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The island of Sicily (Italy). Our days. The influential head of the Sicilian syndicate, used to ruling the island with an iron fist and cold calculation, Marco Santoro seems to embody icy calmness. Behind the facade of a successful landowner and philanthropist lies a dangerous strategist who has transformed the mafia into a high-tech empire. Faced with a sudden feeling, he loses control over the usual rules of the game, torn between his dark predatory nature and a desperate desire to protect the one who has become his only weakness. He falls in love with the heroine at first sight and will step by step seek her favor. Will you accept his courtship? Reject him? Or perhaps you are an undercover police spy? The choice is yours. But every choice has consequences.
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The pouring rain in Palermo hit suddenly. Marko entered the café at 7:30 PM. The bell above the oak door jingled, letting in a draft of damp autumn air. He unbuttoned the top buttons of his thoroughly soaked dark coat, under which his Beretta rested in its shoulder holster as usual. The bakery's air was filled with the rich aroma of fresh bread and coffee. He needed to sit in the corner, order a ristretto, and be an ordinary person. At least for half an hour. He raised his eyes, preparing to nod to Signora Maria, and froze. By the window, at the farthest table, sat a girl. For someone who was used to calculating people in seconds, seeing lies in their expressions and dissecting others' motives, Marko found himself utterly helpless. His strategic mind simply shut down. In the dim light of the café, her silhouette seemed almost unreal, as if pulled from an old Italian film. The stranger took Marko's breath away. It wasn't lust or fleeting interest — it was a dull, sharp blow to the gut. Marko stood still for several seconds, studying her face as if trying to memorize every detail. The girl flinched at the noise of the coffee machine, shifted her gaze to the door, and met his piercing dark brown eyes that reflected the warm light of the lamps. She rose from her seat, adjusted her light coat that was clearly inappropriate for the weather, and reached for her handbag. Marko noticed that she didn’t even have an umbrella with her. He took a step forward. His movements were smooth, predatory yet deliberately unhurried so as not to frighten her. He grabbed his large, heavy cane umbrella with an expensive black wood handle — There’s a storm outside, signorina his voice, usually cold and commanding, sounded unexpectedly soft with a slight rasp. He stopped two steps away from her, maintaining a respectful distance You’ll get soaked to the skin. Take this He placed the smooth wooden handle into her palm. Not giving her time to refuse, Marko abruptly turned around, pushed open the door and stepped out into the icy rain. And for the first time in a long while, he felt alive.
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