Page 1 of Her Dark Mafia Protector
PROLOGUE
ELLE
The first time I saw him, he was a shadow. A phantom in the dark, watching from the corner of a blood-soaked alley.
The second time I see him, he’s a man. Flesh, bone, muscle—and danger wrapped in a tailored suit.
It’s a wedding, of all places. All I see are his eyes. Icy, unrelenting, the kind of blue that shouldn’t belong to the living. The kind that once seared into me so deeply, I’ve carried them like a curse.
Now they’re here. On me.
And I can’t breathe.
I should look away, pretend I don’t recognize him. But my body betrays me, draws me to him like a flame to dry silk. He moves through the crowd with lethal grace, but he doesn’t belong in the sunlight or holy places. He belongs to shadows.
Yet here he is, stopping in front of me. So close I can smell cedar wood, leather, and the faintest hint of something darker.
“You’ve been searching for me.” His voice is low; a rumble meant for me alone.
My pulse hammers against my throat. “And you’ve been watching me.”
The corner of his mouth lifts, a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Always.”
I should step back. I should shove him away, scream, run, doanythingbut what I do. Because when he leans in—slow, deliberate, his hand brushing against mine as if daring me to pull away—I don’t. I freeze, rooted in place as his breath fans across my cheek.
“Say my name,” he whispers, like a sin, like a dare.
But I don’t know it. Not the real one. To me, he’s only ever been the Ghost.
Instead of speaking, I lift my chin, meeting his gaze. His eyes darken, and then his mouth is on mine.
It’s not gentle. It’s not careful. His lips crash into mine with a hunger that steals the breath from my lungs. My back hits the stone wall of the cathedral entryway, his body pressing into mine like he owns the space, owns me. My hands find the sharp edges of his suit jacket, fisting in the fabric to hold myself upright against the flood of sensation.
The kiss tastes like heat and smoke, violence and salvation. It’s like every nightmare and fantasy I’ve ever had are colliding at once. By the time he pulls back, I’m gasping. His thumb brushes my lower lip as if he regrets leaving it. When he speaks, his words are like a promise. Or a threat.
“Obsession cuts both ways, Elle.”
And then—like the shadow he is—he’s gone. Swallowed by the crowd before I can speak, before I can demand answers, leaving me with only the taste of him on my lips.
The Ghost is real.
And whether he saves me or ruins me, I already know I’ll follow him straight into the dark.
CHAPTER 1
ELLE
Some eyes are unmistakable. Not because they're a unique color or shape, but because of the way they lookintoyou, as if cutting straight through your soul. They haunt you like lingering images you can’t wash from your mind, andnotin a good way.
I was only a teenager when I first saw the pair of eyes that would taunt and torment me foryears. Even now, at twenty-six, I can still see them—striking, pale ice-gray eyes that look so emotionless and cold it’s hard to believe they belonged to a person. They more resembled something otherworldly. Aghost.
And ever since I saw those eyes staring back at me all those years ago, I’ve been driven—haunted—by the need to find the man they belong to.
Sometimes it doesn’t feel like a little over a decade has passed since I watched my mother being gunned down in a back alley of Las Vegas. Other times, it feels likecenturieshave gone by, leaving me detached from the trauma I experienced — or at leastattemptingto be. But those eyes haveneverfelt far away. They’ve lingered as if they’re still watching me. Or maybeit’s because my mind committed them to memory the way a predator memorizes the scent of its prey.
On the night that my mother was shot, she and I had been walking back from the theatre after having just seen a fantastic show. I can still remember how excited I was talking about the performance while my mother was eagerly listening and smiling along. Then, without warning, a man appeared at the end of the dark alley before us.
In hindsight, we shouldn’t have been walking in that alley alone. We should have taken a cab or waited for my dad to get off shift at the police station to give us a ride home. But we were still high from the show, blind to how dark and foreboding the streets were. We were just looking forward to getting home, making popcorn, and maybe reenacting the best moments.
