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 breath came shallow, his pulse hammering against his throat. The air between him and Dante was thick—almost suffocating. The scent of Dante's cologne, warm spice and something unmistakably him, wrapped around Elijah like a vice.

Dante's fingers, still lightly brushing against Elijah's wrist, traced slow, deliberate patterns along his skin. "You're tense, tesoro." His voice was low, teasing. "What are you thinking about?"

Elijah scoffed, jerking his hand away. "I'm thinking about how much of a pain in the ass you are."

Dante smirked. "Mmm. That's funny, considering you don't seem to mind my presence as much as you pretend to."

Elijah took a step back, but Dante matched it instantly, invading his space again, until Elijah's back hit the cool surface of the wall. His breath hitched as Dante caged him in with one hand beside his head, his body mere inches away.

"You keep running," Dante murmured, tilting his head. "But your eyes tell me a different story."

Elijah swallowed hard, cursing himself for the way his body betrayed him. He should shove Dante away. Should put distance between them. But instead, he was rooted to the spot, heat spreading through his chest.

Dante leaned in, voice dropping into something almost conspiratorial. "Tell me, Elijah. Are you afraid of what might happen if you stop fighting me?"

Elijah clenched his jaw. "I'm not fighting you."

Dante's smirk deepened. "Exactly."

Silence stretched between them, taut and electric. Dante's gaze flickered down to Elijah's lips for a fraction of a second—so fast it could have been imagined. But Elijah saw it. Felt it. And his entire body tensed.

But Dante, as always, had other plans.

He reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair from Elijah's forehead, his fingers lingering a beat too long. Elijah sucked in a sharp breath, his resolve wavering.

Dante leaned in just enough that Elijah could feel the ghost of his breath against his cheek. "Tell me to stop," he murmured.

Elijah's heart pounded. His hands curled into fists. He should say it. He should push Dante away, regain control of this dangerous game they were playing.

Because the truth was, Elijah didn't want him to stop.

So when he closed the remaining distance between them, his lips barely brushing against Elijah's—just a whisper of contact, a test of boundaries—Elijah's restraint snapped.

With a low curse, he grabbed Dante by the collar and crashed their mouths together.

Dante groaned into the kiss, his grip tightening around Elijah's waist, pulling him flush against him. The heat between them ignited into something fierce, something uncontrollable.

And for the first time, Elijah didn't fight it.

Bound by Fire