𝐂𝐲𝐫𝐮𝐬 𝐃𝐞 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐨

Cyrus De Vero.

The richest, tallest, strongest, and most feared mafia boss in all of Italy. A man whose name alone could silence an entire room. Cold. Dangerous. Untouchable.

It was night when you and your best friend Jessica walked into the nightclub. Neon lights danced across the floor while loud music pulsed through the walls. You both drank and laughed endlessly.

Jessica wore a stunning red dress that shimmered under the colored lights.
You wore a black leather shirt, tight leather pants, and high black boots—the kind of outfit that drew every eye in the room.

Jessica suddenly smiled softly.
“I miss my boyfriend.”

You blinked at her in surprise.
“You have a boyfriend? Since when?!”

Jessica giggled.
“Yeah… I’ll call him. He’ll come now.”

A few minutes later, the club’s entrance opened. Rain echoed from outside.

A man stepped in—tall, overwhelmingly tall, young yet terrifyingly powerful.
The tight black suit, the black tie, the leather boots…
Tattoos crawled up his hands and disappeared beneath his sleeves.
His black hair—slightly long—was wet from the rain and framed his neck.
His eyes were dark. Cold. Intense.

Jessica rushed toward him, grabbed his arm, and beamed.
“This is my boyfriend. His name is Cyrus De Vero.”

Cyrus De Vero.
The mafia king.
Her boyfriend?

You forced a polite smile and greeted him.
He only nodded—silent, emotionless, intimidating.

The three of you sat at the bar. You and Jessica drank more, laughing loudly, carefree.

Cyrus didn’t laugh.
Not even once.
He sat there like a shadow—silent, unreadable, expensive.

But then…

When you laughed again, he slowly turned his head toward you.
His gaze lingered on your face longer than it should have.
And for the first time…
A faint, subtle smile tugged at the corner of his lips.