To save her family from financial ruin, Elena Romano is forced into an arranged marriage with the most feared man in New York's underworld-Luca Moretti, a ruthless mafia boss. What begins as a cold, loveless union soon transforms as Elena discovers...
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"Well, hello, Elena." His voice was a slow drag of velvet over steel—smooth, controlled, and laced with something dark beneath the surface. The sheer command in his tone sent a sharp shiver down my spine, freezing me in place. It was unlike anything I'd ever heard—calm yet lethal, each syllable rolling off his tongue with an infuriating precision like he knew exactly how easily he could pull me into his orbit.
Oh, hell. His voice was too nice. Too dangerous. Too consuming.
I clenched my fists and forced a breath, shaking my head to break free from the hold he didn't even try to cast.
Now wasn't the time to get distracted by a silver tongue and a pretty face. I knew exactly who Luca was—or at least, I thought I did. He wasn't just some smooth talker with a lethal charm. He was the man my father had been warning me about for weeks. The one I was supposed to avoid at all costs.
Yet, as his gaze locked onto mine, a slow, knowing smirk tugging at his lips, I realized something—Luca wasn't just a threat. He was a storm waiting to happen, and I had just stepped into the eye of it.
His gaze locked onto mine, sharp and assessing, as if he could peel back my carefully constructed walls with a single look. I extended my hand, forcing a mask of composure even as my pulse betrayed me, hammering against my ribs. His presence was overwhelming—a stifling weight that pressed down on me, suffocating yet inexplicably soothing all at once.
Luca didn't just take my hand; he claimed it. His fingers wrapped around mine, firm, possessive, like he had no intention of letting go. Heat licked up my spine, pooling low in my stomach, but I steeled myself, refusing to let him see just how deeply he affected me.
"Hello, Luca. I'm Elena Romano. How are you?" My voice remained steady—an achievement I clung to, even as my fingers betrayed me with the faintest tremor.
Luca took my hand, his grip warm and unwavering. Firm. Commanding. Not crushing, not cruel—just absolute. A quiet possession laced into the simple act, as if he did not need to prove control because it was already his. His thumb brushed over my skin, deliberate, lingering.
"I'm good, darling. And you?" His voice curled around me like a slow-burning flame—silken and deliberate, each syllable a caress that seeped beneath my skin, igniting something dangerous.
A shiver ran down my spine, subtle but undeniable. I barely managed a nod, terrified that if I dared to speak, my voice would crack under the weight of his presence, exposing the havoc he so effortlessly wreaked on my self-control.
Before I could even begin to unpack the sudden rush of emotions swirling inside me, my father walked in, that same hollow, practiced smile plastered across his face—the one I knew all too well, the smile that concealed a thousand lies and betrayals.
"Let's get dinner, shall we?" His voice was smooth, like velvet over a razor blade, laced with a politeness that was anything but genuine. He gestured toward the dining room with a flourish, the air between us thick with unspoken words. I moved forward, but my every step felt like an act. Luca's presence at my side was a quiet anchor, his posture rigid, unwavering—unwilling to let me go through this alone.
