He saves her life with one steel grip. Then he takes her body in a single, storm-drenched night of raw, unrestrained passion. One night of tangled sheets, teeth on skin, and her name torn from his throat as he pins her beneath him, over him, against the wall. One night of whispered filth and reverent worship, of her nails scoring his back while he marks every inch of her softness with his mouth, his hands, his release. One night where he loses himself so completely inside her that he forgets how to breathe without her.

And then, before sunrise, he ghosts her. He slips from the bed like a thief, leaving only the scent of sex, salt, and his silver lighter behind. He runs from the terrifying truth: this gentle flower girl has cracked his chest open and crawled inside his heart.

But a wolf can only run so far when the woman he craves carries his marks on her skin and his name on her lips.

Weeks later he’s back, haunting her flower shop, desperate to explain, to beg, to claim. She refuses to listen… until the night his control shatters and he carries her away into the storm again.

He ghosted her once to protect her from his darkness.
He’ll burn the entire city to the ground before he lets her go a second time.

A scorching, detailed spicy mafia romance packed with explicit, richly written intimate scenes (every touch, every gasp, every possessive thrust described in unapologetic, sensual detail), slow-burn obsession, a brooding Italian alpha who falls first and hardest, a soft heroine who refuses to break, “touch her and you die” energy, light restraint, and the grovel of a lifetime.

If you crave page-melting spice, heart-wrenching grovel, and a mafia hero who runs from love only to come back feral and obsessed…
Welcome to game of heart , where the wolf flees the sunrise, but the flower is the one who keeps him forever.