Rain fell in relentless sheets, blurring the glow of streetlamps into golden smears. Elena Rossi's breath puffed white in the cold night air as she hurried down the cracked pavement, the hem of her coat brushing her knees. The flower shop had closed late again Mrs DeLuca never remembered the time when she was talking about her roses and now the streets were nearly empty
She hated walking home this late
Her neighborhood wasn't the kind where you lingered. Not with the whispers of gang violence in the air, not when you knew the name "Moretti" was enough to make even the police look the other way
Still, she kept telling herself she was fine. She always walked fast, kept her head down, and minded her own
A sleek black sedan slid up beside her, cutting through the night like a predator through still water. It matched her pace.
Elena's fingers clenched around the strap of her handbag. She didn't look over. She didn't want to
The car stopped. The back door opened with a smooth, expensive click, two men stepped out, tall, broad, and dressed in black suits that were just a little too perfect for anyone who wasn't dangerous
"Elena Rossi?" one of them asked. His voice was deep, flat and not really asking.
She hesitated. "Who wants to know?"
The taller man exchanged a glance with his partner.
Get in the car, Miss Rossi. Mr. Moretti would like to have a word with you.
Her heart stumbled in her chest. Mr. Moretti.
Adrian Moretti — head of the Moretti syndicate, a man whose name was an unspoken warning across the city. She had never met him, but she knew the stories: the people who crossed him vanished, the businesses that refused him crumbled, the enemies who underestimated him bled
"I think you've made a mistake," she tried, her voice steady only because fear had frozen it
The shorter man's jaw tightened. This is not a request.
She took one step back, scanning the street empty. Running would be useless; they were faster, and there was nowhere to run to.
"Now," the tall one said.
Her pulse roaring in her ears, Elena slid into the car.
Inside, the leather seats were soft under her fingers, smelling faintly of expensive cologne. The windows were tinted so dark she could barely see the rain outside. Silence thickened the air, broken only by the quiet hum of the engine as the car moved.
No one spoke to her during the drive, but she could feel eyes in the rearview mirror — watchful, assessing.
They turned through iron gates that swung open without a sound, revealing a sprawling mansion of dark stone and gold-lit windows. It looked like something out of another world, too beautiful and too cold at the same time.
The front doors opened before they reached them
He was waiting,
Adrian Moretti sat behind a mahogany desk that looked as though it had been built to intimidate. His charcoal suit fit him like it had been made for him — probably because it had — and his dark hair was swept back, every strand precise. But it was his eyes that held her. Cold steel, calculating, the kind of gaze that made you feel like you were already stripped bare of your secrets
"Elena Rossi," he said, her name rolling off his tongue like a verdict
She swallowed. "I don't know why I'm here."
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "Your father owed me a debt."
Her chest tightened. She'd known her father had been in trouble before his death, but she hadn't realized it was this kind of trouble.
"A large debt," Adrian continued. "And when a man dies without paying… the debt passes to the next of kin."
"I don't have money," she said quickly.
He smiled faintly — the kind of smile that was more dangerous than anger. "I'm not asking for money".
Then what do you want?
Adrian rose from his chair, and the air between them seemed to change. He walked toward her with deliberate slowness, every step echoing in the high-ceilinged office until he stopped just in front of her
His cologne was subtle, expensive — the kind that lingered — but it was the raw presence of him that stole her breath.
"I want you," he said.
Her lips parted, but no sound came out.
"You will be my wife."
She blinked, sure she'd misheard. That's insane
Adrian's eyes darkened, his voice dropping to a low, unyielding command. "Your father's debt is mine now… and so are you."
Lightning flashed through the rain outside, and the thunder that followed sounded like the world itself breaking.