Welcome to the first chapter of the romantic steamy mafia /ceo/ system/ Transmigration story.
The first thing I realized was that the air didn't smell like my cramped, one-bedroom apartment.
There was no scent of leftover takeout or the faint, metallic tang of the radiator.
Instead, the air was heavy with the fragrance of sandalwood, expensive bourbon, and something sharp like the ozone before a thunderstorm.
The second thing I realized was that the bed was too soft.
I sank into the mattress like it was a cloud made of silk and goose down.
I sat up abruptly, my head spinning.
This wasn't my room.
The walls were a deep, matte charcoal, lit by recessed golden lights that gave the space a predatory, masculine glow.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked a glittering skyline I recognized instantly from a thousand drone-shot transitions in movies.
Chicago.
"No," I whispered, my voice sounding higher, breathier than usual.
"This can't be."
I caught my reflection in the massive mirror across the room and froze.
I wasn't me. Or rather, I wasn't the twenty-six-year-old officer worker who had fallen asleep reading a trashy, R-18 Kindle novel.
The woman in the mirror had skin like porcelain and a mane of dark, wavy hair that spilled over her shoulders.
She was wearing a slip dress of white lace that was so thin it was practically a suggestion.
She looked fragile.
She looked like a lamb waiting for a wolf.
I knew this woman.
This was Serena Rossi....the tragic, disposable side character of The Tyrant's Debt.
In the book, Serena was a pawn.
Her father, a gambling addict with a death wish, had lost three million dollars at an underground casino owned by the Moretti Crime Syndicate.
When he couldn't pay, he offered the only thing he had left: his daughter's service for one year.
In the original plot, Serena spent Chapter 1 crying until her eyes were swollen, which only served to irritate the Male Lead, Dante Moretti.
He hated weakness.
Because of her begging, he treated her like a stray dog for the first 40 chapters before the romance(mostly Stockholm Syndrome) finally kicked in.
"God, I'm in the prologue," I muttered, rubbing my temples.
The door clicked open.
I didn't need to look up to know who it was. The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
The heavy, rhythmic thud of handmade Italian leather shoes on the hardwood floor sent a jolt of pure, primal adrenaline through my veins.
"I was told you were a crier," the voice said.
It was deeper than I had imagined.
It had a rough, gravelly edge to it, like stones grinding together underwater.
I looked up.
Dante Moretti was exactly as the author had described, but the prose hadn't done him justice.
He was massive, easily 6'4" with shoulders that filled the doorway.
His white dress shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, revealing the dark ink of a tattoo creeping up his throat.
His eyes weren't just gray; they were the color of a winter sea, cold and devoid of any warmth.
He was holding a crystal tumbler of amber liquid, swirling it slowly.
"Your father wept like a child when he signed the papers," Dante said, stepping further into the room.
He didn't look at me with lust...not yet.
He looked at me like a landlord inspecting a piece of property he wasn't sure he wanted to keep.
"I expected the same from you.
Yet, here you are, looking at me as if you're calculating the price of my watch."
I realized then that I wasn't crying.
I was staring.
In the book, this was the moment he was supposed to throw a contract on the bed and tell her to get into the shower.
But I knew something the original Serena didn't.
I knew that Dante Moretti was currently being betrayed by his Underboss, Lucca.
I knew that in exactly twenty minutes, a sniper was going to take a shot at that very window behind him.
If I wanted to thrive,I couldn't be the victim.
I had to be an asset.
I stood up.
The silk slip slid against my thighs, and I saw Dante's eyes track the movement.His eyes were fixed at my very sizable titts which was i have say was a fantastic acquisition to this body.
His pupils dilated, just a fraction.
"Crying won't pay back three million dollars, Mr. Moretti," I said, my voice steady.
He paused, the glass halfway to his lips. "You know who I am."
"Everyone knows the man who owns half the Chicago city," I replied, taking a step toward him.
My heart was thundering so hard I thought it might burst, but I kept my face a mask of calm.
"And I know why I'm here.
My father is a coward who sold me to save his own skin.
But you? You're a businessman.
And you know that a broken toy is only fun for a night.
A partner, however... that's worth much more than three million."
Dante let out a short, dark laugh.
He set the glass down on a side table and walked toward me.
He didn't stop until he was inches away.
The heat radiating off him was overwhelming.
He smelled of tobacco and something clean, like rain.
He reached out, his thumb catching my chin and forcing my head back.
His touch was electric, sending a spark of heat straight to my lower stomach.
"A partner?" he hissed, his gaze dropping to my lips.
"You're a girl in a lace nightgown who has never seen a day of work in her life.
You're here because your bloodline owes me.
You're here to be whatever I tell you to be.
If I tell you to get on your knees, you do it.
If I tell you to crawl, you ask how fast.
If I tell you to suck to dick , you will happily open your mouth"
He leaned down, his breath hot against my ear.
"Don't mistake my patience for a negotiation, Serena.
You are the debt.
And I've come to collect."
His hand moved from my chin to the back of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair.
He slowly caressed his way into my breast and takes a small squeeze of it i controlled myself not to moan.
It was a dominant, possessive move, the kind of stuff that filled the Top Ranked sections of the webnovel .
My body reacted before my brain could stop it; a soft moan escaped my throat.
Dante's eyes darkened.
The coldness was replaced by a sudden, violent flare of hunger.
"See?" he whispered. "You're already breaking like a slut".
I forced myself to remember the clock.
Ten minutes until the hit.
I placed my hands on his chest.
His muscles were like granite beneath the thin cotton of his shirt.
I didn't push him away.
Instead, I leaned in closer, feeling the hard line of his frame against mine.
"You can collect, Dante," I whispered, using his first name.
I felt him stiffen at the audacity. "But if you don't move away from that window in the next ten minutes, you won't live long enough to enjoy the interest."
The air in the room turned to ice.
Dante's grip on my hair tightened, pulling my head back further.
I winced from pain.
His expression went from lustful to lethal in a heartbeat.
"What did you say?"
"The West Pier deal," I said, throwing out the piece of information that would save my life. "You think the Russians are the ones moving in on your territory.
They aren't.
It's Lucca.
He's been skimming from the casino accounts for months, and he's hired a shooter to take you out tonight.
Room 402 in the hotel across the street. He's waiting for you to get... distracted."
Dante didn't move.
He stared at me as if trying to see through my skull. "How could you possibly know that?"
"I have a talent for hearing things people think are hidden," I said.
"Now, are you going to keep choking me, or are you going to save your own life?"
For a long moment, I thought he was going to kill me right there.
His hand was so tight I could feel the pulse in his palm.
Then, suddenly, he let go.
He didn't look away from me as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek, black radio.
"Marco. Sweep the Roosevelt Hotel, Room 402.
Now. And bring Lucca to the basement. Don't let him kill himself."
He put the radio away.
The silence that followed was heavy with tension.
Dante looked at me, really looked at me, for the first time.
The toy was gone.
In its place was a woman who knew his darkest secrets.
"If there's no one in that room, Serena ," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "I will make sure you regret every word you just spoke.
I'll make the original debt look like a mercy."
He walked toward the window, staying just to the side of the frame.
He looked out at the city, his jaw tight.
I stayed on the bed, my legs feeling like jelly. I had done it.
I had changed the script.
In the original book, Dante gets shot in the shoulder tonight, and Serena spends the next three chapters nursing his wound while he berates her.
A few minutes passed in agonizing silence. Then, the radio chirped.
"Boss. We got him.
One shooter, Barrett .50 cal.
He was dialed in on your bedroom window. We're picking up Lucca now."
Dante clicked the radio off.
He stood still for a long time, the city lights reflecting in his eyes.
When he finally turned back to me, the look on his face made my heart skip a beat.
It wasn't gratitude.
It was something much more complicated.
He walked back to the bed, but he didn't stop at the edge.
He crawled onto the mattress, his large frame looming over me, trapping me between his arms.
"You saved my life," he murmured, his face inches from mine.
"I saved my investment," I countered, though my voice was trembling.
Dante reached out, his hand tracing the line of the lace over my ass and slowly kneaded it.
I gasped, my back arching slightly at the contact.
"A girl with secrets," he mused, his voice thick with a new kind of intensity.
"You're far more interesting than the file said.
But don't think this changes your status, Serena.
You still belong to me.
In fact..."
He leaned down, his lips brushing against mine...a teasing, agonizingly slow contact.
"...now that I don't have to worry about a sniper, I can give you my full, undivided attention.
And I think we should start by discussing exactly what else you know... and how you're going to pay for the privilege of staying alive."
He captured my lips in a kiss that wasn't a question, but a command.
It was rough, tasting of bourbon and power, and as his hand slid down to the hem of my dress, I realized that surviving this novel was going to be the most delicious challenge of my life.
The debt was just the beginning.
Authors Note:-
Welcome to my new R-18 Transmigration story my dearies , If you enjoyed this first chapter, don't forget to add it to your library and drop some Power Stones, you know the usual grind.
I used the name Dante from some Chicago mafia story and it had a special place in many webnovel veo and mafia novels .
This one is special as there are going to be certain surprises there.
Things are about to get much, much hotter in the Moretti mansion.....