A Secret Admirer Reached Out to Her — The Mafia Boss Didn’t Take It Lightly

Aurora Romano had a problem. Well, technically she had three problems, but the first one was taking up most of her mental bandwidth at the moment. She’d had another dream about Franchesco Vitelli last night, and this time it involved his desk, her pushed up against it, and absolutely zero appropriate workplace boundaries.

She stared at that desk now, massive dark wood, imposing, and tried very hard not to blush. Senorita Romano. Aurora’s head snapped up. Franchesco stood in the doorway of his office, perfectly tailored suit, dark hair precisely styled, expression as unreadable as always. He looked like he’d stepped out of a magazine spread titled Intimidatingly Hot Italian Businessman.

Yes, Mr. Vatelli. She clutched her portfolio tighter, hoping he couldn’t read minds. You wanted to discuss the venue options, right? Yes, the venues. She followed him into the office, pointedly, not looking at the desk. I have photos. 6 months. She’d been working for Franchesco Vitelli for 6 months, planning his company’s events, charity gallas, fundraisers, networking dinners, 6 months of professional conversations, formal emails, and him calling her Senorita Romano like they were in a Victorian novel, 6 months of her having increasingly

inappropriate thoughts about her client while he treated her like a particularly efficient piece of office furniture. Aurora set her portfolio on the nope, not thinking about the desk, on the table, and pulled out her tablet instead. “I’ve narrowed it down to three options for the spring gala,” she said, switching into professional mode.

“It was easier to function when she pretended he was just another client, not the man who’d starred in her subconscious for the past 6 months. The first is the Atoria ballroom. classic, elegant, holds 400 guests comfortably. Franchesco moved to stand beside her, close enough that she caught his cologne, something expensive and cedar scented that made her want to lean closer like a total creep.

She did not lean closer. She was a professional. The second option is the waterfront plaza, she continued, swiping to the next photo. More modern floor toseeiling windows with city views. very Instagrammable. Instagrammable, Franchesco repeated, and she couldn’t tell if he was amused or judging her word choice. Your guests will post about it, Aurora explained. Free publicity. H.

[clears throat] That was his thinking sound. She’d learned his sounds over 6 months. The wh meant he was considering. The sharp Ben meant approved. The silence meant he was solving a problem she couldn’t see. There were a lot of things about Franchesco Vitelli she couldn’t see, like whether he’d ever looked at her as anything other than the woman who scheduled his events, or whether he even knew her first name.

He’d never used it, or whether he was single, though she’d seen a photo of him at some gala with a woman who looked like she modeled for Victoria’s Secret in her spare time. Aurora Romano with her sensible shoes and color-coded planner was decidedly not Victoria’s secret model material. And the third option, Franchesco prompted. She swiped to the last venue.

The manor house in her phone lit up on the table between them. A notification banner appeared across the top of the screen, visible to anyone standing nearby, which unfortunately included Francesco. Paulo Moretti, Bella, about tomorrow night. Can’t wait to see you in that dress again.

[clears throat] Wear the red one. Aurora’s stomach dropped. She grabbed for her phone, but Franchesco’s hand was already there, his fingers closing around her wrist. Not hard, just stopping her. Who? Franchesco said, his voice gone very quiet. Is Paulo Moretti. Oh no. Aurora’s brain stuttered. Franchesco was still holding her wrist, his grip gentle but immovable, his eyes fixed on her phone screen.

The temperature in the room had dropped approximately 20°. I He’s a friend, Aurora managed. Can I have my phone back? A friend? Franchesco’s thumb brushed against her pulse point. Could he feel how fast her heart was racing? You wear red dresses for friends. That’s It’s none of your business actually. She tugged her wrist.

He didn’t let go. Mr. Vatelli. Franchesco. Aurora blinked. What? My name is Francesco. Use it. His eyes finally left her phone to meet hers, and the intensity there made her breath catch. Now tell me about Paulo Moretti. I don’t understand why you tell me. Not a request. Aurora’s temper, which had been simmering under 6 months of professional courtesy, sparked.

No, you don’t get to demand explanations about my personal life. You’re my client, not my your what? Franchesco stepped closer, still holding her wrist, still looking at her like he could see straight through her. Not your what, Aurora? He’d said her name. Franchesco Vitelli had just said her first name for the first time in 6 months, and her brain was shortcircuiting.

“Not my boyfriend,” she finished weakly. “No.” His jaw tightened. “I’m not.” But Paulo Moretti isn’t going to be either. Excuse me. Franchesco released her wrist only to pick up her phone. Aurora made a grab for it, but he held it out of reach with one hand, unfairly easy given their height difference, while his other hand caught her waist to steady her when she nearly stumbled into him. “Hey.

” Aurora tried to sound authoritative. It came out breathless. “That’s my phone. You can’t just wear the red one.” Franchesco read, his accent thickening with what Aurora was beginning to recognize as anger. He’s texting you about dresses, saying he can’t wait. We’re going to dinner tomorrow. It’s not Give me my phone. No, no, you’re going to cancel.

Aurora gaped at him. I’m going to what? No, I’m not canceling my plans because my client is having some kind of possessive meltdown. [clears throat] I’m not having a meltdown, Franchesco said, which was rich considering he was currently reading through her messages with increasing fury. Christo, he texts you every morning. Good morning, Bella.

Thinking about you. Stop reading my texts. When’s the last time you saw him? Yesterday. Lunch. Not that it’s any of your yesterday. Franchesco looked up from the phone and Aurora took an involuntary step back. She’d never seen him look like this. Controlled Francesco. Professional Franchesco. Barely smiles. Franchesco had been replaced by someone who looked seconds away from breaking something.

You had lunch with Paulo Moretti yesterday. Yes. And I’m having dinner with him tomorrow. And you don’t get a say in. You’re not going. Yes, I am. Aurora. Franchesco set her phone down on the desk. the desk and Aurora was not thinking about that right now and took both her hands in his. His thumbs brushed over her knuckles. You’re not having dinner with Paulo Moretti tomorrow or ever again.

You can’t tell me who to date. I’m not telling you who to date. I’m telling you who you can’t date. Him. Specifically, him. Aurora yanked her hands free. This is insane. You’re being insane. I don’t understand what’s happening right now. What’s happening? Franchesco said, voice low and intense.

Is that you’re going to block that number and never speak to that man again. Why? Aurora demanded. Give me one good reason why I should listen to you. Because you’re mine. The words hung in the air between them. Aurora’s mind went completely blank. I’m what? Franchesco’s expression shifted, surprise flickering across his features like he hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but he didn’t take it back.

Instead, he stepped closer, backing her against the desk she’d been trying not to think about. “You heard me,” he said quietly. “I you we Aurora’s brain was offline. You never even used my first name before today. I’ve always known your name. You call me Senorita Romano because if I called you Aurora, I’d want to say it again and again, and I was trying to keep distance.

His hand came up to cup her face. It didn’t work. You treat me like office furniture. I treat you professionally because the alternative is very unprofessional. His thumb brushed her cheekbone. And you deserve better than my world. What world? You’re a businessman. Franchesco’s laugh was sharp. Is that what you think? You run an import export company, among other things.

What other things? Things you’re better off not knowing. He was so close now. Things that make Paulo Moretti very bad news for you. I don’t understand any of this. But Aurora wasn’t pulling away. Couldn’t pull away. 6 months of thinking he didn’t see her. And now he was looking at her like she was the only person in the world.

You never gave any indication you were interested. I gave many indications. You didn’t notice. Name one. I memorized your coffee order after you mentioned it once. I rescheduled three meetings because you said you had a migraine. I bought paintings from the artist you said you liked for the office lobby. I know you change your perfume with the seasons and that you bite your lip when you’re concentrating and that you light up when you talk about flowers.

He brushed a strand of hair from her face. I notice everything about you, Aurora. Her breath caught. Then why didn’t you? Because noticing and acting on it are different things. I wanted to keep you separate from my life. Safe. His expression darkened. And then Paulo [ __ ] Moretti decided to complicate everything.

What does Paulo have to do with this? Everything. Franchesco’s hand slid from her face to her neck, thumb resting against her pulse. He’s not what you think he is. Then tell me what he is. Someone who shouldn’t be anywhere near you. That’s not an answer. It’s the only answer you’re getting right now. Franchesco’s eyes dropped to her mouth.

So, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to pick up that phone, text Paulo that you can’t see him anymore, and block his number. And if I don’t, then I will. You can’t watch me. But he didn’t move to grab the phone. He just kept looking at her like he was memorizing every detail. or you can do it yourself and save us both the drama.

” Aurora’s temper flared again. “This [clears throat] is crazy. You’re being crazy. I barely know you outside of work. You’ve never asked me on a date. And now you’re trying to control who I see. I’m not trying to control you. I’m trying to protect you from what? From him? From consequences you don’t understand.” Franchesco’s jaw tightened.

And yes, I should have asked you to dinner months ago instead of keeping professional distance. I should have told you I noticed you the first day you walked into this office wearing that yellow dress and carrying too many binders. I should have done a lot of things differently. Aurora’s heart was hammering.

I wore a yellow dress the first day. You asked if there was a coffee machine and then got excited about the espresso maker. You said you’d never seen one that nice outside of Italy. a ghost of a smile. You have no idea how hard it was to stay professional when all I wanted was to ask if you’d ever been to Italy so I could offer to take you.

You remember that? I remember everything about you. His hand was still on her neck, warm and possessive. So yes, Aurora, you’re mine. I’m claiming that now clearly and publicly, so there’s no confusion. And that means Paulo Moretti needs to disappear from your life. You can’t just claim someone. I just did. That’s not how this works.

Then tell me I’m wrong. Franchesco leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear. Tell me you don’t feel this. Tell me you haven’t thought about me the way I’ve thought about you. Tell me you don’t want this as much as I do. Aurora couldn’t because she had thought about him constantly, inappropriately, in dreams that made her wake up flushed and guilty.

“I thought you only dated models,” she whispered. Franchesco pulled back, frowning. “What? I saw a photo. You were at some gala with a woman who looked like she walked runways.” That was 2 years ago. A business arrangement for an event. I haven’t dated anyone seriously in over 3 years. His thumb stroked her neck. And Aurora, I don’t want a model.

I want the woman who gets excited about flower arrangements and argues with caterers about menu options and bites her pen when she’s thinking. I want you. This is insane. Probably. He didn’t sound sorry. Are you going to block him? I Aurora’s phone buzzed again. They both looked at it. Paulo Moretti. Aurora, you there, Bella? Franchesco’s expression went dark.

Before Aurora could react, he picked up her phone, typed something, and showed her the screen. To Paulo, this is Franchesco Vitelli. Aurora won’t be available tomorrow or any other day. Lose this number. You did not just Aurora grabbed for the phone. Franchesco held it up. Block him or I will. You can’t send that.

Already did. He showed her the sent message, then started scrolling to the settings. Francesco, block him, Aurora. They stared at each other. His finger hovered over the block button. Her heart was racing. This was insane. He was insane. She should be furious. But underneath the anger was something else.

Something that felt dangerously like relief, like want, like 6 months of tension finally breaking open. Fine, Aurora said. Give me the phone. Franchesco hesitated, then handed it over, watching her carefully. Aurora pulled up Paulo’s contact, finger hovering over the block option. This is crazy. I know you’re crazy. I know that, too. I should walk out right now and never come back. You should.

Franchesco’s eyes were dark, intense. But you won’t. Aurora hit block. The silence that followed was deafening. There, she said, showing him the screen. Happy getting there. Franchesco took the phone and set it aside, then pulled her closer by the waist. For the record, that red dress he mentioned, I want to see you in it at dinner with me tomorrow night.

You’re taking me to dinner. I’m taking you to dinner and anywhere else you want to go and I’m making it very clear to everyone who looks at you that you’re off limits. Because I’m yours, Aurora said, testing the words. Because you’re mine, Franchesco confirmed. Is that a problem? Aurora should say yes.

Should point out that this was moving at light speed, that she barely knew him outside of work, that possessive Italian businessman with mysterious connections wasn’t exactly a safe bet. Instead, she heard herself say, “I have one condition. Name it. You tell me what you meant about Paulo being bad news about your world.” She put her hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat under the expensive suit.

I need to know what I’m getting into. Franchesco covered her hand with his. Not everything, not yet, but the basics. Paulo Moretti is from a family that competes with mine. Has for generations. We have agreements, territories, understandings, and him pursuing you crosses lines. What kind of family? The kind that operates in gray areas.

The kind where handshakes mean more than contracts and respect is currency? His jaw tightened. The kind you shouldn’t be involved with, which is why I tried to stay away from you. Aurora’s pulse jumped. Are you saying your I’m saying my business interests extend beyond importing olive oil? Yes. How far beyond? far enough that Pao knew exactly who you were when he approached you.

Franchesco’s expression hardened. He didn’t meet you by accident, Aurora. He knew you worked for me, and he pursued you anyway, which was either incredibly stupid or a calculated move. The pieces clicked together. He was using me to get to you, most likely. And you knew, I suspected. Then I saw his messages and stopped caring about suspicions.

He put his hands on what’s mine. Franchesco’s voice dropped. That changes everything. Aurora should be scared. Should be running. Instead, she felt anger bubbling up. So, he was playing me this whole time. Probably not the whole time, but yes, that [ __ ] Franchesco’s lips twitched. That [ __ ] is going to have a very interesting conversation with me soon.

Will he? Aurora paused. Are you going to hurt him? Do you want me to? I No. Maybe. I don’t know. She pressed her hands to her face. This is so much. I know. Franchesco gently pulled her hands away. Which is why I’m asking. Do you want to walk away right now? You can leave. Finish this event planning job remotely.

I’ll never contact you again outside of professional necessity. You’ll be safe. And if I stay, if you stay, everything changes. You’ll be mine in every way that matters, which means protected, but also watched, cared for, but also occasionally frustrated by my security measures. Spoiled, but also sometimes annoyed by my possessive tendencies.

He cuped her face. I won’t be an easy man to be with Aurora, but I’ll be yours completely. Aurora’s head was spinning. This morning, she’d woken up thinking Franchesco Vatelli barely knew she existed. Now he was offering her everything. I need to think, she said. Okay. Can I Can we finish talking about the venues first? I still need to do my job.

Franchesco studied her, then nodded. Okay, show me the third option. [clears throat] Just like that, they were back to business, except Franchesco’s hand stayed on her waist while they reviewed photos. And when Aurora explained the pros and cons of each venue, he stood close enough that their shoulders touched.

And when she bit her lip thinking about logistics, his thumb brushed her side. professional, but not the waterfront plaza. Franchesco decided, book it. That’s my recommendation, too. I’ll send the contract over tomorrow. Good. He turned her to face him fully. And Aurora, think fast. I’m not a patient man. Then he pressed a kiss to her forehead and stepped back, leaving her breathless and confused and more turned on than she’d been in her entire life.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said. “Wear the red dress. 7:00. I’ll pick you up.” Aurora grabbed her tablet with shaking hands. “You don’t know where I live.” “Yes, I do.” At her expression, he shrugged. “I know everything about you, remember? [clears throat] including that you live in a third floor walk up in Atoria and drink too much coffee and stay up too late working.

That’s creepy. That’s thorough. Franchesco opened the office door for her. 7:00. Aurora, don’t make me come find you. Is that a threat? It’s a promise. Aurora fled. She made it to her car before calling her best friend. Natalia, she said the moment the phone was answered. I need you to talk me down from a ledge. What happened? Did Mr.

Sexy Boss finally notice you exist? Worse, he noticed me 6 months ago and has apparently been restraining himself ever since. And also, he just made me block another guy and told me I’m his, and I think I just agreed to dinner with someone who might be in the mafia. Silence, then I’m coming over. Open wine. Start at the beginning.

Aurora drove home in a days, stopping for wine on the way. By the time Natalya arrived, she’d changed into sweats and had two glasses already poured. “Okay,” Natalyia said, kicking off her shoes and curling up on Aurora’s couch. “Spill everything,” Aurora spilled. the text from Paulo. Franchesco’s reaction, the your mind declaration, the implication that Franchesco was involved in things that weren’t strictly legal, the dinner invitation, all of it.

When she finished, Natalyia was staring at her with wide eyes. “First of all,” Natalyia said slowly. “You’ve been having sex dreams about your boss and didn’t tell me that’s what you’re focusing on? I’m building context. When did these dreams start? Like month two of working for him. And in these dreams, was there a desk involved? Aurora’s face heated.

Maybe girl. Natalya shook her head. Okay. Second, this Paulo guy. How long have you been seeing him? 3 weeks. We’ve had coffee a few times, lunch twice, and we were supposed to have dinner tomorrow. And you liked him? Aurora considered. He was nice, charming. He paid attention to me, which felt good after 6 months of Franchesco treating me like a calendar app.

Except Franchesco wasn’t treating you like a calendar app. He was memorizing everything about you and fighting not to jump you at work, apparently. That’s hot. That’s concerning. It’s both. Natalyia sipped her wine. So, the real question is, do you want this? Because Franchesco Vitelli just claimed you in front of well, in front of you, and he’s clearly not playing around.

I don’t know what I want, Aurora admitted. I’ve spent 6 months thinking he didn’t see me. Then, I spent 3 weeks enjoying attention from Paulo. And now suddenly Franchesco is possessive and intense and talking about protecting me from his world, which sounds super sketchy by the way. But but Aurora groaned, but I’ve wanted him since day one.

And finding out he wanted me back this whole time, that he was keeping distance on purpose. That makes it worse or better. I don’t know. What does your gut say? Aurora thought about the way Franchesco had looked at her. The way he’d said her name, the way his hand had felt on her waist, possessive and sure. My gut says I’m going to that dinner tomorrow.

In the red dress. In the red dress. Natalyia grinned. That’s my girl. But Aurora, be careful if he’s really involved in organized crime. I know. I know it’s dangerous. I know I should run. Aurora refilled both their glasses. But I can’t stop thinking about him. And now that I know he feels the same way. You want to see where this goes.

I want to see where this goes. Then wear the red dress, Natalya said. And text me when you get home so I know you’re alive. And if he’s weird or scary or crosses any lines, you call me immediately and I’ll come get you. Deal. They finished the wine discussing logistics. What Aurora should wear, how she should do her hair, whether Franchesco seemed like the type to take her somewhere fancy or somewhere private.

By the time Natalya left, Aurora was feeling slightly more stable. Then her phone buzzed. Franchesco, sleep well, Aurora. Tomorrow is going to change everything. Aurora stared at the message, heart racing. Aurora, is that another threat or another promise? Franchesco, both sweet dreams. Aurora definitely did not sleep well. The next day crawled by.

Aurora worked from home, confirming vendors for the gala and trying very hard not to think about the evening. She failed spectacularly. At 5:00, she gave up pretending to work and started getting ready. The red dress was her favorite. Fitted, hitting just above the knee with a neckline that was professional enough for work events, but low enough to be interesting.

She’d worn it to a networking dinner 2 weeks ago, which was apparently where Paulo had seen it. Now she was wearing it for Franchesco. Aurora did her hair in loose waves, makeup more dramatic than her usual work look. Heels that made her legs look good. perfume, the winter one, bergamont and vanilla that Franchesco had apparently noticed her switch to.

At 6:55, her phone buzzed. Franchesco, I’m outside. Aurora grabbed her clutch, checked herself one more time in the mirror, and headed downstairs. Franchesco was leaning against a black car that probably cost more than her annual salary, wearing a suit that fit him like it was made for him, which [clears throat] it probably was.

When he saw her, he straightened, eyes tracking her from heels to hair. “Aura,” her name came out rough. “You look like I clean up, okay?” she offered, suddenly nervous. Like every man who sees you tonight is going to wish he was me. Franchesco opened the car door for her. Get in before I change my mind about taking you somewhere public.

Aurora slid into the car, hyper aware of his eyes on her. When he got in the driver’s side, the space felt smaller, charged with tension. Where are we going? Aurora asked. Moposto, Italian on the waterfront. I know the owner. Of course you do. Franchesco’s lips quirked. I know the owner of most restaurants in the city. It’s useful for your import export business, among other things.

They drove in comfortable silence. Aurora sneaking glances at his profile. In the close quarters of the car, she could smell his cologne again, could see the way his hands moved on the steering wheel. Capable hands, strong. She was thinking about those hands again when Franchesco spoke. What are you thinking about? Nothing. Liar. He glanced at her.

Your pulse is racing. I can see it in your neck. Maybe I’m nervous. You’re not nervous. You’re thinking about something that’s making you blush. Aurora crossed her legs. I’m not blushing. Aurora. Her name again. Low and amused. I told you. I notice everything about you. That’s still creepy. You don’t think it’s creepy.

You think it’s interesting. Franchesco turned onto the waterfront road. So, what were you thinking about? Your hands? Aurora admitted because apparently her filter had malfunctioned. My hands on the steering wheel. I was Never mind. No, please finish that thought. Franchesco’s voice had dropped an octave. You were what? Thinking about them on other things, Aurora muttered.

The car swerved slightly before Franchesco corrected. Katso. What? Nothing. Just he pulled into a parking spot and turned to face her fully. Just that if you keep talking like that, we’re not making it to dinner. Aurora’s breath caught. That would be unprofessional. I stopped being professional the moment I told you that you were mine.

Franchesco reached over, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. But I’m going to feed you first, and then we’re going to talk, and then then we’ll see where the evening goes. He got out of the car before she could respond. The restaurant was exactly as fancy as Aurora expected. Low lighting, crisp white tablecloths, waiters in perfect uniforms.

The host greeted Franchesco by name and led them to a corner table with a view of the water. Mr. Vatelli, your usual table, and may I say, your companion is lovely this evening. Thank you, Marco. We’ll start with the Keianti Classico 2015. Once they were seated, Aurora raised an eyebrow. Your usual table.

I eat here often. Business dinners with models. Franchesco’s eyes gleamed. Jealous? Curious. I haven’t brought anyone here in over 2 years. Franchesco said. Business dinners are work. This is not work. What is this? This is me taking out the woman I’ve wanted for 6 months and finally getting to look at her the way I’ve wanted to since she walked into my office in a yellow dress.

Aurora’s face heated. You really remember that? I remember everything. Franchesco leaned back as the waiter poured wine. Once they were alone again, he [clears throat] continued, “I remember you asked if the office had good coffee. I remember you smiled at my assistant when she was having a bad day. I remember you brought canoli to a meeting and said your grandmother’s recipe was better than any bakeries.

You remember canoli? I remember you had powdered sugar on your lip and I wanted to kiss it off. Franchesco’s eyes tracked to her mouth. I remember a lot of things I wanted to do but didn’t because I was trying to be professional, trying to keep you separate from my life. Why? Because you’re good, Aurora.

You light up talking about centerpieces and color schemes. You get excited about seating arrangements. You’re the kind of person who should have a normal life with a normal man who comes home at normal hours. Franchesco’s jaw tightened. I’m not that man. What kind of man are you? The kind who makes people nervous.

The kind who solves problems that can’t be solved legally. The kind whose phone calls make things happen that shouldn’t happen. [clears throat] He studied her. The kind who shouldn’t be anywhere near someone like you but can’t seem to stay away. Aurora sipped her wine processing. So when you said your business extends beyond importing olive oil, I meant it literally. We do import olive oil also.

Wine, cheese, various Italian goods. All legitimate. But there are other interests, other arrangements. with families like Paulo’s. Yes and no. Paulo’s family is in the same business, but we’re not partners. We’re Francesco paused, choosing words carefully. We have agreements, territories. We stay out of each other’s way usually.

And Paulo coming after me broke those agreements. Not technically, but it’s disrespectful, a provocation. Franchesco’s expression hardened. Whether he did it intentionally to get to me or because he genuinely liked you doesn’t matter. The result is the same. He crossed a line. What happens now with him? I mean, I’ll handle it.

That’s not ominous at all. I’m not going to hurt him if that’s what you’re worried about, but we’re going to have a conversation about boundaries and respect, and he’s going to understand that you’re off limits. Because I’m yours, Aurora said. Because you’re mine, Francesco confirmed. Unless you’re planning to argue about that again.

I’m still deciding how I feel about it. Take your time, but while you’re deciding, know that I’m not going anywhere. and I’m not sharing. The waiter arrived to take their order, giving Aurora a moment to collect herself. This was insane. All of it. She should be running. Should be calling Natalya to come get her.

Instead, when the waiter left, she heard herself say, “Tell me something real. Something that has nothing to do with business or Paulo or any of this.” Franchesco tilted his head. What do you want to know? Why me? You could have anyone. You probably have women throwing themselves at you constantly. So why the event planner who color codes her calendar? Because you color code your calendar, Franchesco said simply.

Because you get excited about lighting design and argue with caterers about sustainable sourcing. Because you’re brilliant at what you do, but don’t realize it. Because you bit your lip the first time you showed me venue options, and I wanted to bite it, too. Aurora’s breath hitched. Because you’re real, Francesco continued.

Everything in my life is calculated, planned, political. But you walk into rooms and make them brighter without trying. You care about things that don’t matter to most people. Flowers, napkin colors, whether the wine pairs with the fish course. And when you smile, he shook his head. When you smile like you’re genuinely happy about something small and perfect, I forget why I was trying to stay away from you, Francesco.

And because you’re sitting here with me, even after learning what I am, which is either very brave or very stupid, but either way, it’s very you. Their food arrived. They ate and talked. real conversation this time, not just work. Aurora learned that Franchesco had grown up in Italy but moved to the States at 18.

That he spoke four languages, that he hated mornings but loved espresso. That he’d learned to cook from his nona but never had time to do it anymore. She told him about growing up in Queens, about studying event planning in college, about her grandmother’s canoli recipe that he’d remembered, about Natalia and her tendency to give terrible dating advice, about her apartment that was too expensive and too small, but had good light.

By the time dessert came, Aurora had almost forgotten this wasn’t a normal date with a normal man. Then Franchesco’s phone buzzed. He glanced at it, expression darkening. I need to make a call. Excuse me for a moment. He stepped away from the table, phone to his ear, his body language shifting into something harder, more dangerous.

This was Franchesco, the businessman, the one who made things happen that shouldn’t happen. [clears throat] Aurora sipped her wine and tried not to stare. When he returned, his expression was carefully neutral. I’m sorry. Work. Everything okay? It will be. Franchesco settled back into his seat. Paulo won’t be bothering you anymore.

Aurora’s pulse jumped. What does that mean? It means we had a conversation. He understands the situation now. Franchesco, what did you do? Nothing dramatic. We talked. He apologized. We reached an understanding. Franchesco’s eyes met hers. He knows you’re off limits now. He won’t contact you again. Did you threaten him? I clarified boundaries.

Whether he took that as a threat is his interpretation. That’s not reassuring. I’m not trying to be reassuring. I’m trying to keep you safe. Franchesco reached across the table to take her hand. Paulo’s family and mine have complicated history. Him pursuing you, whether innocent or not, put you in the middle of something you shouldn’t be part of.

Now you’re not in the middle anymore. You’re protected by being yours. By being mine, Francesco agreed. Is that really so terrible? Aurora looked at their joined hands. His thumb was tracing circles on her palm, casual and possessive at once. This morning, she’d thought Franchesco Vitelli barely noticed her.

Now she was holding his hand at dinner while he casually mentioned having conversations that made rival family members back off. I don’t know yet, she admitted. Ask me again in a few days. I can do that. Franchesco signaled for the check. Now I’m taking you home. And before you protest, I mean your home. I’m dropping you off like a gentleman.

A gentleman who told me I’m his before even asking me on a date. A gentleman with very poor timing. Yes. Franchesco helped her with her coat. But I’m also a man who keeps his word. And I promised myself that if I ever got you to say yes to dinner, I’d do it right. Which means taking you home, walking you to your door, and restraining every instinct I have to follow you inside.

Aurora’s mouth went dry. Every instinct. Every single one. Franchesco’s hand settled on her lower back as they walked to the car. So, unless you want to test my self-control, I suggest you don’t invite me up. The drive back to Aurora’s apartment was charged with tension. [clears throat] Every time Franchesco’s hand shifted on the steering wheel, Aurora thought about him touching her instead.

Every time he glanced at her, her skin felt too warm. When they pulled up outside her building, Aurora didn’t immediately get out. “Thank you for dinner,” she said. “Thank you for not running when you had the chance.” “I’m still deciding if that was smart. Let me know what you decide.” Franchesco got out and came around to open her door.

Then he walked her to the building entrance, his hand on her back, his presence solid and warm beside her. At her door, Aurora turned to face him. So, gentlemen, door drop off. Exactly as promised. But Franchesco’s eyes were dark, tracking over her face like he was memorizing it. Unless, Unless, he stepped closer. Unless you’re going to tell me you want me to come upstairs.

Aurora’s heart hammered. This was it. The moment where she decided if she was really doing this, if she was really choosing the mysterious Italian businessman with connections to organized crime and a possessive streak that should probably concern her, but mostly just made her feel wanted. She thought about 6 months of thinking she was invisible, 6 months of professional distance, 6 months of wishing Franchesco Vitelli would look at her like she mattered.

He was looking at her like that now. Come upstairs, Aurora said. Franchesco’s control visibly cracked. Aurora, please. She took his hand. Come upstairs. He followed her up three flights of stairs, his hand in hers, neither of them speaking. Aurora’s hands shook as she unlocked her apartment door. Natalya had made her promise to text when she got home safe.

Aurora would text later, much later. The moment the door closed behind them, Franchesco pulled her against him. “Tell me now if you want me to leave,” he said, his voice rough. “Because once I start kissing you, I’m not going to want to stop.” “Then don’t stop.” Franchesco’s mouth was on hers before she finished speaking. The kiss was nothing like Aurora had imagined in her fantasies.

It was better. Desperate and consuming, Franchesco’s hands in her hair, her back against the door. Six months of tension poured into one kiss, then another, then another. Bedroom, Aurora managed between kisses. Where? She pointed. Franchesco lifted her, actually lifted her, and carried her down the hall.

Aurora would have laughed at the romance novel cliche, except she was too busy kissing his neck. Her bedroom was small and cluttered with work supplies. Franchesco didn’t seem to notice or care. He set her down beside the bed, hands sliding to the zipper of her red dress. This dress, he murmured against her neck.

You have no idea what it did to me seeing you wear this for him. Jealous? Furious? The zipper slid down, but you’re wearing it for me now. I wore it for you all along, Aurora admitted. I hoped you’d notice. I noticed. Franchesco peeled the dress off her shoulders. I noticed everything about you, remember? Then there was no more talking for a while.

Later, much later, Aurora lay against Franchesco’s chest, her bedroom dark except for the street light filtering through the curtains. Franchesco’s hand traced patterns on her shoulder, lazy and content. I should probably go, he murmured, but didn’t move. Probably. I have early meetings tomorrow. Mhm. And you need sleep.

Do I? Franchesco shifted to look at her. You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into, do you? Probably not. Aurora traced his jaw. But I’m figuring it out. I wasn’t lying earlier about my world, about what being with me means. I know. You’ll have to trust me sometimes without questions. You’ll have to accept that I can’t tell you everything.

You’ll have to Francesco. Aurora kissed him quiet. I’m still here, aren’t I? For now. For now, she agreed. Ask me again tomorrow how I feel about it. Tomorrow I’m taking you to breakfast and then lunch and then dinner if you’ll let me. That’s a lot of meals. I have 6 months to make up for. Aurora smiled against his chest.

Then you should probably stay tonight. Early start tomorrow and all. Franchesco’s arm tightened around her. Are you sure? I’m not sure about anything right now except that I want you here. Then I’m here. He pressed a kiss to her hair. For as long as you’ll have me. Aurora’s phone buzzed on the nightstand. She grabbed it, laughing when she saw 47 missed messages from Natalyia.

Natalyia, girl, where are you? Natalyia, did you go home with him? Natalyia, are you alive? Natalyia, if you’re dead, I’ll kill you. Aurora, alive. Very alive. Call you tomorrow. Natalyia, you’re at his place, aren’t you? Aurora, maybe. Natalyia, I want every detail. Francesco read over her shoulder. Don’t you dare.

Aurora laughed. Possessive much? You have no idea. Good thing I like it. She tossed the phone aside and pulled Franchesco back down for another kiss. Tomorrow she’d process everything. Tomorrow she’d figure out what it meant to be with someone like Franchesco Vitelli. Tomorrow she’d worry about consequences and complications.

Tonight she was just going to enjoy the fact that the man she’d thought didn’t see her had apparently been seeing everything all along and was never going to look away. If you enjoyed Aurora and Franchesco’s story, subscribe to Mafia Tales for more dangerous romances where powerful men meet their match.

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