Mafia’s kiss

The café was empty. Alessia Moretti stood behind the worn espresso machine, the soft hum of its motor the only sound echoing in the dimly lit room. It was past midnight, and the streets of Milan were quiet, save for the occasional hiss of tires against rain-slicked pavement. She should’ve closed an hour ago, but something kept her here. Maybe it was the silence — a rare escape from the chaos of her life. The bell above the door chimed. Alessia glanced up, wiping her hands on a cloth. The man who stepped inside moved like a shadow — tall, broad-shouldered, his suit black as sin and perfectly tailored. His dark hair fell in soft waves across his forehead, and his face was sharp, like it had been carved from stone. But it was his eyes that froze her. Cold. Calculating. Dangerous. She swallowed. “We’re about to close.” The man ignored her, stepping further inside. The café lights cast shadows over his sharp features, but she could feel the weight of his gaze on her — a heavy, almost suffocating thing. “Alessia Moretti.” His voice was deep, smooth, like velvet wrapped around a blade. Her heart stumbled. “Do I know you?” “No.” He tilted his head. “But I know you.” She took a step back, gripping the counter behind her. “Who are you?” He smiled, slow and deliberate. “Dante Cavallero.” The name hit her like ice water. Cavallero. As in that Cavallero. The mafia family her father had warned her about. Ruthless. Bloodthirsty. Untouchable. “What do you want?” she whispered. He stepped closer, each movement calculated and smooth. “A debt.” She frowned. “What are you talking about?” Dante reached into his coat and pulled out a worn envelope. He slid it across the counter. Hesitant, Alessia picked it up and unfolded the paper inside. Her breath caught. It was her father’s signature — next to a sum of money that made her head spin. “This isn’t possible,” she whispered. “My father… he’s dead.” Dante leaned in, his breath warm against her skin. “And now the debt is yours.” Her heart pounded. “I don’t have that kind of money.” He smiled again, dark and predatory. “I don’t want your money.” His fingers brushed her cheek, making her shiver. “I want you.”