man_dhaliwal
In the chaos of Mumbai's Colaba streets, a luxury black Bugatti stopped right in the middle of the market, scattering vendors and honking rickshaws. Out stepped Alessandro Moretti - Italy's most feared mafia don, dressed in a white shirt rolled to his elbows, tattoos crawling up his veins like sin itself.
He was in India for blood, not love.
But then, she crashed into him - literally - holding a bucket of marigolds and muttering something in Hindi that made him forget how to breathe.
Her eyes were fire.
Her mouth, a war he was ready to lose.
And when she yelled at him for blocking traffic, Alessandro, the man who made empires burn, only smirked and whispered -
"Bellissima... I think I just found my chaos."
From that day, he didn't care about borders, bullets, or business wars. He cared only about her - the stubborn Indian girl who hated men like him and made his criminal empire tremble with one look.
Because love was never meant to be this messy.
But neither was the mafia.