Adriane
The girl was like fire. Most daughters in this world knew their place; they kept their heads down, smiled when spoken to, and played the role of perfect little ornaments for their fathers' empires.
But not Alessia Romano.
She looked me straight in the eye as if she weren't afraid. It was as if she didn't understand what I was—or maybe she did and simply didn't care. Either way, it made me curious to find out how far she could push before breaking.
The first thing I noticed was her mouth. Full. Soft. The kind of mouth a man could ruin and still not be satisfied. She tried to hide the flush that crept up her neck, but I'd been watching people my entire life. I saw it, and I saw the spark in her. Reckless. Untamed.
Her father didn't deserve her. He didn't deserve a daughter at all, especially not one like her—bright and sharp in a house full of shadows.
At first, I had no plans of taking her. My business with Luca Romano was about territory, shipments, and money. But then she opened that mouth and defied him in front of me, and suddenly, I wanted more than just the deal. I wanted her. I left him with my terms. He did not agree. Not yet, but he would. They always do.
In my car, the city lights blurred past the tinted windows, and I could still smell her—sweet, warm, feminine—clinging to my suit. It was under my skin now, like a taste I craved more of. I'd given her father a choice. I knew he wouldn't like it, but it was the one he had to make. Alessia Romano was already mine.
I poured myself a drink the moment I got home, the whiskey burning down my throat like the thoughts I couldn't shake.
Alessia Romano.
If the whispers were right, she was twenty two years old. She was untouched by the business, kept in a gilded cage by a man who thought he could shield her from the world he swam in. A man who, ironically, made her the perfect target.
It wasn't just her beauty though... Christ, she was a vision. It was the way she looked at me, like she wanted to spit in my face and kiss me in the same breath. That kind of defiance didn't come often, and when it did, it was worth breaking.
I wasn't in the habit of taking what didn't serve a purpose, but she would serve plenty. She wasn't just leverage; she was a warning to her father. She would serve me in every way I wanted.
I set the glass down and reached for my phone. A single number glowed on the screen. I had made sure she would see it; I knew it would tempt her like a blade glimmering in the dark. I didn't expect her to call tonight, but deep down, I knew she would. They always do. And when she calls, I'll be ready. Once she takes a step towards me, there will be no going back.
The next morning I was already in motion. I didn't wait for her call because waiting wasn't really my style. If I wanted something, I went and took it.
Matteo stood by the car, scanning the street like he always did. "You're early," he said.
"I've got somewhere to be."
His brow lifted just enough for me to know he'd figured it out. "Romano's girl?"
I didn't bother to answer. I got into the car, and we drove across the city through the gray chill of an overcast morning. I had made a few calls before sunrise and had enough information to know where she would be—her cousin's café on the corner of Seventh and Mulberry. It was a quiet place, easy to get in and even easier to find her alone.
When the car rolled to a stop, I spotted her through the café's front window. She was sitting at a table by the glass, stirring a coffee she hadn't touched, her dark hair spilling forward as she scrolled through her phone.
In the daylight, she looked softer and less guarded. But the tempting allure of her mouth remained, waiting to be claimed.
"Ten minutes," I told Matteo.
I stepped inside, the doorbell announcing my arrival. Her head lifted, and for a moment, surprise flickered across her face—then suspicion.
"Are you following me now?" she asked, voice low but sharp.
I took the chair across from her without invitation. "If I were, you wouldn't know."
Her lips pressed together, like she was trying not to give me the satisfaction of a smile. I leaned back, letting my gaze rest on her in that way I knew unsettled people. "I thought we should finish our conversation from last night."
"We didn't have a conversation," she shot back. "You stared at me, made some cryptic threats, and left."
"That was a conversation." leaning forward looking straight into her eyes. God were they tempting.
She rolled her eyes, but there was a faint flush in her cheeks. "And what exactly do you want now?"
I let the pause stretch, slow and deliberate, until she shifted in her seat.
"You," I said finally.
*****
Alessia
For a second, I thought I'd misheard him. The clatter of cups and low hum of conversation in the café faded under the weight of those three letters, heavy and deliberate.
You.
He said it like it was inevitable. Like it wasn't a choice, but a fact written somewhere in the bones of the earth. I leaned back, crossing my arms, pretending like my heart wasn't pounding against my ribs. "That's… specific."
His mouth twitched just enough to tell me he liked my answer.
"I don't like wasting time," he said. "And I don't lie about what I want."
I forced a laugh, light and mocking, even though it felt like every nerve in my body was tuned to him. "Well, good news. I'm not for sale."
"I didn't say I was buying you."
The way he looked at me made my skin heat, like he was already undressing me in his mind, layer by layer. I hated that I liked it and wanted more. I could admit it to him, to myself. I tried to hold his gaze, to act unaffected, but my legs crossed under the table without me thinking about it, and his eyes flicked down for a second before returning to mine. That tiny movement felt like a touch, and I hated that I noticed.
"What's the game here, Cavallo?" I asked, my voice quieter than I meant it to be. "Leverage against my father? A trophy to hang on your wall?"
His gaze sharpened, dangerous but not cruel. "When I want leverage, I take it. When I want a trophy, I win it."
"And me?"
His smile was slow, and it made my stomach flip. "You're neither. You're something else."
I swallowed, suddenly aware of how close we were sitting, how the heat from his body seemed to reach me across the table and how my nipples pressed hard on my bra.
"I'm not interested" I said, even though the lie tasted bitter.
He leaned forward, his voice so low I felt it in my chest. "Then you haven't thought hard enough about what you're saying no to."
My breath caught. I hated that he had seen it, and worse, that I knew exactly what he meant.
"I'm not the kind of girl who falls for mafia fairy tales," I said, tilting my chin up. "You can keep the brooding stares and cryptic lines for someone else."
He didn't flinch. Didn't even blink. "I don't tell fairy talespiccola, I tell truths. They just happen to sound like threats."
God help me, I almost smiled.
The waitress came by with a polite nervous smile, her eyes darting to Adriane and then quickly away. "Anything for you, sir?"
He didn't look at her. "An espresso." Then, to me: "and whatever she's having. Put it on my tab."
"I can pay for my own coffee," I said.
"I know. But I'll pay for it anyway."
It wasn't about the coffee. It was about control. I should've pushed the cup away when it came, but instead, I found myself wrapping my hands around the warm porcelain like it was some kind of anchor. He sipped his espresso like he had all the time in the world. I hated the quiet confidence in him. The way he didn't need to rush me, because he already believed I'd fold.
"I don't even know why you're here," I muttered.
"Yes, you do," he said, setting the tiny cup down. "I know you've been thinking about me since last night."
My head snapped up. "I have not."
He smiled. Slow. Certain. "Liar."
Heat crawled up my neck, He was right, and the worst part was he knew it. I should have gotten up and walked away. I should have told him to go to hell but instead, I stayed in my seat. I told myself I stayed because walking away would've looked like running. But the truth was uglier.
I wanted to see what he'd do next. Adriane leaned back, his gaze sweeping over me like he was memorizing every inch. "Your father will tell you to stay away from me," he said. "He'll make it sound like a warning. He'll mean it as an order."
"I don't take orders," I replied before I could stop myself.
His eyes lit with something dark and pleased. "Good. Then we understand each other."
He reached into his jacket and set something on the table between us. A small, black velvet box. My heart skipped. He pushed it toward me with one finger. "Open it."
I hesitated, then flicked it open. Inside was a delicate gold chain, fine as spider silk, with a tiny silver wolf pendant hanging from it. The same wolf's head from the card I'd found last night.
I looked up at him, confused, suspicious. "What is this?"
His smile was infuriating. "A reminder."
"Of what?"
"That I was here. That I will be again. That you are mine"
Before I could decide whether to throw the necklace in his face or slip it over my head, he stood, leaving a crisp hundred-dollar bill on the table. The bell over the door announcing his absence, the cold air rushing in to fill the space he'd occupied. It didn't push out the scent of him, or the heat he'd left behind.
I sat there for a long time, staring at the little wolf glinting in the light. I should throw it away. Burn it. Forget it but instead, I slipped it into my pocket. A part of me was excited, partly scared because I already knew whatever this was, it wasn't over. It was only just beginning and I was here for it