Tempting The Mafia Don

2

Bianca POV

The private lounge at the top of the Excelsior Hotel smelled of aged whiskey and expensive cigars. Naples’ most powerful men had gathered for an exclusive business mixes legitimate investors on the surface, but everyone here knew the real currency was alliances and blood debts. I stood near the bar in my sleek black dress, the fabric modest but hugging my body just enough to remind me I had power too. Twenty-four years old, and I had already learned that silence could cut deeper than words.

My sister Valentina was somewhere across the room, no doubt working her charm. She had been buzzing since the charity gala two nights ago, her eyes bright every time she mentioned Cristiano Moretti. I hadn’t told her how his name alone made my pulse quicken.

Then I saw him.

Cristiano Moretti entered the lounge like he owned the air itself. Tall, commanding, that same dark suit clinging to his powerful frame. The scar on his eyebrow caught the low light, and his cold, calculating eyes swept the room once before settling on a group of men near the windows. My breath caught. Heat flooded my cheeks and pooled lower, between my thighs. I had only glimpsed him at the gala, but up close he was devastating. Dangerous. Everything I shouldn’t want… and everything I suddenly needed.

I forced myself to look away, gripping my glass of red wine tighter. Stay calm, Bianca. Observe. Plan.

But calm shattered in seconds.

A heavy-set man in a cheap suitSignor Gallo, some mid-level contractor with wandering hands cornered me against the bar. His breath reeked of garlic and alcohol. “Little Russo girl,” he slurred, leaning in too close. “All alone? Let me keep you company. A pretty thing like you needs a real man to”

His hand landed on my waist, fingers digging in. Wine sloshed over the rim of my glass, splashing across my chest and down the front of my dress in a dark red stain. Gasps rippled nearby. Humiliation burned my face as people turned to stare. I tried to step back, but Gallo pressed closer, laughing like it was a joke.

“Oops. Looks like you need help cleaning up,” he said, his hand sliding lower.

Before I could knee him in the groin, a deep voice cut through the air like a blade.

“Remove your hand before I remove it for you.”

Cristiano Moretti stood there, towering over Gallo. His voice was quiet, but every man within ten feet froze. Power rolled off him in waves. Gallo’s face went pale. He snatched his hand away so fast I nearly stumbled.

“D-Don Moretti,” Gallo stammered. “I was just”

“You were leaving.” Cristiano didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. Two of his men appeared silently and escorted Gallo out like the pathetic insect he was.

I stood there, wine dripping down my cleavage, heart hammering. Cristiano turned to me. Up close, his presence was overwhelming. His dark eyes traced the stain on my dress, then lifted to my face. Something flickered in the recognition, then interest.

“Are you alright, signorina?” he asked, voice low and rough.

I nodded, but my voice came out softer than I intended. “Thank you. I… I didn’t want to cause a scene.”

“You didn’t. He did.” Cristiano shrugged off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders without asking. The fabric was warm from his body, carrying his scent, sandalwood, smoke, and pure male dominance. It engulfed me. My n*****s hardened instantly against the damp dress, and a rush of wetness slicked between my legs. I pressed my thighs together, mortified and thrilled at the same time.

He guided me toward a quieter corner with a hand lightly at my lower back. The touch burned through the jacket. “Bianca Russo,” he said, as if tasting my name. “The quieter sister.”

“You know who I am.” My cheeks flushed deeper.

“I make it my business to know valuable people.” His gaze held mine, intense and unblinking. “That dress will stain. Let me have someone bring you a fresh one.”

I shook my head, suddenly bold despite the embarrassment. “It’s fine. Your jacket is… helping.” I pulled it tighter around me, inhaling his scent again. God, I was already obsessed. This man had saved me without hesitation, claimed control of the room in seconds, and now looked at me like I was the only person who mattered. My mind flooded with filthy images, his hands pinning me down, that powerful body driving into me, his voice growling my name as he claimed every inch.

Cristiano’s lips curved the tiniest fraction. “You’re trembling.”

“Not from fear,” I whispered before I could stop myself.

His eyes darkened. For a heartbeat, the air between us crackled with raw tension. I wanted him to push me against the wall right there, to slide his hand under the jacket and discover how wet I already was for him. But he only nodded once, controlled as ever.

“Stay out of trouble, Bianca.” He said my name like a caress. Then he walked away, leaving me wrapped in his jacket and burning from the inside out.

The rest of the evening passed in a haze. I watched him from afarhow he commanded every conversation, how men twice his age deferred to him. By the time Valentina found me on the terrace later, I was still wearing his jacket, my obsession already sinking roots deep into my soul.

Valentina leaned on the railing beside me, her red dress glowing under the city lights. Naples sprawled below us, beautiful and corrupt. She lit a cigarette and exhaled slowly.

“So… you met him,” she said, a knowing smile on her lips.

I nodded, trying to sound casual. “He helped me with Gallo. The pig spilled wine all over me.”

Valentina laughed softly. “Of course he did. Cristiano Moretti doesn’t miss opportunities to play heroe when it suits him.” She turned to me, eyes sparkling with that fearless hunger I knew so well. “I want him, Bianca. I’ve wanted him since the gala. He’s going to be mine.”

My stomach twisted. Jealousy, sharp and hot, stabbed through me. But I kept my face neutral, the way I always did. “You told me you were interested.”

“Interested?” Valentina smirked, taking another drag. “I’m going to seduce him. Strip away that cold control until he’s f*****g me like he owns me. He’s engaged to that Rossi b***h for politics, but he doesn’t love her. I can give him fire. Passion. Everything he’s missing.”

She admitted it so openly, so confidently. My sister, always the bold one. Always the one who took what she wanted. But this time… this time I couldn’t let her have him. Not without a fight. Cristiano had looked at me tonight. Really looked. His jacket still warmed my shoulders, his scent still clung to my skin. The obsession had already taken rootdark, possessive, all-consuming. I imagined sneaking into his world, manipulating the pieces until he saw only me. Until he pinned me beneath him and ruined me for anyone else.

“I understand,” I said quietly, touching her arm. “He is… unforgettable.”

Valentina didn’t notice the edge in my voice. She never did. She kissed my cheek and sauntered back inside, hips swaying, already planning her next move.

I stayed on the terrace, staring out at the city. My fingers traced the collar of his jacket. Mine, I thought. The word echoed in my mind like a vow. Cristiano Moretti had saved me tonight, but he had no idea what he’d awakened.

I was quieter than my sister. More dangerous. And now, I was completely, dangerously obsessed.

He would be mine. Even if I had to destroy everythingincluding Valentina’s dreamsto make it happen.