Fierce Attraction (Obsessive Dons #1)

Prologue

Giovanni Renzetti

Six Years earlier…

The engine hums beneath us, low and steady like the tension sitting in my chest. I ride shotgun while Tomasso drives, his fingers drumming on the wheel as we wind through the outskirts of the city.

It’s past midnight, but sleep is the last thing on my mind.

There's a shipment coming in, one that could shift the balance of power in our favor. But something about tonight doesn’t sit right.

Tomasso glances over. “You’re quiet.”

I nod once; eyes locked on the dark stretch of the road ahead. “Just thinking.”

Thinking about the weight on my shoulders, the empire I’m meant to inherit, and the boy I left back at the villa: my little brother, Alessio.

He’s not so little anymore, but he still looks at me like I hold up the sky.

And maybe I do, for him. He can’t speak, can’t hear, but he’s sharp and reads lips like a wizard.

He is observant, too. Always watching, always trying.

He was born into a world that chews men up and spits out the weak, and that world has never been kind to him.

But he’s my brother. My blood. And no matter how cold or cruel the whispers get, I’ve always protected him. Hell, I’ve even broken a few teeth and noses for his sake.

The car slows to a stop in front of the dockyard. Tomasso turns off the engine and reaches under his seat to grab his extra weapon. I do the same. My Glock feels cold in my hand. Familiar and comforting.

“We go in, we talk business, and we get out,” Tomasso mutters.

I nod again. But yet my gut twists.

The minute we step inside, the air changes. It’s too still. The dealer, Salvatore or whatever the hell his name is, greets us with a grin that doesn’t touch his eyes. His men linger in the shadows, too many for a simple deal.

We talk. Numbers. Inventory. But it’s all bullshit. I know it. Tomasso knows it.

Then the first shot rings out, and I confirm what my gut has been telling me.

I have walked into a fucking ambush.

“Cover!” I bark, diving behind an abandoned twenty-foot container as the whole place erupts in gunfire.

Tomasso’s yelling. Bullets tear through the air like thunderclaps. I fire back, chest heaving, mind sharp, until a blazing heat slices through my side. My knees hit the ground. My vision spins. Voices blend together. My fingers slip from the trigger.

And as everything fades, only one thought burns through the darkness;

Alessio.

He’s not ready. God, please let him be strong enough to survive without me.

I come to in a haze of antiseptic, light, pain, and murmuring voices. Tomasso leans over me, surprise lighting up his bloodshot eyes. My father sits in a chair near the window, stiff and silent.

“Finally! You’re awake!” Tomasso exclaims, relief breaking through his voice like a dam.

“How long?” I croak, groaning in pain.

“Three weeks.”

My mind begins to clear slowly. The sterile walls, the beeping monitor, the ache in my ribs. But none of it compares to the blow that comes next.

My father stands and walks toward me. His eyes, red and hunted, fix on mine.

“Alessio is dead.”

What the fuck did he just say?

“What?”

“He took his own life. Two weeks ago.”

My lungs seize. I blink, waiting for something else, for a correction, a lie, anything.

But it’s the truth.

Tomasso turns away, jaw clenched. My father pats my leg in the only way he knows how to show comfort.

As I protest the news, they hand me the letter he left behind.

His handwriting is small and neat. Each word carves a new wound into my already bleeding soul.

To my family,

I’m sorry. I know you love me. But love is not always enough.

I’m tired of pretending I belong in a world that isn’t meant for me. I’m tired of being a disappointment. Of being the shame no one speaks about.

And now that Giovanni may not be around to carry on the family name, I can’t hide how useless I am.

What’s the point of being here if I’m just a reminder of everything wrong?

If Giovanni ever wakes up, tell him I’m sorry I couldn’t be stronger.

Tell him he was always my hero. But if he never does, then I will tell him myself.

Goodbye.

Alessio

I read it until the ink blurs. Until my fists bleed from punching the wall. Until I’m hoarse from screaming into the silence he left behind.

He was just a boy.

My brother.

My responsibility.

I remember the way he used to mimic me. The way we created our own language, gestures only we understood. The way he laughed without sound but with his whole body. How he’d press his fingers to my chest when he was scared, seeking calm. Seeking me.

And I failed him.

I let him drown in a world I was meant to control. A world that chewed him up and spat him out dead because he was different.

Because he was soft.

Because no one thought he could lead.

Not even him.

A week later, I stand over his grave, the stone slick with early morning dew. The cemetery is empty. No priests, no mourners. Just me.

A bouquet of white lilies lies at the base. He hated flowers, said they reminded him of funerals. I bring them anyway.

I kneel, palm against the cold marble.

Alessio Renzetti.

Beloved son. Cherished brother.

I stare at the words. My jaw locks.

“I'm sorry,” I whisper. “I should’ve seen it. I should’ve fought harder for you.”

The wind stirs. A bird cries somewhere overhead.

I clench my fists.

“No one else will suffer like you did,” I vow. “Not while I’m alive.”

A storm brews inside me, one that won’t pass with time. I will become the man our world fears. A leader who protects his own. Who kills without hesitation. Who burns down kingdoms before letting another Alessio fall through the cracks.

My grief hardens into resolve.

“I’ve made all your bullies pay, brother. Every single one of them. And I’ll build a world where no one like you is ever treated like a burden again.”

I press my hand to the stone once more.

Then I rise, and I walk away, no longer just the heir.

Now, I’m a man shaped by loss.

And one day, I’ll be a Don forged in fire.

Because the world took Alessio from me.

And I plan that it will never happen under my watch again.