Cuteping27

Elijah Sinclair is the youngest and most ruthless CEO in the city, known for his arrogance, cunning business tactics, and an ego the size of his billion-dollar empire. He doesn't take no for an answer—until he crosses paths with a dangerous man who couldn't care less about his money or influence.

Dante Moretti, the feared heir to the Moretti Mafia, is cold, merciless, and used to people cowering before him. That is until he meets Elijah, a man who refuses to back down, even when a gun is pointed at his head. What starts as a dangerous game of threats and defiance soon turns into something neither of them expected—attraction.

Now, with both their worlds colliding, Elijah finds himself in the middle of a deadly mafia war, and Dante finds himself doing something he swore he never would—falling for a cocky CEO who makes his blood boil in more ways than one.

Will their love survive betrayal, gunfire, and a whole lot of stubborn pride? Or will their worlds tear them apart before they can even admit their feelings?

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Excerpt:

Elijah took a leisurely sip of his whiskey, completely unfazed by the armed men surrounding him. "You know," he mused, swirling the amber liquid in his glass, "when someone invites me to a meeting, I usually expect dinner. Not death threats."

Dante leaned forward, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. "Most men would be begging for their lives right now."

"Most men aren’t me." Elijah smirked.

A slow grin spread across Dante's face. "You're either fearless or an idiot, Sinclair."

"Or maybe I just enjoy pissing off men with superiority complexes."

A chuckle rumbled from Dante’s chest. Dangerous. Deep. Amused. "I should kill you for that."

Elijah raised an eyebrow. "You won’t."

Dante tilted his head. "Oh? And why not?"

Elijah leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Because I think you like me, Moretti."

For the first time in years, Dante was speechless.

And that was how Elijah Sinclair, the most arrogant CEO in the city, became the unexpected obsession of the Mafia’s most feared heir.

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The Mafia's Boyfriend or The Dangerous Lover

Elijah's patience was already running thin, and Dante Moretti wasn't helping.

The man had waltzed in, taken what Elijah wanted, and now had the audacity to sit across from him with that infuriatingly smug smirk.

Elijah leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. "So, you dragged me here just to gloat?"

Dante tapped his fingers on the table, his expression unreadable. "Not quite."

"Then get to the point," Elijah said, voice cool. "I don't like playing games."

Dante chuckled, low and amused. "See, that's where we differ, Sinclair. I love games." He leaned forward, locking eyes with Elijah. "Especially when they involve interesting opponents."

Elijah refused to look away, refused to be intimidated. He'd dealt with cutthroat businessmen before—Dante Moretti was no different. "If you're looking for a business partner, I'm afraid I don't work with criminals."

Dante's smirk didn't waver. "You say that, and yet you're here. Negotiating. With me."

Elijah clenched his jaw. He hated that the bastard had a point.

"Let's cut the bullshit, Moretti. You stole—"

Elijah's glare sharpened. "You acquired property that was supposed to be mine. So, what do you want?"

Dante studied him for a moment, then exhaled, as if mildly disappointed. "I expected more from you, Sinclair. Thought you'd at least try to figure it out."

Elijah's patience snapped. "If I wanted to deal with mind games, I'd go back to my office and negotiate stock shares with a room full of idiots." He stood, buttoning his suit jacket. "This was a waste of time."

Dante remained seated, still relaxed, still in control. "Sit down, Sinclair."

That single word changed the air between them. The men around them stiffened, glancing at Dante as if waiting for him to react. But instead of anger, something else flickered across his face—amusement.

Dante exhaled a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "You really don't know when to be afraid, do you?"

Elijah held his ground. "I don't waste my energy fearing men who overcompensate with power."

The nervous businessman from before visibly paled. One of Dante's men—a tall, broad figure dressed in black—shifted slightly, as if preparing to move.

The kind that usually came before someone ended up dead.

"Careful, Sinclair," Dante murmured, his voice smooth but laced with something sharp. "You're playing with fire."

Elijah smirked. "Then I guess you'll just have to try and burn me."

For a long moment, neither of them moved. The tension stretched tight, thick and almost suffocating.

Then, Dante pushed back his chair and stood. The motion was slow, deliberate. He was taller than Elijah—not by much, but enough that it forced Elijah to tilt his chin slightly to meet his gaze.

"You're lucky I like you," Dante murmured, voice low enough that only Elijah could hear.

"I don't recall asking for your approval."

Dante chuckled. "No, I suppose you didn't."

The way he looked at Elijah then—it wasn't just interest. It wasn't just amusement. It was something far more dangerous.

Dante clapped a hand on Elijah's shoulder, a seemingly friendly gesture that held just enough weight to remind him of the power difference between them. "This was fun, Sinclair. We should do it again sometime."

Elijah shrugged off his hand. "I'll pass."

Dante only grinned, unaffected. "Oh, I don't think you will."

And with that, he turned and walked away, his men following without question.

Elijah stood frozen for a moment, his heartbeat annoyingly uneven.

Dante Moretti was a problem. A dangerous, smug, irritating problem.

And worst of all—Elijah had the distinct, gut-wrenching feeling that this wasn't the last time they'd cross paths.

In fact, something told him this was only the beginning.

A Dangerous Mistake