In a world where loyalty is everything and betrayal means death, love is a dangerous game. Two souls from opposite ends of the mafia underworld cross paths.
#1 in seducing
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Isabella's POV
The rain outside pelted the windows relentlessly, casting a dull, steady rhythm against the glass. Inside my Manhattan apartment, the world was still, calm, as if the storm outside couldn't touch this space.
I stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, watching the city blur under the weight of the downpour, lights flickering and smearing across wet streets. It was nights like these that I both loved and hated—quiet, reflective, but never truly peaceful.
Silence in my life often meant something was coming.
Sofia had called not long ago, her voice bubbling with excitement about some exclusive party we were attending tonight.
I hadn't wanted to go at first. Not because I didn't enjoy the scene—I did—but because tonight, my mind had been drifting into dangerous territories. My father's plans, the Romano family, and the looming storm I couldn't ignore.
But that wasn't going to stop me from living my life. If I let it, it would consume me.
I turned away from the window and walked into my bedroom, flipping the lights on softly. The space was large but minimalistic, decorated with clean lines, dark wood, and plush fabrics. It was more for function than comfort, but it was mine.
The closet doors slid open with a whisper, revealing rows of neatly hung clothes, shoes lined up on the floor beneath.
I skimmed through the fabrics, fingers trailing over silk, leather, and lace. I needed something that struck the right balance tonight—something powerful but not too loud, something that said I was in control.
My hand landed on a sleek black dress, the material cool and smooth between my fingers. It was form-fitting, hugging my body in all the right places, but subtle enough to avoid screaming for attention. It was perfect.
I draped it across the bed and stepped into the bathroom, the cool marble floor sending a shiver up my spine.
The lights in the bathroom were soft, casting a warm glow over the countertop as I leaned in closer to the mirror.
My reflection stared back at me—a face I knew so well, but sometimes felt disconnected from. Dark, wavy hair that reached my lower back, sharp cheekbones, eyes that could cut through anyone's lies if I needed them to.
But tonight, I wasn't going to be that version of Isabella. Tonight, I wanted to be the version of myself that didn't have the weight of my father's empire on her shoulders.
I started with my makeup, carefully applying foundation, blending it to perfection.
My eyes needed to be sharp but not overdone—dark eyeliner to define, lashes thickened with mascara, and a hint of brown on my lids, My lips I kept simple, a dark nude, enough to stand out but not overpower.
