed.Gianna sat across from Alessio, arms folded tightly, the air between them heavy with everything unsaid. Her father leaned back in his chair, looking far too calm for someone who had just thrown her entire life into a furnace.“I’m sorry, what?” she asked, voice cold enough to freeze the air.“You heard me, Gianna. The war ends with a wedding,” Alessio said, swirling his drink lazily. “Yours.”“To Kai Castellano?” she spat the name like poison. “You want me to marry the man who’d rather shoot me than shake my hand?”“No,” he replied smoothly. “I want you to destroy him.”Her heart stuttered.Alessio leaned forward now, voice low and deliberate. “You’ll become one of them. The doting mafia bride, the trusted wife. You’ll smile at his men, eat at his table, sleep in his house. And when they stop looking over their shoulders, when they start calling you family…”“You want me to gut them from the inside,” she finished, numb.He smiled. “Exactl

The penthouse was a fortress of glass and steel, perched high above the city’s pulsing veins. Moonlight sliced through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting sharp shadows across the sleek hardwood floor. The air was heavy with the scent of leather, whiskey, and something sharper—tension so thick it could choke a man. Kai Castellano stood by the bar, his silhouette a study in control: broad shoulders squared, black dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, tie discarded like a noose he’d escaped. His icy blue eyes tracked the room, but they kept landing on her. Gianna Moretti sprawled on the plush velvet couch, one leg draped over the armrest, her white wedding gown replaced by a black silk slip that clung to her like a whispered threat. Her dark hair spilled over her shoulders, and those emerald eyes—God, those eyes—glinted with defiance as she toyed with a crystal paperweight from Kai’s desk. She rolled it between her fingers, deliberate, like she was testing how much she could take before

The Castellano safe house reeked of damp concrete and stale cigarette smoke, a squat brick building tucked in the city’s industrial underbelly. Inside, the air was thick with tension, the kind that made your skin crawl and your trigger finger itch. Kai Castellano stood in the center of the dimly lit basement, his black leather gloves flexing as he stared down at the Moretti soldier tied to a chair. The man’s face was a mess—bloodied lip, swollen eye, sweat beading on his brow—but his defiance hadn’t cracked. Yet. “Who hit the docks?” Kai asked, his voice low, a blade sliding through silk. His icy blue eyes bored into the soldier, unblinking, his six-foot frame looming like a storm cloud. The dock attack—gunfire, bodies, a black rose sprayed on a container—had been a slap to the Castellano name, and Kai didn’t tolerate insults. The soldier, a wiry man named Enzo, spat blood onto the floor. “Go to hell, Castellano. ”Kai’s lips twitched, not quite a smile. He stepped closer, crouch