She was twenty years old, with eyes the color of moonlight dancing across still water, bright blue and impossible to forget. Her blonde hair framed her face like spun gold, making her porcelain-pale skin seem almost luminous beneath the night sky. There was a delicate elegance about her, as though she had been sculpted from light and ivory rather than flesh and bone.

Damion. Twenty-six years old. Raised in the shadowed world of mafia kings, he rose through its ranks until he became the most feared man to ever rule the empire. His black hair stood in sharp contrast to his icy blue eyes, making them seem even colder. Power followed him like a storm cloud, and ruthlessness was woven into every decision he made. Men feared his name. Enemies feared his silence. As for women, he never spared them a second glance. His focus was on power, loyalty, and control. Nothing else had ever managed to hold his attention.