Page 6 of Marco

Those piercing eyes sweep the interior of my café, seeming to miss nothing. I feel pinned in place as they settle on me for a long moment before moving on.

My heart is racing and my mouth goes dry. Everything about this man screams danger, from the coiled tension in his powerful body to the subtle air of command that surrounds him. He moves with the relaxed grace of a predator.

But as unsettled as I am by his presence, I can't ignore the involuntary attraction I feel either. He's possibly the most gorgeous man I've ever seen. There's a magnetic pull to him that's impossible to resist, despite the undercurrent of menace he carries. And maybe because of it.

He heads straight for the counter, the other patrons shrinking back instinctively to clear a path. When he reaches me, he leans in, hands braced on the worn wood. His scent envelops me, clean and masculine.

"I need to speak with you," he says, his voice a low rumble that sends heat curling through me. "Now."

My mouth goes dry again under the intensity of that glacier gaze. I have no idea who this dangerous stranger is, but I know with sudden certainty that my life will never be the same.

I steel myself and meet his intense gaze head-on. "I'm listening," I say evenly, hoping he doesn't notice the slight tremor in my hands. "Can I get you something? A coffee or a pastry, maybe?" I gesture at the counter in front of him.

His eyes narrow, likely unused to being challenged. "Not here. Somewhere private."

I bristle at his presumption. "Anything you want to discuss with me can be said right here."

He steps closer, using his impressive height to loom over me. "I don't think you want your customers hearing this conversation," he says, voice pitched low.

I glance around quickly, noting the avid interest on the nearby faces. He's right, the last thing I need is to alarm my regulars.

"Fine," I bite out. "We can talk in the back office, five minutes." I'm taking a risk, but something tells me he won't take no for an answer.

He gives a curt nod and moves away. Beckoning one of my baristas over to man the cash register, I head to the office on shaky legs, berating myself. I should call the police, not entertain this threatening stranger. But he hasn't exactly done anything wrong yet, and something tells me the police would be useless against him anyway.

I just need to hear him out, then send him on his way. Maybe sneak a few peeks at his handsome face and his ripped body that ripples underneath his suit. I can handle five minutes alone with him. I think.

I take a deep breath to steady my nerves before entering the office, closing the door behind me. He stands with his back to me, perusing the café photos on my wall. He cuts an imposing figure even from behind, tall and broad-shouldered in an impeccably tailored suit that makes me think about nothing more than what his body looks like underneath. Tattoos peek out from under his shirt cuffs and his shirt collar. Neck and hand tattoos, my God.

I clear my throat and he turns, pinning me with an assessing look. "Well?" I ask tightly. "Who are you, for starters? And what's so important you had to disrupt my business?"

His mouth quirks. "Straight to the point. I appreciate that." He moves closer and I fight the urge to step back. "I have some business nearby that requires discretion. I don't want any...interference. I'm Marco De Luca. You may have heard of me."

My eyes widen as his meaning and the weight of his last name both sink in. But something inside tells me to play it cool. "Doesn't ring a bell."

He eyes me with skepticism. "You really have no idea?"

"Look, all I know is you've come in here and demanded I speak with you right during one of the busiest parts of my day. My customers count on me, you know? Do you know how many conflicts are resolved through adequately caffeinating people? By giving them a sweet treat so flaky and buttery that the only things that come out of their mouths are productive and positive?"

He smirks. "That's all very cute, but that's not the part of your business that I'm interested in."

I sigh. "Criminal business. That's what you're talking about." The conversation, and his presence, are making me uneasy. But my attempts to deflect the subject to more comfortable territory clearly aren't working, so I may as well cut to the chase.

"Labels," he says dismissively. "The point is, it would be best for all involved if your café wasn't operating for a few weeks."

My eyes grow wide. "Excuse me? You're asking me to just… shut my business down? No reason. Just as simple as that?"

"Precisely," Marco nods.

My temper flares. "That's not going to happen. This is my livelihood, and my regulars rely on me to provide coffee and a safe space. I won't let you drive me out."

His eyes flash with surprise and something like amusement. "You don't seem to understand your position here."

"No, you don't understand," I fire back. "I've worked too hard to build this café. Your actions won't control my life."

He considers me silently. Then he steps even closer, forcing me to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. "You're either very brave or very foolish," he murmurs.

My breath catches at his proximity but I lift my chin. "I protect what's mine. That includes my café, my community, my freedom to live without fear. If you try to take that from me, you'll regret it. And while we're on the topic, you and your men need to stop coming around here—to this neighborhood, and to this cafe. You're scaring my customers."

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