Reign of a Billionaire : A Dark Mafia Enemies-to-Lovers Romance

His gaze drifted over my body with a dark scowl, like he knew me. But that was impossible. I wouldn’t—could never—forget a face like that. His jawline spoke of determination, of grief and pain. The kind that I sometimes felt in my own heart.

Dressed in a black three-piece suit, sans tie, his muscular frame was enveloped in fine material, but it did nothing to hide the predator underneath. The color of his hair matched his suit. But it was his dark, almost-black eyes that captured me completely.

I couldn’t look away.

Another step and he was close enough I could feel his warmth. The spiced vanilla scent and a cologne I didn’t recognize invaded my lungs. It was more intoxicating than any alcohol could be.

A shudder rolled down my spine. Blood drummed in my ears. He was the only thing I was aware of, capturing every ounce of my attention. I could feel the chill and… something else in his gaze.

Hatred, maybe? Or was it curiosity?

I knew I should start walking, but I couldn’t force my body to move an inch. I stared at the stranger’s broad figure striding agilely past me.

It wasn’t until I heard the ding of the door opening that I finally jolted from my stupor. He was gone. Like a ghost in the dead of night, except in this case, it was the middle of the day.

The overwhelming sense of loss weakened my knees, the confusion at my reaction profound.

Shaking it off, I resumed my path back to our table, the nape of my neck prickling and all my senses on alert. I needed to figure out what the hell was wrong with me before my mother picked up on it. I couldn’t handle another one of her treatments.

“Ah, there you are.” I turned to find my mother standing with the rest of the party, ready to depart. Her gaze bore into me, studying me. “You seem frazzled.”

I shook my head, acutely aware of her suspicious eyes.

“I’m not,” I said, my voice even, betraying none of my inner turmoil. Tension coiled in my belly like a beast, leaving me utterly confused but hungry for answers.

Mother nodded, accepting my answer, when one of our dinner companions extended his hand. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”

I let his hand hang in the air, not interested in letting this creep touch any part of me. Locking eyes with his bland ones, I gave him a terse nod, then faced my mother. “Ready?”

“You’re driving back to the hotel with me,” she declared.

I gritted my teeth but didn’t argue. At twenty-six, I was more than capable of making my own decisions, but my independence was something the great Sofia Volkov hated. She had guards who watched me and reported everything I did to her.

After years of practice, I’d become an expert at ditching them. Of course, they never knew that they’d been left in the lurch. Most of the time, they believed me asleep in bed.

I walked toward the exit, caught off guard by my reflection in the window. My hand on the doorknob, I stared at myself. There was an unfamiliar glint to my eyes. An odd flush in my cheeks.

Before my mother could comment on my odd behavior, I exited the restaurant and made my way to the waiting car. My mother followed, shutting the door. As I slid along the plush seats, my gaze darted back toward the restaurant while my mind reeled with questions. And then I saw him.

The familiar stranger lurked in the alley’s shadow, his eyes firmly locked on mine. I barely contained a fresh shiver, my body throbbing as his gaze lingered.

“What are you staring at, Liana?”

My mother’s voice pulled my attention to her only to find her eyes following my gaze, and as I glanced back into the alley, he was nowhere to be found.

“Nothing, Mother.”

I sat poised and collected, my back straight and my gaze locked on the fleeting scenery of the city. The remainder of the short drive was spent in silence. Once we arrived at the hotel, I got out of the vehicle and started walking toward the five-star hotel.

My hand on the handle, my mother’s voice boomed from behind me. “Liana, stop.”

I froze just as the hotel door opened, the handle slipping out of my palm. A man in his thirties stood opposite of me, holding it open for us. He stood to the side, waiting patiently.

“After you, miss.”

“Thanks,” I murmured.

My mother and her bodyguards appeared beside me in a flash, their eyes locked on the man.

“What are you doing here?” Mother spat, her Italian accent making a rare appearance.

“It’s a free country last time I checked, Sofia,” the stranger responded with a hint of sarcasm. I watched the exchange in amazement.

My eyes locked on him, his muscled body wrapped in an expensive suit. His striking green eyes were hard to ignore, but what captured my attention was the tattoo on his left hand. A weird symbol in the mouth of a skull. I’d never seen anything like it before.

My mother nodded once, in that polite warning that was reserved for those she held in contempt. Naturally, my interest was piqued, and this time, I memorized every line of his face.

He watched my mother with a cold expression, his lips curled in a sneer.