Chained by the Mafia Heiress

I was the mafia heiress's secret lover, and her most trusted right-hand man for six years.

I took bullets for her, fought her wars, and barely clawed my way back from death after three days in critical condition.

When I opened my eyes, the usually cold and untouchable heiress had tears streaming down her face.

Not for me.

Her first love—the golden boy who left years ago—had just returned.

Completely heartbroken, I walked away for good.

Yet she hunted me down, broke my legs, and chained me to her bed. Stroking the bullet scar across my chest, she whispered intoxicatingly in my ear: