My Mfia Target: One Last Job

The first rule of assassination: never get too close.

And yet, here I was, stepping into his world like I belonged, my pulse thrumming like a lover's whisper.

My name is Juliette Devereaux, and by sunrise, Luca Moretti would be dead.

The club was alive with sin, a heartbeat of music and whispered deals. Shadows flickered across marble floors, drowning in the scent of whiskey and power. He ruled from the back, a king in a black suit, his presence swallowing the room.

I had studied him for months. The way he carried danger like an afterthought, the way his enemies feared him more than death itself. Luca Moretti was untouchable. But I had been sent to do the impossible.

He had never seen me before. But by the time this night was over, he would never forget me.

I moved through the crowd, the red silk of my dress flowing around me like spilled wine. Every step was calculated, a trap hidden in the sway of my hips. And when our eyes met-

I felt it.

The slow, burning recognition.

Luca Moretti didn't just look at a woman. He consumed her.

His gaze dragged over me, dark and knowing, like he had already decided I belonged to him. My stomach tightened-not in fear, but something far more dangerous.

He lifted a hand, beckoning me closer. And just like that, I was in the lion's den.

I slid into the booth beside him, close enough to breathe in his cologne-smoky, spiced, laced with danger.

"I don't believe we've met," he said, voice low, rich, and infuriatingly confident.

I smiled. "Not yet."

His smirk deepened. "And here I thought I knew every beautiful woman in my city."

I traced the rim of my glass, matching his slow, deliberate movements. "Maybe I'm not from your city."

His eyes flickered with interest. "Then what are you doing in my club, bella?"

I leaned in, my lips nearly brushing his ear. "Looking for trouble."

His fingers brushed against my knee, testing. "Then you've come to the right place."

I let him touch me. Let him think I was just another woman drawn to the danger he wore like a crown.

Let him want me.

Because the moment he let his guard down...

I would be the last woman he ever touched.

Luca's touch was light, almost lazy, as his fingers traced along my knee. Testing, teasing. A man used to taking what he wanted.

I should have pulled away. Should have reminded myself why I was here. But instead, I let my lips curve into a slow smile, tilting my head just slightly so my hair brushed his shoulder. A carefully crafted move-one that made it look like I was giving him control, when in reality, I was the one leading him exactly where I wanted.

"I don't think I've seen you before," he murmured, his voice a slow drag of whiskey and sin. "And I make it a point to remember beautiful things."

I ran a fingertip along the edge of my glass, matching his deliberate movements. "Maybe you've just never been looking in the right places."

His smirk deepened. A predator who knew another when he saw one.

For a long moment, he simply watched me, as if trying to untangle the mystery I had wrapped myself in. I needed that. I needed him intrigued, curious-distracted. Because the longer he was thinking about how much he wanted me, the less he'd be thinking about the knife strapped to my thigh.

A server arrived, placing a fresh drink in front of me. Luca didn't look at her, didn't break his stare. "On the house," he said. "A welcome gift."

I tilted my head. "Do you make a habit of giving gifts to strangers?"

His lips twitched. "Only the dangerous ones."

He was testing me. A man like him wouldn't fall for an easy trick. He wanted to see how far I'd let him go-how much I was willing to risk.

So I played the game.

I lifted the glass to my lips, taking a slow sip, never breaking eye contact. I didn't flinch at the burn of expensive whiskey or the way his gaze darkened when I licked a stray drop from my lips.

His hand slid just a fraction higher on my leg, fingertips ghosting along the slit in my dress. "Tell me, bella, do you always flirt with danger?"

I exhaled a soft laugh. "Only when danger flirts back."

Luca leaned in, close enough that his breath warmed my skin. "And what happens when danger bites?"

I turned my head just slightly, letting our lips brush in the faintest, most tantalizing of touches. "Then I bite back."

For a moment, the air between us was electric. A battle of restraint.

And then-

A scream.

Gunfire erupted from the entrance of the club.

The spell shattered.

Luca was up in an instant, his body shifting between me and the chaos, one hand reaching for the gun holstered beneath his suit.

I did the same, instincts honed from years of training taking over. But just as my fingers brushed the blade hidden beneath my dress, I felt it-

Luca's hand, wrapping around my wrist.

His voice was dark, sharp. "Now, bella, what exactly do you think you're reaching for?"

Shit.

Luca's grip was firm, his fingers pressing into my wrist just enough to make a point-he knew.

I met his gaze, my heartbeat steady even as chaos exploded around us. "What does it look like?" I purred, tilting my head slightly, letting my lips part just enough to keep him distracted. "I was reaching for you."

A lie. A pretty one.

One that might save my life.

Gunshots rang out near the entrance, screams echoing through the club as men in masks stormed in, weapons raised. Luca barely glanced at them-his focus was on me.

"That so?" His voice was velvet-wrapped steel. "Funny, because I could've sworn you were reaching for something sharp."

My mind worked fast, calculating. He hadn't seen the blade. Not fully. If he had, I'd already be dead.

I softened my expression, leaning into his grip just slightly. "And if I was?" I whispered. "Would you stop me?"

For a long, charged moment, he didn't speak. He didn't have to. The weight of his stare said enough-Luca Moretti was intrigued. And that was dangerous.

Then, a man lunged toward us, gun raised.

Luca moved first.

In a single, fluid motion, he released me, grabbed his own weapon, and fired. The man barely had time to react before he collapsed, blood pooling across the marble floor.

The club was in chaos, bodies scrambling for cover as more masked men flooded in. A hit. Someone had come for Luca-and not just anyone. They were professionals.

Which meant one thing: I wasn't the only one sent to kill him tonight.

Shit.

Luca turned back to me, gun still raised, voice low and sharp. "Stay here."

I could've laughed. Like hell.

Instead, I reached forward, grabbing his wrist before he could move. His brows lifted slightly-not many people touched Luca Moretti without consequence.

"You're outnumbered," I said, pitching my voice just enough to sound concerned. Not desperate. Not eager. Just enough to make him think I was a woman caught in the crossfire, not the storm itself. "You need backup."

His lips quirked, amusement flickering in his eyes even as bullets flew around us. "And you think you can help?"

I smiled. He had no idea.

One of the masked men turned toward us, gun raised-too slow. I spun, kicking the weapon from his grip before sweeping his legs out from under him. He hit the floor hard, and before he could react, I snatched the knife from my thigh and drove it clean into his throat.

Luca whistled low, impressed. "Dangerous indeed."

I straightened, wiping my blade on the dead man's jacket. "Told you."

Another shot rang out, barely missing Luca's head. He grabbed my hand without thinking, pulling me behind him as he fired again, taking down another intruder.

I should have let go. Should have broken away. But for some reason, I didn't.

And for the first time in my career, I felt it-

The pull toward my target.

A mistake. A deadly one.

But one I wasn't ready to fix just yet.

Juliette's POV

The first rule of assassination: never get too close.

And yet, here I was, stepping into his world like I belonged, my pulse thrumming like a lover's whisper.

My name is Juliette Devereaux, and by sunrise, Luca Moretti would be dead.

The club was alive with sin, a heartbeat of music and whispered deals. Shadows flickered across marble floors, drowning in the scent of whiskey and power. He ruled from the back, a king in a black suit, his presence swallowing the room.

I had studied him for months. The way he carried danger like an afterthought, the way his enemies feared him more than death itself. Luca Moretti was untouchable. But I had been sent to do the impossible.

He had never seen me before. But by the time this night was over, he would never forget me.

I moved through the crowd, the red silk of my dress flowing around me like spilled wine. Every step was calculated, a trap hidden in the sway of my hips. And when our eyes met-

I felt it.

The slow, burning recognition.

Luca Moretti didn't just look at a woman. He consumed her.

His gaze dragged over me, dark and knowing, like he had already decided I belonged to him. My stomach tightened-not in fear, but something far more dangerous.

He lifted a hand, beckoning me closer. And just like that, I was in the lion's den.

I slid into the booth beside him, close enough to breathe in his cologne-smoky, spiced, laced with danger.

"I don't believe we've met," he said, voice low, rich, and infuriatingly confident.

I smiled. "Not yet."

His smirk deepened. "And here I thought I knew every beautiful woman in my city."

I traced the rim of my glass, matching his slow, deliberate movements. "Maybe I'm not from your city."

His eyes flickered with interest. "Then what are you doing in my club, bella?"

I leaned in, my lips nearly brushing his ear. "Looking for trouble."

His fingers brushed against my knee, testing. "Then you've come to the right place."

I let him touch me. Let him think I was just another woman drawn to the danger he wore like a crown.

Let him want me.

Because the moment he let his guard down...

I would be the last woman he ever touched.

Luca's touch was light, almost lazy, as his fingers traced along my knee. Testing, teasing. A man used to taking what he wanted.

I should have pulled away. Should have reminded myself why I was here. But instead, I let my lips curve into a slow smile, tilting my head just slightly so my hair brushed his shoulder. A carefully crafted move-one that made it look like I was giving him control, when in reality, I was the one leading him exactly where I wanted.

"I don't think I've seen you before," he murmured, his voice a slow drag of whiskey and sin. "And I make it a point to remember beautiful things."

I ran a fingertip along the edge of my glass, matching his deliberate movements. "Maybe you've just never been looking in the right places."

His smirk deepened. A predator who knew another when he saw one.

For a long moment, he simply watched me, as if trying to untangle the mystery I had wrapped myself in. I needed that. I needed him intrigued, curious-distracted. Because the longer he was thinking about how much he wanted me, the less he'd be thinking about the knife strapped to my thigh.

A server arrived, placing a fresh drink in front of me. Luca didn't look at her, didn't break his stare. "On the house," he said. "A welcome gift."

I tilted my head. "Do you make a habit of giving gifts to strangers?"

His lips twitched. "Only the dangerous ones."

He was testing me. A man like him wouldn't fall for an easy trick. He wanted to see how far I'd let him go-how much I was willing to risk.

So I played the game.

I lifted the glass to my lips, taking a slow sip, never breaking eye contact. I didn't flinch at the burn of expensive whiskey or the way his gaze darkened when I licked a stray drop from my lips.

His hand slid just a fraction higher on my leg, fingertips ghosting along the slit in my dress. "Tell me, bella, do you always flirt with danger?"

I exhaled a soft laugh. "Only when danger flirts back."

Luca leaned in, close enough that his breath warmed my skin. "And what happens when danger bites?"

I turned my head just slightly, letting our lips brush in the faintest, most tantalizing of touches. "Then I bite back."

For a moment, the air between us was electric. A battle of restraint.

And then-

A scream.

Gunfire erupted from the entrance of the club.

The spell shattered.

Luca was up in an instant, his body shifting between me and the chaos, one hand reaching for the gun holstered beneath his suit.

I did the same, instincts honed from years of training taking over. But just as my fingers brushed the blade hidden beneath my dress, I felt it-

Luca's hand, wrapping around my wrist.

His voice was dark, sharp. "Now, bella, what exactly do you think you're reaching for?"

Shit.

Luca's grip was firm, his fingers pressing into my wrist just enough to make a point-he knew.

I met his gaze, my heartbeat steady even as chaos exploded around us. "What does it look like?" I purred, tilting my head slightly, letting my lips part just enough to keep him distracted. "I was reaching for you."

A lie. A pretty one.

One that might save my life.

Gunshots rang out near the entrance, screams echoing through the club as men in masks stormed in, weapons raised. Luca barely glanced at them-his focus was on me.

"That so?" His voice was velvet-wrapped steel. "Funny, because I could've sworn you were reaching for something sharp."

My mind worked fast, calculating. He hadn't seen the blade. Not fully. If he had, I'd already be dead.

I softened my expression, leaning into his grip just slightly. "And if I was?" I whispered. "Would you stop me?"

For a long, charged moment, he didn't speak. He didn't have to. The weight of his stare said enough-Luca Moretti was intrigued. And that was dangerous.

Then, a man lunged toward us, gun raised.

Luca moved first.

In a single, fluid motion, he released me, grabbed his own weapon, and fired. The man barely had time to react before he collapsed, blood pooling across the marble floor.

The club was in chaos, bodies scrambling for cover as more masked men flooded in. A hit. Someone had come for Luca-and not just anyone. They were professionals.

Which meant one thing: I wasn't the only one sent to kill him tonight.

Shit.

Luca turned back to me, gun still raised, voice low and sharp. "Stay here."

I could've laughed. Like hell.

Instead, I reached forward, grabbing his wrist before he could move. His brows lifted slightly-not many people touched Luca Moretti without consequence.

"You're outnumbered," I said, pitching my voice just enough to sound concerned. Not desperate. Not eager. Just enough to make him think I was a woman caught in the crossfire, not the storm itself. "You need backup."

His lips quirked, amusement flickering in his eyes even as bullets flew around us. "And you think you can help?"

I smiled. He had no idea.

One of the masked men turned toward us, gun raised-too slow. I spun, kicking the weapon from his grip before sweeping his legs out from under him. He hit the floor hard, and before he could react, I snatched the knife from my thigh and drove it clean into his throat.

Luca whistled low, impressed. "Dangerous indeed."

I straightened, wiping my blade on the dead man's jacket. "Told you."

Another shot rang out, barely missing Luca's head. He grabbed my hand without thinking, pulling me behind him as he fired again, taking down another intruder.

I should have let go. Should have broken away. But for some reason, I didn't.

And for the first time in my career, I felt it-

The pull toward my target.

A mistake. A deadly one.

But one I wasn't ready to fix just yet.

Juliette's POV

A sharp crack shattered the moment.

Gunfire.

Close. Too close.

Luca moved on instinct, his body pressing me down against the counter as glass exploded behind us. My mind snapped into focus, years of training kicking in as I shoved him off, reaching for the knife still strapped to my thigh.

The second shot came from the balcony. A shadow moved-fast, precise.

Sniper.

My pulse stayed steady. Assess. React. Kill.

I rolled off the counter just as another bullet tore through the space where my head had been. Luca was already moving, pulling a gun from beneath his jacket, his face dark with rage.

"Stay down," he ordered.

I ignored him.

My body moved before my mind could catch up, instincts overriding logic as I sprinted toward the window, launching off the couch and twisting mid-air.

One. Two. Three.

My blade sliced through the darkness, catching the faintest glint of steel. A muffled grunt sounded as my target staggered back, blood darkening his sleeve.

But he wasn't dead.

And now, he knew exactly who he was dealing with.

I landed in a crouch, my breath controlled, muscles coiled.

The sniper-tall, masked, lethal-turned his attention from Luca to me. A flicker of hesitation. A recalculation.

Luca was the target.

But now I was a threat.

I smirked, flipping the knife in my grip. "You gonna make me work for it?"

The assassin lunged.

Steel met steel as I dodged, twisting my body just enough to feel the blade slice through the air. He was fast. Trained.

Not just some hired gun.

But neither was I.

He struck again, aiming for my ribs. I sidestepped, gripping his wrist and twisting-hard. A sickening pop echoed as the knife clattered to the floor.

He barely reacted.

Instead, he used his momentum, slamming his elbow into my ribs. Pain flared, but I gritted my teeth, driving my knee into his gut.

We moved like two shadows locked in battle.

Silent. Deadly.

Then-

A gunshot roared through the penthouse.

The assassin jerked. His body went rigid.

And then he crumpled.

Luca stood behind him, gun still aimed, smoke curling from the barrel. His dark eyes flicked to me, something unreadable in them.

"You hesitated."

It wasn't a question. It was an observation. A challenge.

I wiped blood from my lip, my heart hammering beneath my ribs. "I had it under control."

Luca's gaze swept over me, slow and knowing. "Did you?"

I didn't answer.

Because for the first time in my life, I wasn't sure.

The room smelled like gunpowder and blood.

The assassin lay motionless at my feet, his mask askew, his eyes still open but unseeing. Luca stood over him, his gun still raised, his breathing steady-too steady.

He was watching me. Waiting. Calculating.

"You hesitated," he said again, voice low, unreadable.

I swallowed hard, forcing my body to relax. "I had control."

He stepped closer. "Did you?"

The way he said it sent a chill down my spine-not because he doubted me, but because I did.

Luca had seen it, the flicker of hesitation that hadn't been there before. I could have finished the kill. I should have. But for the first time in my life, I'd been distracted.

By him.

By the way his hands had been on me. By the way my heart had raced for an entirely different reason moments before the first shot had been fired.

His gaze flicked to my shoulder, where a deep graze from the assassin's blade was still dripping blood down my arm. Before I could protest, his fingers curled around my wrist. Firm. Unyielding.

"Sit."

I let out a breath. "I don't need-"

"Sit, Juliette."

It wasn't a request.

For a second, I thought about pushing him away. But then he pulled me toward the couch, guiding me down as if he had any right to touch me so gently.

Luca knelt in front of me, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. His movements were careful as he pressed it against my wound, applying just enough pressure to make me hiss.

His eyes snapped to mine. "Hold still."

I narrowed my gaze. "You don't get to order me around."

The corner of his lips curled-not quite a smirk, but close. "Then stop letting me."

A muscle in my jaw ticked. Infuriating bastard.

But I stayed still, letting him work.

It should have been nothing. Just a man tending to a wound. But with every brush of his fingertips, with every moment that stretched between us, the air thickened.

His hands were steady, practiced. I had no doubt he'd done this before-stitched up wounds, cleaned up blood. But there was something about the way he was doing it now, the way his touch lingered just a fraction too long, the way his eyes traced my face as if memorizing it.

As if he was seeing me for the first time.

"You're too calm," I murmured. "Most people would be shaken after a sniper tries to take their head off."

He didn't look up as he wrapped a strip of cloth around my arm, tying it in place with practiced ease. "I stopped being most people a long time ago."

I believed that.

Silence settled between us. A dangerous one. The kind that made me aware of everything-the warmth of his hands, the way his knee was barely brushing mine, the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest.

This was a mistake.

A reckless, stupid, deadly mistake.

But for some reason, I didn't move.

Luca sat back slightly, his eyes never leaving mine. "Who are you, Juliette?"

The question was soft. Deceptively casual. But I wasn't stupid.

He was starting to suspect me.

I should lie. I should deflect. But for some reason, the words tangled in my throat.

His fingers brushed against my knee, light but deliberate. His voice dropped lower. Rougher.

"Are you my enemy?"

I swallowed, my pulse hammering against my ribs.

I should say yes.

I should kill him before he figures me out.

Instead, I whispered, "Would it matter if I was?"

Luca tilted his head, studying me, his gaze dark and unreadable. Then, so softly I almost didn't hear it-

"I think I'd want you anyway."

My breath caught.

Because I wasn't sure if I was more terrified of him knowing the truth.

Or of the fact that I wanted him too.

I should have walked away.

Instead, I stayed.

Luca's words clung to me like a curse, sinking into the deepest part of me.

"I think I'd want you anyway."

I wanted to laugh. To tell him he was a fool. But the truth was, I felt it too.

This pull. This impossibility.

And it was going to get us both killed.

I tore my gaze away from him, standing too quickly. His hands didn't stop me this time, but I could feel his eyes on me as I paced the length of the room, every nerve in my body screaming at me to get out.

To leave. To run.

But before I could, my phone buzzed inside my pocket.

I already knew who it was.

Luca's head tilted slightly, watching me. Calculating. I turned my back to him as I answered.

"It should have been done by now."

The voice was distorted-cold, distant, inhuman.

I forced my grip to remain steady. "There was a complication."

A pause. Then, "Fix it. Or we'll send someone else."

The line went dead.

I stood there for a long moment, the weight of the words pressing into my ribs.

Fix it.

Kill him.

The order should have been simple. I had killed for less.

But something in me-something I had long since buried-hesitated.

I turned back to Luca. He was still sitting on the couch, legs spread, hands clasped, studying me like he could read every secret I had ever kept.

If he knew. If he had even the faintest idea who I really was-he wouldn't hesitate.

He'd put a bullet between my eyes without a second thought.

And yet... he hadn't.

"You look troubled, Juliette." His voice was smooth, teasing. But there was something else there.

I forced a smirk, masking the chaos inside me. "What gave me away?"

Luca leaned back, his lips curling just slightly. "I've met enough liars to know when someone's pretending."

A test.

He was waiting for me to slip. To give him a reason to pin me against the wall and demand the truth.

But if he was playing a game-so was I.

I walked toward him, slow, deliberate. I could feel the shift in the air, the way his attention sharpened as I got closer. Testing him back.

I stopped just in front of him, lowering myself onto his lap before he could react. His body tensed beneath me, but he didn't push me away.

Instead, his hands brushed against my waist, just barely.

I leaned in, my lips ghosting the shell of his ear. "And what do you think I'm pretending to be, Luca?"

His breath hitched. For a second-just a second-I thought he might break.

Instead, he exhaled a slow, dark chuckle, his grip on my waist tightening. Not pulling me away. Not pulling me closer. Just holding.

"Dangerous." His lips barely moved, but I felt the word against my skin.

I smiled, but my heart slammed against my ribs. "You don't think I am?"

Luca shifted, his mouth brushing against my jaw in a way that felt almost unintentional. But I knew better.

"I think you are," he murmured. "I just don't think you know what kind of danger you are yet."

His words sent a shiver down my spine.

Because he was right.

I didn't know what kind of danger this was. But I knew it wasn't the kind I could escape.

And for the first time in my life-I didn't know if I wanted to.