The Plus-Size Manager Threw the Mafia Boss Out… Then He Revealed He Owned the Building

She shoved a ruthless cartel air out the glass doors of St. Louis most exclusive club, expecting a bullet for her defiance. Instead, Alio Ferrari simply straightened his suit, looked at her curves with ravenous intent, and whispered a secret that made her blood run cold. He owned the building. The midday sun blasted through the floor toseeiling windows of the sovereign, a private members club catering to the absolute elite of St. Louis.

 There were no shadows to hide in today. The light caught the gold leaf trimmings on the Corinthian columns, illuminated the dust moes dancing over the imported Italian marble floors, and cast a blinding, unforgiving glare over the Mississippi River. just blocks away. It was a beautiful, razor sharp Tuesday afternoon, the kind of day where the city old money felt invincible.

 Daniela Romano stood at the apex of the grand staircase, a leatherbound clipboard pressed against her chest. She was a woman who commanded space both literally and figuratively. In an industry that demanded women be as thin, delicate, and transparent as crystal champagne flutes. Dianiela was a fullbodied glass of dark, heavy vintage wine.

 Her plus-siz figure was draped in a perfectly tailored charcoal pants suit that hugged her wide hips and generous chest, projecting pure authority. She had fought tooth and nail for her position as general manager, enduring the snears of wealthy patrons and the condescension of thin wafish socialites who thought she belonged in the kitchen, not the boardroom.

 But Dianiela had a mind like a steel trap and the resilience of a cornered lioness. She remembered every guest favorite drink, anticipated every crisis, and managed the delicate egos of Missouri high society with unmatched precision. Nobody did it better. But right now, an ego in the sunlit dining room was threatening to tear her perfectly ordered, fiercely protected world apart.

Emlio Ferrari. I was sitting at the center table, bathed in brilliant noon sunlight that made his sharp patrician features look as though they were carved from granite. Alio was the undisputed head of the Ferrari syndicate, a ruthless, blood soaked organization that controlled the underground ports, extortion rackets, and gambling rings from Chicago all the way down to the Gulf of Mexico.

He was a man accustomed to the dark, a phantom of the underworld. Yet here he sat in the glaring daylight, wearing a bespoke navy suit that cost more than a luxury sedan. He was flanked by four massive enforcers whose bulging jackets ruined the sophisticated aesthetic of the dining room.

 Across from Alio sat a terrified Union boss who was currently bleeding from his nose onto the pristine imported white tablecloth. Dianiela marched down the stairs, her heels clicking aggressively against the marble. The entire dining room had gone dead silent. The clinking of fine silverware had ceased. The jazz pianist had frozen in the middle of a complex cord.

Every politician, CEO, and socialite was holding their breath, staring at the mafia boss who had brought extreme violence into their sacred sanctuary. Dianiela did not care who Alio Ferrari was. She cared that he was ruining her linen, terrifying her weight staff, and breaking the most sacred rule of the sovereign in broad daylight.

 Excuse me, Dianiela said, her voice cutting through the tense, suffocating silence of the room. The four enforcers shifted instantly, their hands dropping toward their concealed holsters, but Alio raised a single, heavily scarred finger. The men froze. Alio turned his head slowly, his dark, dead eyes locking onto Daniela.

For a fraction of a second, the breath hitched in her throat. The sheer predatory aura radiating from the man was paralyzing. But Daniela had spent her entire life standing up to bullies who thought her weight made her weak, who thought her softness equated to easy submission. She squared her shoulders, pushing her chest out, refusing to shrink under his heavy, crushing gaze. “Mr.

 Ferrari, Dianiela said, keeping her tone crisp, loud, and entirely professional. This is a private club. We have strict rules regarding patron conduct, and physical violence is at the absolute top of the prohibited list. You are bleeding on my imported linens, and you are thoroughly upsetting the afternoon tea service.” Emilio stared at her.

 The silence stretched, thick and dangerous. His gaze dropped from her flashing dark eyes down to the proud swell of her breasts, sweeping over the deep curve of her waist and the wide flare of her hips. It was not a look of disgust, nor was it the polite, dismissive glance she often received from wealthy, arrogant men.

It was a look of pure unadulterated consumption. He looked at her as if he wanted to devour her right there in the sunlight, pulling apart her tailored suit to get to the softness beneath. “Is that so?” Alio rumbled, his voice a grally, dark baritone that seemed to vibrate directly in Dianiela chest.

 “And who might you be?” Tasoro. I am Daniela Romano, the general manager of this establishment, and I am asking you to leave now.” The bleeding union boss whimpered, a pathetic sound that echoed in the quiet room, [clears throat] but nobody paid him any mind. The enforcers stared at Dianiela as if she were a ghost, clearly expecting Alio to pull his weapon and end her life for the sheer disrespect.

Nobody ordered Alio Ferrari out of a room. [clears throat] Not ever. Alio slowly stood up. He was a towering figure, broadshouldered and imposing, moving with the lazy, terrifying grace of an apex predator. He bypassed the table and closed the distance between them until he was mere inches away. Dianiela had to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs.

 The scent of him wrapped around her, a dizzying blend of sandalwood, expensive tobacco, and a sharp metallic hint of fresh blood. “You have a lot of fire,” Daniela Romano, Alio murmured, his Italian accent thick, smooth, and intoxicating. A beautiful, lush woman with a spine of forged steel. It is a very rare combination. I am intrigued.

 Flattery will not save your membership status today, Mr. Ferrari. The door is directly behind you. If you do not walk through it immediately, I will have security escort you out. A dark, deeply amused smirk played on Alio lips. He leaned in. his mouth hovering just beside her ear. His breath was hot against her skin, sending an involuntary shiver down her spine despite her best efforts to remain rigid and unaffected. Security.

Cannot save you from me, he whispered softly, the threat wrapped in dark velvet. But I admire your absolute courage. I will leave for now. Alilio pulled back, his eyes dropping to her plush lips before sweeping over her voluuptuous figure one last time. He gave a sharp nod to his men. The enforcers hauled the bleeding union man up by his collar and dragged him roughly toward the exit.

 Alio followed, walking backwards for a few steps, just to keep his eyes on Daniela, as if committing every lush curve and every defiant glare to his permanent memory. When the heavy glass doors finally shut behind him, sealing out the danger, Daniela let out a shaky breath, her knees trembling slightly beneath her slacks.

 She had just kicked the most dangerous man in St. Louisie out of her club in front of half the city elite. She survived, but the burning obsessive intensity in his eyes told her this was far from over. The next afternoon, the midday sun was just as bright, casting a warm [clears throat] golden glow over the polished mahogany bars and plush velvet seating of the club private lounge.

 The room was empty, save for the dust moes dancing in the brilliant beams of light. Dianiela felt entirely exhausted. She had spent the entire morning fielding frantic phone calls from panicked board members who had heard about the incident with the Ferrari syndicate. They were terrified of violent retaliation. Dianiela had reassured them that she had everything under control, relying on her immaculate professional record and her unyielding composure to soothe their frazzled nerves.

 But inside, her stomach was tied in agonizing knots. She could not stop thinking about Amelia. The way he had looked at her, like she was the only feast he had ever wanted to consume, made her skin flush with a highly confusing mixture of mortal terror and deep forbidden desire. Her troubled thoughts were violently interrupted by the loud slamming of the lounge doors.

 Clive Carol stroed into the sunlit room, flanked by two burly, unsmiling men. Clive was a local real estate developer with deep, cancerous ties to corrupt city officials and the underground drug trade. He was a vile, slimy man with a receding hairline, expensive but poorly fitted clothes, and a permanent cruel sneer on his face. Clive had been trying to strongarm the club board into selling him the property for months, intending to gut the historic building and turn it into a high-rise front for his illicit laundering operations.

Worse than his business tactics was his disgusting, mocking obsession with Dianiela. He loved to torment her. He represented every horrible standard of the world, constantly using her weight as a punchline, while simultaneously trying to corner her in empty hallways when no one was looking.

 He was a predator of opportunity. “Well, well, well, if it is not the club favorite fat cow,” Clive sneered, his voice echoing loudly in the quiet sunlit afternoon. Dianiela immediately stiffened, her hands gripping the edge of the polished mahogany bar to steady herself. “Mr. Caro, you are not scheduled for a meeting today, and considering your membership was indefinitely suspended last month for harassing my weight staff, you are legally trespassing.

 I suggest you turn around.” Clive laughed, a harsh, grating sound that scraped against Dianiela nerves. He walked aggressively up to the bar, invading her personal space, his eyes roaming over her curves with obvious theatrical revulsion masking his toxic entitlement. I do not care about your stupid little rules.

 Dianiela, I heard you made a massive fatal mistake yesterday. You pissed off the Ferrari syndicate in front of an audience. The board of directors is absolutely terrified. They are bleeding confidence. They are ready to sell the property to save their own skins, and I am here to finalize the handover paperwork.

 The board has made no such decision,” Dianiela replied coldly, refusing to back down an inch. “Now get out of my club before I call the police,” Clive lunged forward with surprising speed, grabbing Dianiela by the wrist. His grip was painfully, his thick fingers digging into her soft skin, promising deep bruises. You do not get it, do you? You stupid bloated You do not have any power here.

 You are just a glorified waitress wearing a nice suit. You are going to sign the authorization granting me entry to the financial records right now or my men are going to take you down to the basement and teach you a brutal lesson about respect. Daniela Hart hammered wildly against her ribs, but her fierce resilience flared into hot anger.

 She ripped her arm, trying to break his hold, raising her free hand to slap his smug face, but Clive caught her other wrist, twisting it cruy. She let out a sharp gasp of pain, struggling against his superior strength in the bright sunlight. Let her go. The voice was low, exceptionally smooth, and completely lethal. It did not boom or shout, yet it had seemed to shake the very foundations of the sunlit room. Clive froze instantly.

 He dropped Dianiela wrists and turned slowly, his face draining of all color, his arrogant sneer, vanishing into a mask of pure panic. Standing in the arched doorway of the lounge, bathed in a blinding halo of brilliant noon sunlight, was Alio Ferrari. He looked like an avenging demon walking straight out of hell. He was dressed in a sharp charcoal gray suit today, wearing no tie, his collar opened to reveal the edge of dark, intricate tattoos creeping up his muscular neck.

 His dead shark-like eyes were fixed entirely on Clive hands. The hands that had just been roughing up Dianiela. The temperature in the room seemed to plummet 10° in a matter of seconds. “Mr. Ferrari,” Clive stammered, taking a clumsy step back, his hands raised defensively. “I I did not expect to see you here today. I was just I was just handling some urgent business with this disrespectful manager.

She is a menace to this city. She threw you out yesterday. I am taking over this club and I will make sure she is fired and blacklisted immediately. Emilio began to walk forward. His footsteps were completely silent on the thick Persian rugs. You are taking over this club? he asked softly, his tone deceptively mild.

“Yes,” Clive said, puffing out his chest, desperately trying to project a confidence he clearly did not feel in the presence of the mafia kingpin. “I am forcing a hostile sail, Emilio stopped just a few feet away. He reached into his breast pocket, pulled out a heavy silver cigar tube, and slowly, methodically unscrewed it.

You are forcing a sale. From whom exactly? From the board of directors, of course, Clive replied, sweating profusely now under the bright sunlight and the crushing weight of Alio stare. Alio smiled. It was a terrifying, blood chilling expression that sent a jolt of pure adrenaline downella’s spine. There is no board of directors anymore, Clive.

I woke up at 5:00 this morning. I had my accountants track down all seven members. A few of them required highly persuasive conversations over their morning coffee. By 9:00, the wire transfers were entirely complete. I bought them out. Every single share. Clive jaw dropped, his eyes bulging. You You bought the club.

 I did not just buy the club, Alio said, his voice dropping to a dangerous grally whisper that promised extreme violence. I bought the entire lacade block. I own this building. I own the marble ground it sits on, and right now I own the air you are currently breathing.” Dianiela stared at Alio in absolute shock, her bruised wrists throbbing.

 He had bought the bit, the most expensive exclusive piece of commercial real estate in downtown St. Louis overnight. Because of yesterday, Emilio gaze slowly shifted from Clive terrified face to Daniela. He immediately saw the angry red marks forming on her pale soft wrists where Clive had grabbed her. The cruel amusement completely vanished from the mafia boss face, replaced by a cold, devastating, murderous fury.

 “You touched what is absolutely mine,” Alio stated, looking back at Clive with the eyes of a killer. Clive hands shot up in desperate surrender. “Mr. Ferrari, I did not know. I swear to God, I had no idea idea she belonged to you. She is just a plus-size manager. She is not even. Clive never finished his insulting sentence.

 Alio moved with terrifying, blinding speed. He grabbed Clive by the throat, lifting the heavy real estate developer completely off his feet with a single massive arm. The two burles Clive had brought took one look at Alio, heavily armed in forces, stepping into the doorway, and immediately dropped their weapons, turning and fleeing the lounge in absolute terror.

 Alio tightened his iron grip, watching Clive face turn a sickly shade of purple in the bright daylight. “She is a godamn queen,” Alio snarled. the vicious, legendary mafia boss fully unleashed. She is absolutely perfect, and if you ever speak of her with anything less than complete, utter reverence, I will personally peel the skin from your worthless bones and feed it to the feral dogs in the railards.

 Do you understand me?” Clive choked out a desperate wheezing sound, nodding his head frantically, tears streaming down his flushed face. Alio held him there for one more agonizing second before throwing him onto the hard marble floor like a piece of discarded garbage. Get out of my building. If I see your face in St. Louis again, you are a dead man.

 Clive scrambled to his feet, crying and gasping for air, slipping on the expensive rugs in his desperate haste to escape the lounge. The large room fell into a heavy silence, save for the deep, steady breathing of the mafia boss. Alio slowly turned around to face Daniela. The murderous, unhinged rage in his dark eyes melted away the very moment he looked at her.

replaced once again by that intense, consuming, highly protective hunger. He closed the distance between them in two long strides, his large, rough hands gently reaching out to cradle her bruised wrists, his thumbs brushed over the angry red marks, his touch surprisingly tender, contrasting wildly with the extreme violence he had just displayed.

 I told you yesterday that your security could not save you from me. [clears throat] Tessoro, Alio murmured, looking deep into her wide, shocked eyes. But they cannot save you from my enemies either. That is why I bought the building. Dianiela Hart raced uncontrollably, the warmth of his huge hands sending sparks up her arms. You bought a $50 million building.

 Just to make a point, Emilio stepped even closer, his broad chest almost brushing against hers, towering over her in the bright, unforgiving sunlight. He reached out, gently, tucking a stray lock of dark hair behind her ear, his knuckles lightly grazing her flushed, soft cheek. I bought it so I could keep you, Daniela,” Alio confessed, his voice thick with a dark, obsessive promise.

“You threw me out of your kingdom yesterday. So today, I made sure I owned the kingdom. You are never getting rid of me now.” 3 days passed since the violent altercation in the lounge, but the atmosphere inside the sovereign remained completely electric. The late spring sun continued to beat down on St. Louis, flooding the club with bright, unforgiving midday light.

Daniela Romano was determined to maintain absolute order. She marched through the grand dining room, her thick, dark hair pulled into a severe bun, her curves encased in a tailored crimson dress that demanded respect. She was not going to let a mafia takeover disrupt her immaculate lunch service.

 But ignoring Alio Ferrari was entirely impossible. Emilio had transformed the glasswalled penthouse suite above the club into his personal daytime command center. He did not hide in the shadows. He operated in broad daylight, surrounded by mountains of financial documents, expensive espresso, and heavily armed enforcers who now wore tailored suits to blend in with the country club aesthetic.

Whenever Daniela walked across the main floor, she could feel his heavy, predatory gaze tracking her from the balcony above. He watched her with a ravenous, undivided attention that made her skin prickle and her breath catch. He was obsessed. He intercepted her between meetings, cornering her in sunlit corridors just to inhale her scent.

 His massive hands always finding a reason to rest on her wide hips or the soft curve of her waist. He treated her soft plus-size body like it was the most precious sacred treasure in the world, murmuring dark Italian praises against her skin that left her hopelessly flushed. You need to stop distracting my staff, Mr.

 Ferrari, Dianiela told him that Thursday afternoon, cornering him in the sundrenched atrium. The fountain bubbled cheerfully behind them. Two of your men are currently terrifying the pastry chef, and you have been staring at me for 45 consecutive minutes.” Emilio leaned against a white marble pillar, crossing his thick, muscular arms over his chest.

He was wearing a fitted white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing the intricate ink that snaked down his forearms. I bought this building so I could look at you, Dianiela. You are the general manager. Manage me. You are unmanageable. She shot back, crossing her own arms, refusing to let his dark charm melt her defenses.

 I have a highprofile charity lunchon to run in 2 hours. The mayor is attending. The police commissioner is attending. I need your syndicate to be entirely invisible until the plates are cleared. Emilio smirked, a dangerous, thrilling expression for you, Tazoro. I will pretend to be a perfect gentleman.

 But tonight, you are having dinner with me. No arguments. Before Daniela could formulate a sharp refusal, the heavy glass doors of the atrium shattered. The sound of breaking glass was deafening, echoing like a bomb blast through the bright sunlit room. Shards of expensive crystal rained down across the imported marble floor, glittering violently in the midday sun.

Daniela Bay had time to register the noise before Alio lunged. He hit her with the force of a freight train, wrapping his massive arms around her soft body and tackling her behind the thick marble pillar. Just as a barrage of automatic gunfire tore through the space where they had been standing, the charity lunchon was a trap.

 “Stay down!” Alio wroed, drawing a heavy black pistol from his waistband with terrifying speed. Dianiela gasped for air, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She peakedked around the edge of the fractured marble. Pouring through the shattered entrance were a dozen men wearing heavy tactical gear, their faces hidden behind dark masks.

But Daniela recognized the man leading them instantly. Clive Caro. Clive was not wearing a mask. His face was twisted into a hideous mask of sweaty, desperate rage. I was holding a submachine gun, his expensive suit stained with sweat. The word on the street was that Emilio buying the Llaid block had completely destroyed Clive money laundering operation.

 The cartel he answered to was demanding their missing millions, and Clive was a dead man walking. He had come to the sovereign in broad daylight for a suicide mission, hoping to take the head of the Ferrari syndicate with him. “Kill him!” Clive screamed, pointing a shaking finger toward the atrium pillar. “Kill Ferrari and grab the fat bitch.

” Emilio moved with lethal precision. He leaned out and fired three rapid shots, the deafening cracks echoing through the bright room. Two of Clive men dropped instantly, their blood stark and red against the pristine white floors. Alio enforcers were already swarming down the grand staircase, turning the luxurious sunlit club into an active war zone.

Bullets chewed through the gold leaf columns, shredded the imported velvet curtains, and pulverized the expensive artwork. Dianiela covered her ears, her breath coming in shallow gasps as the smell of cordite and copper filled the air. Alio shielded her with his own body, his broad back absorbing the spray of marble dust.

He was a stone wall between her and death. “We need to move!” Alio shouted over the deafening gunfire, slamming a fresh magazine into his weapon. They brought too many men for a frontal assault. They are trying to flank us through the kitchen. Oh, I know a way out. Dianiela yelled back, her voice remarkably steady despite the chaos.

 Her survival instincts, honed by a lifetime of having to protect herself in a cruel world, took over. She grabbed Amelio by the wrist. Follow me. She did not wait for his permission. Dianiela crawled quickly over the shattered glass, her crimson dress catching on the jagged edges, pulling Alio toward the heavy brass service door hidden behind a decorative tapestry.

She slammed her hand against the biometric scanner and the door clicked open. They spilled into the narrow, brightly lit service corridor, just as the pillar they had been hiding behind was completely obliterated by a hail of bullets. The service corridor was a stark contrast to the luxurious club. It was lined with heavy steel pipes, electrical panels, and glaring fluorescent lights.

Dianiela kicked off her ruined high heels, preferring to run barefoot on the cold concrete. She knew every single inch of this building. [clears throat] She knew the blind spots. She knew the architectural flaws, and she knew exactly how to use them. “Where does this lead?” Alio asked, keeping his weapon raised, his eyes scanning the bright, narrow hallway with professional paranoia.

He was bleeding from a shallow graze on his cheek, but he looked completely unbothered, his focus entirely on keeping Dianiela safe. “It leads to the subbasements, but we are not going there,” Dianiela said, her mind racing, calculating the layout of the club above them. [clears throat] “Clive is a coward.

 He sent his men to the front, but he will try to cut off our escape route through the loading dock. He does not know I had the loading dock doors reinforced with solid steel last month. He is trapping himself. She led Alio down a secondary flight of concrete stairs. Her plush body moving with surprising agile grace. They reached the boiler room, a massive, brightly lit industrial space filled with roaring machinery and thick steam pipes.

 As they entered, the heavy metal door on the opposite side of the room violently kicked open. Clive stumbled into the boiler room, followed by three of his heaviest mercenaries. He looked frantic, his eyes darting around the bright, cavernous space until they locked onto Daniela and Alio. A sick, triumphant smile will spread across his sweaty face.

 “End of the line, Ferrari!” Clive sneered, raising his weapon. I told you you should not have taken what was mine. Alio stepped in front of Daniela, his dark eyes burning with absolute murderous intent. Here he raised his pistol, but he was outnumbered 4 to one, and the mercenaries had automatic rifles trained squarely on his chest.

 “Drop the gun, Alio!” Clive barked, stepping cautiously into the room. Or my men will cut both of you in half right now, and I will make sure the fat cow feels every single bullet. Emilio jaw clenched. He glanced back at Daniela, a silent, desperate apology in his dark eyes, and slowly began to lower his weapon. He was willing to die to buy her a few seconds of life.

 But Dianiela was not a damsel in distress. and she refused to let the man who worshiped her die in her basement. She noticed exactly where Clive and his men were standing. They were positioned directly over the primary pressure release grate for the building industrial steam heating system. It was a massive ancient boiler network that pumped boiling water and scalding steam throughout the historic building.

Daniela knew the system intimately because she personally managed the maintenance schedules. She also knew that the manual override lever was bolted to the wall less than 2 ft away from her right hand. “Hey, Clive!” Dianiela shouted, her voice booming over the hum of the machinery. Clive shifted his gaze to her, his lip curling in disgust.

 “What do you want, you stupid? You are standing on my floor,” she interrupted coldly. Dianiela lunged to her right, wrapping both of her hands around the heavy iron override lever, and pulled it down with every ounce of her strength. The machinery shrieked. A deafening metallic groan echoed through the bright room. Before Clive or his mercenaries could even register the sound, the pressure released great beneath their feet blew open.

 A massive violent geyser of scalding high-pressure white steam erupted from the floor, blasting straight up into the air with the force of a bomb. Clive and his men screamed in sheer agony as the boiling steam engulfed them. their weapons clattered uselessly to the concrete floor as they blindly clawed at their burning faces. Completely incapacitated by the overwhelming heat and the blinding vapor.

 Alilio did not hesitate for a fraction of a second, he moved through the edges of the dissipating steam like a wraith, his weapon raising and firing in three sharp clinical bursts. The three mercenaries collapsed to the floor, instantly neutralized. Clive fell to his knees, weeping in pain, his skin red and blistered. Completely defenseless, Emilio walked slowly up to the weeping man.

 The mafia boss looked completely terrifying, bathed in the bright fluorescent light, his suit dusted with white ash and blood. He pressed the searing hot barrel of his pistol directly against Clive forehead. I told you what would happen if you ever disrespected my queen again. Amelio whispered, his voice a hollow, deadly rasp that chilled the boiling room.

 “Please,” Clive sobbed, clutching at Alio legs. “Please, God, no!” Alio pulled the trigger. The loud crack echoed through the boiler room and Clive Carol slumped to the floor, permanently silenced. The heavy machinery continued to hum in the background. The bright, unforgiving lights cast sharp shadows across the concrete. Alio stood over the body for a long moment, ensuring the threat was entirely eliminated before he slowly lowered his weapon and turned to look at Daniela.

 She was standing by the control panel, her chest heaving, her beautiful full face flushed from the heat and the adrenaline. She had just taken down a cartel-backed hit squad using nothing but her intelligence and a steam pipe. Emilio walked toward her, dropping his empty gun onto the floor.

 He closed the distance and crashed his lips down onto hers in a bruising, desperate, allconsuming kiss. Dianiela gasped, her hands flying up to grip his broad shoulders, sinking her fingers into his ruined shirt. He tasted like smoke, danger, and absolute devotion. He wrapped his massive arms around her thick waist, lifting her completely off her bare feet, crushing her soft curves against his hard, muscular chest.

 “You are magnificent.” Alio breathed heavily against her mouth, raining frantic kisses down her jawline and her neck. You are a goddess, Dianiela. A beautiful, vicious, perfect goddess. I am completely at your mercy. Dianiela beride her face in his neck, inhaling the intoxicating scent of sandalwood and gunpowder, feeling the frantic, synchronized beating of their hearts.

She had spent her entire life trying to prove her worth to a world that only saw her size. But in the arms of the most dangerous man in St. Louis, she finally understood her true power. “You still owe me a new set of imported linens,” Dianiela whispered, a breathless, shaky smile touching her lips.

 Emilio laughed, a rich, dark sound that filled the bright room. He held her tighter, burying his face in her dark hair. I will buy you a thousand silk sheets to sorrow. I will buy you the whole world. And I will spend the rest of my life worshiping every single inch of you. The sun continued to beat down on St. Louis, bright and unyielding.

But the king and queen of the underworld had already claimed their throne. If you loved this story about Dianiela and Alio fighting for survival and dark romance, hit that like button right now. Do not forget to share this video with your fellow Mafia romance fans and drop a comment below telling me your favorite moment from the club shootout.

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