**LUCA**
I watched Scarlett Vale stumble out of Club Nero like a deer fleeing a wolf, and felt satisfaction curl through my chest. She was perfect. Terrified, desperate, and completely out of her depth.
Marco appeared at my elbow the moment she disappeared through the door. My consigliere had the build of a boxer and the mind of a chess master. Right now, his scarred face showed disapproval.
"You just paid two hundred thousand for a girl who can't dance," he said flatly.
"I paid two hundred thousand for exclusivity." I turned away from the door. "Run a background check. Full workup. I want to know everything about Scarlett Vale by morning."
"That's not her real name."
"I know." I headed toward my private office on the second floor. "Find out what is."
Marco followed. "Boss, this is a mistake. You don't pay for women. You don't contract with them. You certainly don't give them money upfront before you've even fucked them."
I poured myself three fingers of whiskey from the bar in my office. "Your concern is noted and ignored."
"She could be anyone. A cop. A plant from the Kozlovs. Some rival family's daughter sent to get close to you."
The whiskey burned down my throat. "Then your background check will tell us that, won't it?"
Marco's jaw tightened, but he pulled out his phone and started typing. "I'll have preliminary information in an hour. Full report by dawn."
"Good. Now get out. I have work to do."
He left without another word.
I settled behind my desk and opened my laptop, but Scarlett's face kept intruding on the financial reports I was supposed to review. The way she'd looked at me when I told her she belonged to me. Fear and something else. Something that made me want to push her further.
My phone buzzed. A text from Enzo, my cousin.
"Uncle Tommaso wants a meeting. Tomorrow. Says it's urgent."
I deleted the message without responding. My uncle had been circling for a position ever since my father died, waiting for me to show weakness.
Another buzz. This time Marco.
"Preliminary info: Scarlett Vale is Sarah Moretti. 22. Criminal justice major. Works two jobs. Parents deceased. One younger sister, Gianna Moretti, 19."
I stared at the name. Moretti. It meant nothing to me, which meant she wasn't connected to any family I knew.
"Keep digging. I want financials, associates, everything."
I set my phone down and tried to focus on the shipment manifests in front of me, but my mind kept drifting back to the audition room. To Scarlett standing naked on that stage, looking at me like I was either her salvation or her damnation.
I'd meant what I said. She was terrible at dancing. Awkward and uncertain, nothing like the professionals who worked at my club. But there was something raw in her desperation that called to something dark in me.
I wanted to own that desperation. Shape it. Use it.
I poured another whiskey.
My father would have laughed at me for this. Salvatore Vitale didn't pay for anything he could take. Didn't make contracts when violence served better. He'd built this empire on blood and fear.
I'd exceeded his expectations. The Vitale family controlled more territory now than when he was alive. More money. More power. More respect.
But Salvatore had never understood patience. Strategy. The value of owning someone completely rather than just taking what you wanted for a night.
Scarlett would dance for me because she had no choice. But eventually, I'd make her want to. Make her crave my attention, my approval, my touch. That was the real power.
My phone rang. Marco.
"Talk," I answered.
"Her sister was kidnapped three days ago. Ransom demand of two hundred thousand, due in thirty days. She transferred the exact amount you gave her to a cryptocurrency wallet two hours ago."
Everything clicked into place. The desperation. The terrible audition. The way she'd signed without reading.
She wasn't a plant or a cop. She was just a girl trying to save her sister.
"Find out who took the sister," I said. "I want names by tomorrow."
"Already on it. The cryptocurrency trail leads to offshore accounts linked to Russian operations. Probably Kozlov's people."
My hand tightened on the phone. Dmitri Kozlov ran human trafficking through the ports I controlled, which meant he was operating on my territory without permission. We'd been circling each other for months, neither wanting open war but neither backing down.
Now he'd inadvertently given me leverage.
"Don't approach yet," I told Marco. "Just watch. I want to know when and where the sister will be released."
"And if she's not?"
"Then we have a different conversation with Kozlov."
I hung up and finished my second whiskey. Scarlett thought she'd made a simple transaction—her body for her sister's life. She had no idea she'd just walked into the middle of a power struggle that had been brewing for months.
The question was whether to tell her. Whether to use her as bait or keep her ignorant.
I decided on ignorance. For now.
A knock on my door interrupted my thoughts. Valentina walked in without waiting for permission.
"She's gone," Valentina said, settling into the chair across from my desk. "Drove away in a car that should have died five years ago."
"Your point?"
"My point is that the girl is genuinely desperate, Luca. Not playing games. Not running a con. Actually terrified and willing to do anything to save someone she loves." Valentina's expression was unreadable. "Be careful with her."
"I'm always careful."
"No, you're always in control. That's different." She stood. "I've been doing this a long time. I can spot the ones who break easy and the ones who don't. She's the kind who'll shatter into a million pieces if you push too hard."
"Then I'll make sure to push just hard enough."
Valentina shook her head. "You really are your father's son sometimes."
She left before I could respond.
I checked my watch. It's nearly midnight. My day had started at six AM with a meeting about the new shipment routes. It should have ended hours ago.
I pulled up my calendar. Tomorrow was packed. Morning meeting with the legitimate business managers. Lunch with a city councilman. Afternoon negotiations with the union representatives from the docks.
And at ten PM, Scarlett would be back in my audition room, naked and afraid and mine.
My phone buzzed again. Another text from Enzo.
"Uncle T is asking questions about you. About whether you're distracted. Said something about you making "emotional decisions" lately."
I stared at the message. Tommaso had spies everywhere, which meant he might already know about Scarlett.
"Tell him I'll meet with him Friday. My office. Noon."
"He wants tomorrow."
"Friday. He can wait."
Making my uncle wait was a power move. Reminding him who ran this family.
My phone buzzed one final time. Marco.
"Full background complete. Sending now. But boss, there's something you need to see. Her father's name was James Moretti. Former Chicago PD detective. Died of cancer five years ago."
The name hit me like ice water.
James Moretti. Detective James Moretti.
The man who killed my father.
I stood frozen, staring at that name, as everything I thought I understood about tonight shifted into something else entirely.
Scarlett Vale wasn't just some desperate girl. She was the daughter of the man who'd murdered Salvatore Vitale twelve years ago. The man I'd spent years trying to hunt down before cancer took him first.
And she'd just signed a contract putting herself in my hands for an entire year.
"Marco," I said when I called him back. "Does she know who I am?"
"No indication she does. Everything suggests she used a fake name for privacy, not because she's hiding from you specifically."
"And the sister's kidnapping?"
"Unrelated to us. Just bad timing."
I laughed. It was a cold sound. "There's no such thing as coincidence, Marco."
"What do you want to do?"
I looked out at my city, at the empire my father had built and I'd expanded. Salvatore would have killed her the moment he learned her identity. Would have made it slow and painful and public.
But I wasn't my father.
"Nothing," I said. "We proceed as planned."
"Boss….."
"She doesn't know who I am. She doesn't know who her father was to me. And we're going to keep it that way until I decide otherwise."
"This is a mistake."
"Your opinion is noted. Now send me the full file."
I hung up and waited for the documents to arrive. When they did, I opened them and started reading everything there was to know about Scarlett Vale, also known as Sarah Moretti.
Daughter of my father's killer.
And mine for the next three hundred sixty-five days.
"Welcome to my world, Scarlett," I murmured to the empty room. "Let's see how long you survive it."