The first time I met Alessio Russo I was eighteen. He'd barged into my room. I yelled. He yelled. We argued. I slammed the door into the jerk's face. Then I discovered that the drool-worthy prick was my best friend's oldest brother -- who had connections to Cassio King and the mafia. The freaking mafia! The second time I saw him was at his mother's funeral. He didn't seem to recognize me. Or so I thought until we ended up tangled up...