"Nobody is allowed between these pretty little thighs but me....and if anyone tries...𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦."
~
They call him The King-a ghost who rules the world's most powerful mafia from the shadows. No face. No mercy. No mistakes.
And beside...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The city below glowed like a circuit board—silent, electric, alive.
Matteo stood near the edge of the balcony, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a cigarette he hadn't lit. The wind toyed with the hem of his coat, sharp and cool against the heat that still clung to his skin from the day's chaos. His eyes were fixed on nothing in particular, just... watching.
Then footsteps.
He didn't have to turn. He knew it was her.
Ida moved like smoke—quiet, elegant, edged with something dangerous. She wore a long black coat cinched at the waist, heels clicking softly on the concrete until they stopped a pace behind him.
"I thought you didn't like heights," Matteo said without looking back.
"I don't," Ida replied, stepping up beside him, her arms crossed. "But I like knowing who's standing on the edge."
He smirked faintly, still not meeting her gaze. "You're poetic when you're suspicious."
"And you're relaxed when you're hiding something."
That made him look at her.
God, she was gorgeous under city light—light skin catching the glow, eyes lined with quiet danger, lips set in that near-smile that could shatter someone if they weren't careful. Her earrings caught the wind and glinted like they had secrets of their own.
"You came all the way up here just to interrogate me?" he asked, voice low, amused.
"No," she said. "I came to see if you'd admit it first."
Matteo turned fully now, leaning back against the railing, body loose but gaze sharp.
"Admit what?"
"That you're playing both sides."
He blinked. Just once.
Then smiled, slow and smooth. "You think I'd tell you if I was?"
Ida shrugged, stepping closer and tilting her head. "You've told me more for less."
He chuckled, soft and low. "You are dangerous."
"No," she said, eyes glittering. "I'm worse than dangerous."
She was close now—close enough for him to catch the scent of her perfume, something warm and spiced, like cardamom and fire. Her gaze dropped for a heartbeat to his lips before flicking away again, sharper now.
"I saw you with Blade earlier," she said. "You were tense."
"So were his hands."
"And now you're up here, not reporting. Just... waiting."
