𝗨𝗻𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗴𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲

Chapter two

Noah's POV:

Mornings at the mansion usually started with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, prepared by Diana before I headed to the cells. But today, as I walked into the kitchen, I was greeted with an empty counter. No Diana, no coffee.

"Shit," I muttered, rubbing my temples. Diana had asked for the day off yesterday to visit the doctor, and I'd completely forgotten. Now, I was caffeine-deprived and irritated.

As I stood there cursing my luck, Daniel stormed into the kitchen, looking frantic."What the hell is wrong with you? It's only 10 in the morning," I snapped, my patience already thin.

Daniel, my right-hand man and childhood best friend, never let me down, but he could be dramatic.

"Your father's on the phone," he panted, barely catching his breath.

My heart sank. What could he possibly want now? We hadn't spoken in four months, and that's exactly how I liked it. We only talked when absolutely necessary.

My relationship with my father was strained, to say the least. I hated the man. After my mother's death, he showed just how vile he could be. He spent the next day with some girl he picked up from a club, and then forced me to keep working 72 hours later, like her death was just a minor inconvenience. I was only 17 then, but I swore to never forgive him for that.

Reluctantly, I walked to the office and picked up the phone. "What do you want?" I asked, cutting straight to the point.

"We've got three weeks until the ball event. You better find yourself a partner and make sure she trusts you," he barked, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The ball—one of the most dangerous events of the year. My father hosts it because we're at the top of the mafia world, and every powerful player attends. The event's a twisted game, filled with brutal competitions where losers are forced to hurt their dates, sometimes even kill them if the winners demand it. Refusing is a death sentence for both parties.

"And where do you expect me to find a girl?" I asked, annoyance lacing my voice.

He laughed, a cold, heartless sound. "You have plenty of sluts at your disposal. Don't forget who you are, Noah."

The way he talked about women made my blood boil. He was a monster—raping, murdering, and discarding them as if they were nothing.

"I'll handle it," I replied curtly before hanging up.

Frustrated, I stormed out of the mansion, waiting for Daniel and Rowan to join me. We were heading to the company, where the cells were located in the basement. Daniel and Rowan had been with me since we were kids. They were a year younger, but they followed my orders without question. It worked for us.

As we walked out, Andrew, my chauffeur, pulled the black SUV up to the front. Andrew had been with me from the start, a steady presence in my life when everything else felt unstable.

"Good morning, Don," Andrew greeted me, opening the car door.

"Morning, Andrew," I nodded, appreciating his loyalty more than I ever could my father's.

Once inside the SUV, Andrew asked, "Where to, Don?"

"I need coffee first," I began, but Rowan interrupted.

"I didn't have breakfast, so let's grab something to eat," he suggested, his tone too casual for my liking.

I shot him a glare. "Cut me off again, and I'll make you eat your words—literally."

"Sorry, Don," he muttered, clearly irritated but not daring to challenge me.

Rowan was strong and loyal, but he could be immature at times. Daniel, on the other hand, was the more level-headed of the two.

"Andrew, take us to a café near the base," I ordered.

"There's a bakery in town I usually stop at for breakfast after dropping you off, sir. Is that alright?" Andrew asked.

"Fine," I replied, not really caring as long as I got my coffee.

The drive was filled with the chatter of Daniel and Rowan discussing their food choices, which only added to my annoyance. I focused on answering emails, trying to tune them out.

We finally arrived at the bakery. It was a simple place—not flashy, but charming in its own way. The kind of place that felt real. I stepped out of the car, with Daniel and Rowan following close behind.

As we entered, my gaze was immediately drawn to a girl sitting at a wooden table, her attention on the notebooks spread before her. She had crystal blue eyes, the kind that could pull you in and make you forget everything. Her ginger-red hair fell in perfect curls around her face, and her fair skin gave her an ethereal glow. What the fuck? Why am I staring at her?

She met my gaze, holding it for a brief, intense moment.

"Do you work here?" I asked, clearing my throat.

Before she could answer, a blue-haired girl from across the bakery piped up, "Yes, sir, how can I help you?"

Just then, Andrew walked in, and the redhead's face lit up with a smile.

"Andrew!" she exclaimed, hopping up from her seat, dimples forming on her cheeks.

"Hello, Isabella," Andrew greeted her warmly, grinning.

Interesting.

"Glad to see you're doing well," she said, her voice soft but bright.

Before they could continue, Rowan interrupted, "If you're done catching up, can I see a menu?"

Isabella rolled her eyes but handed over the menu without a word. She had to be about 5'11"—tall, confident, and clearly unimpressed by Rowan.

"I'll have two croissants, a cupcake, and some orange juice," Rowan declared loudly to the blue-haired girl.

"I'll take whatever you recommend, Isabella," Daniel added, his tone a bit too flirtatious for my liking.

"Try the muffins—they're really good," she suggested with a polite smile.

"They can't be better than you," Daniel shot back with a grin, making me roll my eyes in disgust.

Isabella didn't respond. Instead, she walked to the kitchen door. The blue-haired girl's face paled, and she stuttered, "You... you picked the wrong time to flirt."

Before I could process what that meant, Isabella returned with a pie, whipped cream piled on top. Without hesitation, she smashed it right into Daniel's face.The room erupted in laughter—everyone except me, Daniel, and Isabella. If I weren't so damn hardened, I might have laughed too.

Rowan swiped some cream from Daniel's face and licked it. "Damn, that's sweet," he said, still laughing.

Isabella didn't flinch in the presence of three muscular men. She wasn't scared, and she sure as hell wasn't interested in playing nice. Most girls either flirt or tremble around us, but she was different. And that made her dangerous.