Mated To The Mafia Boss

The Mission Begins

Lyra’s POV

The Next Day

“I’ll bring down whoever did this to you,” I whispered, removing my black sunglasses to wipe away the single tear that escaped.

The sky was gray, blanketed with clouds that threatened rain. Maybe it was fitting. The heavens felt just as heavy as my heart.

I bent slowly, my knees creaking under the weight of grief, and placed two bouquets of white lilies—one on each grave.

“Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad.” My voice cracked. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be here yesterday… I was chasing another monster.”

The cemetery was quiet. Still. But it wasn’t peaceful, not to me. The wind brushed against my coat, lifting strands of my hair and raising goosebumps across my skin. Something about this place always felt too silent, like even the dead were holding their breath.

I looked at their etched smiles on the polished black stone. Frozen in time. Perfect. Untouchable.

God, I missed them.

My parents weren’t just successful. They were loved. They built a business empire in the heart of Milan, a clean, thriving, and respected. They didn’t mess with anyone. Never made enemies.

But someone made them targets.

Assassinated. Brutally.

For what?

I swallowed hard, stepping closer to my father’s grave. My fingers traced the engraving of his name. A thousand memories surfaced in my heart, his laugh, his advice, the way he always called me piccola, his little girl.

“Life hasn’t been easy, Dad,” I whispered.

And just like that, my mind dragged me back.

Four years ago. The day everything ended.

I was seventeen. Carefree. Still naive enough to believe that evil only existed in the news.

The sun was warm that afternoon. I’d just come back from the bookstore, excited to show Mom a new novel. I still remember the scent of cinnamon from her baking clinging to the hall.

“Daddy? Mommy?” I called as I opened the door.

The world stopped.

Two stretchers were being pushed through the hallway. Medics moved fast, yelling commands. Red lights flashed through the windows.

I froze.

Then I ran.

“No—no! What happened?!” I screamed.

No one answered. I shoved past a medic and tore the white sheet away.

My mother.

Her skin was cold. Her lips parted slightly like she’d died mid-breath. There was blood on her blouse. Dried. Brown.

I backed away, trembling.

Then I saw the second stretcher.

My father.

He still had a knife buried in his chest.

I dropped to my knees. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t scream. The pain didn’t hit all at once, it came in waves. Crushing ones.

“Who did this?” I choked. “Who the hell did this to you?!”

But there was no answer.

Just sirens. And the crushing, endless silence that followed.

Back in the present, I gripped the edge of the headstone as my knees threatened to give out.

“I promise I won’t stop until I find who did this,” I whispered. “And I swear to God, when I do…”

I looked up at the sky, the wind suddenly rising.

“…they’ll wish they died before I found them.”

I stood tall. Wiped the last tear from my cheek.

Then I turned and walked out of the cemetery, heels crunching against gravel, the fire in my chest burning hotter than ever.

Just as I reached the gates, my phone buzzed with a message. “Meet me at our usual spot. Now.”

It was from my uncle, my boss. A senior operative under SIRIO.

I swung onto my motorcycle and took off, the engine roaring like the storm inside me. The city blurred past in streaks of gray and steel as I sped toward our meeting point which was the rooftop of an old government building we used for unofficial meetups.

He was already there when I arrived.

“Good day, Uncle,” I said, stepping off the bike.

He stood still, his arms folded. A man in his late fifties, short, sharp-eyed, with a face carved from stone. His expression, as always, is unreadable.

“You did good yesterday, Lyra,” he said, clapping me lightly on the back.

I nodded, hiding the small wince. Maybe it was how I carried myself. Maybe it was the cold fire in my eyes. Either way, he often forgot I was a woman.

Or maybe he just didn’t care.

“I’m proud,” he added, voice low but firm.

Then came the shift. His gaze hardened.

“But we’ve got another assignment.”

He pulled a thin file from inside his coat and handed it to me. No words. Just the weight of something dangerous.

I opened it and I froze.

A man stared up at me from the photograph. Forties. Dark hair. Eyes like steel. Dangerously attractive.

I couldn’t stop the flicker of heat that stirred inside me.

“This is your next target,” Uncle John said.

“He’s the leader of the Volkov Mafia which is one of the deadliest crime families in Eastern Europe.”

I raised a brow. “You want me to kill him?”

“No,” he replied. “You’re going to infiltrate his world.”

I stiffened.

“You’ve been hired as his new personal secretary,” he continued. “Your application’s been handled. The background? Clean and believable. You start tomorrow.”

I narrowed my eyes. “And what exactly am I looking for?”

“Intel. Names. Deals. Secrets. Anything that links him to his dangerous job.”

A beat of silence passed.

Then he added, “Use your feminine side. Get close. Get inside.”

I stared back at the photo, heart pounding.

Dangerously sexy….

This was another mission, and I had no idea what I was walking into.

“You start tomorrow.”

I stared at the photo again. His face. Cold. Calculated. Seductive. A man like that didn’t trust easily. Which made my job even harder and far more dangerous.

But I was ready. No… I was starving for it

The call came in just after I left Uncle. The Volkov office had bumped up the schedule….“a sudden availability,” the assistant said. Bullshit. They were testing me.

I welcomed the challenge.

The building towered above the city like a sleeping beast, sleek, black glass and chrome, with tinted windows that offered no glimpse inside. Just like the man who ran it.

I stepped through the lobby with measured grace, my heels sounding against marble floors, I dressed in a fitted black suit that hugged every curve. My hair was swept up. Minimal makeup. I stay controlled and very calm. But my heart was racing.

“Miss Valtieri?” a woman in a red blazer greeted me at the elevator.

“Yes.”

“Follow me. Mr. Volkov will see you now.”

No orientation. No paperwork. Straight into the lion’s den.

Perfect.

The elevator doors opened to the top floor. The woman stepped aside. “He’s waiting.” She said.

I took a deep breath, steeled my spine, and walked in.

His office was a fortress of dark wood, metal, and glass. Shadows clung to every corner. The scent of expensive cologne and tobacco lingered in the air.

And there he was. Standing by the window.

A tailored suit hugged his broad shoulders. His hands were clasped behind his back. And when he turned…

My breath caught.

He has a sharp jaw. Ice-blue eyes. His hair slicked back with just a hint of mess. He looked like sin wrapped in silk, and I was supposed to play secretary to this?

“Miss Valtieri,” he said, his voice sounding very smooth, deep, lethal. “You’re early.”

“You bumped up the meeting,” I replied, stepping forward. “I adjust quickly.”

A flicker of amusement touched his lips. “I like that.”He said as he walked toward me, in a slow and deliberate manner.

“You’ll find I’m a man of very high standards,” he said, eyes raking over me. “I don’t tolerate mistakes.”

“I don’t make them.”

Silence erupted between us, crackling with something electric.

Finally, he smirked. “We’ll see about that.”