His Wicked Temptation

Prologue

✈︎

rêveuse
(m.) dreamer

ROSABELLE DE LUCA

Sitting across from my father's office on the couch, I stared at him with an apparent frown on my face while he worked behind his desk, or pretended to do so.

"Papa," I called out for the seventh time, and he looked up at me from behind his glasses. Tilting his head slightly, he responded with rather indifference. "Yes?"

"Why are you not listening to me?" I huffed out, growing more frustrated with each passing second. "I'm well aware of what you're saying, cara."

"Then why are you not responding?"

"My response wouldn't change my statement."

"Why? What's wrong with you? Don't treat me like a kid, papa."

Dad rubbed his temple, probably trying to maintain his calm composure. But I'm a de Luca, and I can be as persuasive as my father can be reluctant. "I do treat you like a kid, Rosabelle. And this is why you've traveled almost half of the world when you're merely twenty."

"Then why not Russia?" I went for the same question I'd been asking for hours and only getting sighs in response instead of an actual answer. "God, why don't you understand, cara?"

"Because you're not making me understand, papa," I said softly, nearly on the verge of crying. One could call me dramatic, and I know I am. I get emotional easily, and it's not my fault.

His gaze softened upon seeing my expression. With a sigh, dad stood up from his chair and made his way toward me. Taking the seat beside me, he made me turn to face him by resting his gentle hands on my shoulders. Worry reflected in his eyes as he stared at me in silence.

I respect my dad's decisions, really. He would never want bad for me, and he only does what is good for me.

However, traveling to Russia had been my most desired dream since I turned twelve and found out that Russia was the biggest country in the world.

I liked big things.

And I wanted to travel to Russia at least once in my lifetime. But dad wasn't letting me; he said I could fly to any country but that one.

What's wrong with that one?

"Have you ever heard of the Bratva?" Dad suddenly asked, leaving me confused for a moment before I shook my head in response. "They're the biggest crime syndicate in Russia. Some of them live in other countries, but their empire is built in Russia. And," He cleared his throat before continuing, "We don't have good relations with them."

Enemies? I expected that much between the Italian Mafia and the Bratva.

"Are they more influential than us?" I asked, grasping onto the last piece of hope.

I didn't know much about my family's business, but I was aware of the fact that the de Luca family was the strongest among the Chicago Outfit. Other than that I knew nothing, and I was happy with that information.

Ignorance is bliss, after all.

"They're equal," Dad responded, and a sigh of dissatisfaction left me. "I could let you go if I want to, and I could even keep you safe there. But, cara, I don't want them to have the tiniest chance to take advantage of my weakness. You're my only daughter, Bella."

My shoulders slumped, feeling defeated. "Is there no way for me then?" I couldn't digest the fact that the wish I'd harbored for nearly a decade was getting shattered like this.

"Is this how badly you want to visit Russia?" Dad asked, slightly smiling at my disappointment. I looked up at him, nodding my head slowly.

I never wished to visit a country as much as Russia, and I'm not even joking. I had taken one look at Moscow, and the country just hooked me.

Just like that.

Dad sighed again, seemingly reconsidering his decision. I stared with eager eyes, hoping, knowing that my dad would understand my feelings.

"Fine," he finally said after a long pause. I looked at him with wide eyes, a bright smile spreading across my face. "Dici sul serio, papà?" I nearly squeaked, jumping up in my seat as he nodded, chuckling slightly.

"Yes. If my daughter is that insistent, what can I do?" I grinned, hugging him tightly as a rush of happiness washed over me.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you so much, papa!"

"Yes, yes, you're most welcome. But," Dad turned serious once again. But I still kept smiling so wide that my cheeks started to hurt. "I have a few conditions for you, and you-"

"What conditions? I agree to any conditions my dearest papa asks for!" I exclaimed without a second guess, never caring enough about his serious expression. Because I know that I'd do anything my dad says now.

"I'm serious, Bella."

"So am I. Spill it out, papa."

He stood up again and made his way toward his usual place, the desk. After getting comfortable in his own seat, he placed his gaze on me. "Firstly, you can stay there for four weeks," he stated.

"Enough time." I smiled. "Secondly, you're going to keep a tracker with yourself."

"Agreeable."

"Thirdly, you're going to pick up your phone anytime I call you. If you don't, I'll send my men to escort you back to Chicago, even if your four weeks are not completed, and you cannot whine about that. Am I understood, Bella?" He asked, his voice deadly serious.

Honestly, to say, this one was a little hard. But I'll comply anyway. "Yes," I replied.

"Good. And last but not least, don't fall for a Russian man." I nearly choked on my breath hearing those words. "What?" I looked for any hint of sarcasm on my father's face, but I couldn't decipher any. So I laughed on my own. "That's the most hilarious thing you've ever said."

"I assure you, I'm not joking, cara."

"Okay, okay," I couldn't help laughing again, "I get it. I won't fall head over heels for any Russian man."

The worry my father had for me was still visible, but he tried not to show it when he smiled slightly. "You can go now. Your flight is next week."

"I promise I'll be careful, papa," I said, hoping his worry would ease a little. Dad nodded, relieved a little. "I know."

I almost jumped in surprise finding my brother right in my face after I left my father's office. Placing my hand above my chest, I glared at him, clearly offended by his eavesdropping.

"Rafe, that was not funny at all," I said when Rafael grinned, leaning against the doorframe. Mischief glinted underneath his ocean blue eyes that were akin to mine.

"So, my baby sister finally got permission to travel to Russia after whining about it so much?" He mused, chuckling when I slapped his arm.

"I didn't whine about it," Seriously, such extravagant words. Then I smirked, and his wicked grin faltered slightly at that. "But I guess you're not the only favorite child."

"Shut up, we all know it's Rome who's the favorite child," He chirped right when he noticed Romario coming our way, his long strides slowing to glance sideways at us.

But then my eldest brother only rolled his eyes at Rafe's remark before disappearing behind the door of my father's office.

"Neh, that's true as heck. Dad looks at him like Rome is his knight in shining armor." I nodded my head at Rafe in agreement as a satisfied smile appeared across his face.

Both of us kept goofing around for a while until Rome and dad came out of the room and decided to shush us away themselves.

And the next week, I boarded the plane to Moscow.

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