The Mafia Prince's Secret Lover

The bass thumped through the walls of Eclipse, Milan's most exclusive nightclub. Gilded chandeliers dripped from the ceiling, casting golden light over the sea of wealthy elites, their laughter mingling with the steady hum of deep house music. Everything about this place reeked of power-men in tailored suits discussing silent wars over whiskey, women draped in silk and diamonds, looking for the next conquest.

Sienna Costa didn't belong here.

She told herself that as she gripped the thin stem of her champagne flute, standing awkwardly near the bar while her older brother, Matteo, disappeared into the crowd. He'd dragged her here under the excuse of a "siblings' night out," but she knew better. He had connections, friends in high places-places she had no business being in.

And now, she was alone, watching the glamorous world she had no part of.

The bartender, a man with sharp cheekbones and a lazy smirk, leaned in. "Another drink, bella?"

Sienna shook her head, already regretting the first. "I shouldn't even be drinking. Early shift tomorrow."

"Doctor?"

She nodded.

"Then maybe you need another drink more than anyone here." He winked, setting a glass of deep amber liquid in front of her. "On the house."

She smiled, amused, but didn't take it. She had no interest in flirting with strangers.

The air shifted before she even turned. A presence, magnetic and all-consuming, pressed against her senses.

She felt him before she saw him.

And when she did-her breath caught.

Rafael Bianchi stood just a few feet away, effortlessly commanding the space around him. His tailored black suit hugged his tall, powerful frame like sin, the crisp white shirt beneath left unbuttoned just enough to hint at the sharp ridges of muscle beneath. Dark hair, neatly styled yet slightly tousled, framed a face that was devastatingly handsome-strong jawline, sculpted cheekbones, and piercing green eyes that gleamed under the dim lights.

Dangerous eyes.

Eyes that pinned her in place.

Sienna had seen beautiful men before, but none like him. None who radiated such raw, effortless dominance.

"You're staring," he murmured, voice deep and smooth as whiskey.

Heat rushed to her cheeks. "I wasn't."

One dark brow arched, as if amused by the lie. "Then what were you doing, dolcezza?"

Her pulse fluttered at the pet name. Sweetness.

"I was just-" She cleared her throat. "-waiting for my brother."

Rafael tilted his head slightly, those sharp eyes assessing. "Matteo Costa." It wasn't a question.

Sienna frowned. "You know him?"

He smiled, slow and deliberate. "You could say that."

Something about the way he said it sent a ripple of unease down her spine. She suddenly felt as though she had stepped onto a chessboard where everyone knew the game except her.

"Then you must be Sienna," he continued, taking a step closer. The scent of cedar and something darkly masculine curled around her. "The doctor."

She swallowed. "Matteo talks about me?"

He let out a quiet chuckle. "Not in detail."

That should have reassured her. It didn't.

Because the way Rafael was looking at her-like he already knew everything about her-made her stomach tighten.

"Tell me, Dottoressa," he mused, his gaze dipping briefly to her lips before flicking back up, "why does a woman who saves lives spend her time in a place surrounded by men who take them?"

She tensed. "Excuse me?"

His smirk was infuriating. "You're too innocent for this world."

Her jaw clenched. "You don't know anything about me."

He leaned in slightly, so close that his breath feathered over her cheek. "Oh, but I do."

She hated the way her heart pounded, the way her body reacted to the sheer force of him. There was something undeniably electric about him, something that pulled her in even when she knew she should run the other way.

Before she could form a response, Matteo appeared, clapping a hand on Rafael's shoulder in a gesture that felt... tense.

"Bianchi," Matteo greeted, his tone carefully neutral.

"Costa."

The air between them was thick with something unspoken.

Matteo turned to Sienna, his expression tight. "Come on, sorella. Time to go."

She blinked. "But we just got here-"

"I said, let's go."

Something was wrong.

But before she could question it, Matteo grabbed her wrist, steering her away from Rafael Bianchi and the heavy weight of his gaze.

Yet as she was pulled through the crowd, she couldn't stop herself from glancing back.

Rafael hadn't moved.

But those piercing green eyes?

They never left her.

The night air was crisp as Matteo pulled Sienna toward his car, his grip firm around her wrist.

"Matteo, what the hell was that?" she demanded, yanking free as they reached the sleek black Maserati parked outside Eclipse.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "That man-Rafael Bianchi-stay away from him."

Sienna frowned. "You know him. Really know him."

Matteo's jaw tightened. "Yeah. And that's exactly why I'm telling you to keep your distance."

She crossed her arms, frustration bubbling beneath her skin. "Why? Because he's rich? Because he has some sort of power over this city?"

Matteo let out a bitter laugh. "Sienna, you have no idea who he is. Rafael Bianchi isn't just some powerful businessman. He's mafia."

Her stomach dropped. "What?"

"He's the heir to the Bianchi crime family. Their empire is built on blood. Drugs. Guns. They own this city." He turned, gripping her shoulders as his dark eyes bore into hers. "He is not the kind of man you want to be involved with."

Sienna opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Mafia.

The realization slammed into her like a freight train.

It made sense-the commanding presence, the way people looked at him, the effortless control he exuded. Even the way he'd spoken to her, as if he already knew she would belong to him.

A shiver ran down her spine.

"I-" She shook her head, trying to piece it all together. "He barely spoke to me."

Matteo's lips pressed into a hard line. "That's worse."

"What does that even mean?"

He hesitated, then exhaled. "It means he's interested."

Sienna's breath hitched. "You're being dramatic."

Matteo gave her a look. "Am I? Sienna, men like Rafael don't just talk to women like you. If he looked at you twice, he's already decided something."

The certainty in his voice sent a strange heat through her veins.

"He's dangerous," Matteo continued. "You're better off forgetting you ever met him."

Sienna wanted to argue, but something about the way Rafael had looked at her-like he wanted her, like he was memorizing her-made her wonder if forgetting him was even possible.

-

The next day, Sienna tried to bury the memory of Rafael Bianchi beneath hours of grueling work.

Her clinic, a small but well-run facility in one of Milan's poorest districts, was overflowing as usual. Patients lined the halls, some waiting for basic treatment, others for more severe wounds-wounds that told silent stories of gang violence.

She was stitching up a young boy's arm when the door opened, and a hush fell over the room.

The air changed.

Tension thickened.

Sienna glanced up, her pulse stuttering at the sight of the man who had haunted her thoughts all night.

Rafael Bianchi stood in the doorway, his presence swallowing the space whole. He wore a charcoal suit, the jacket unbuttoned, his shirt sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal strong forearms and the ink that curled over his skin.

He was utterly out of place in her small, overworked clinic.

And yet-he belonged.

The staff stilled. The patients shrank back. Even Marco, the clinic's security guard, shifted uneasily at the sight of him.

Sienna forced herself to focus on her patient. "Almost done," she murmured, tying off the last stitch. She patted the boy's shoulder. "You're a brave one."

The child grinned before hopping off the table and scurrying away.

Sienna exhaled and finally turned toward Rafael, crossing her arms over her chest. "Are you here for a checkup?" she asked dryly.

The corner of his mouth lifted. "I don't usually go to doctors."

"Right. Because you're invincible?"

His smirk deepened as he stepped closer, his scent-a mix of cedar, spice, and something undeniably masculine-curling around her. "Something like that."

Sienna ignored the way her heart pounded. "Then why are you here?"

He studied her for a long moment before speaking. "I wanted to see you again."

Her breath caught.

Blunt. Direct. Dangerous.

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to hold his gaze. "You shouldn't be here."

"Why not?"

"You know why," she whispered.

He tilted his head slightly, eyes gleaming. "Your brother warned you about me."

She hesitated. "Yes."

"And yet," he murmured, stepping even closer, "you're still talking to me."

She should have walked away. Should have told him to leave.

But she didn't.

Because as much as she hated to admit it...

Rafael Bianchi intrigued her.

And that was a very, very dangerous thing.