"Nobody is allowed between these pretty little thighs but me....and if anyone tries...𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦."
~
They call him The King-a ghost who rules the world's most powerful mafia from the shadows. No face. No mercy. No mistakes.
And beside...
-"How can it be that my memories are more alive than I am?"-
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Kaia stood underneath the shower in the harsh glow of her bathroom in her private office, scrubbing dried blood from her knuckles beneath the scalding stream of water.
The crimson swirled downward, spiraling in red ribbons around the drain—echoing memories she'd rather forget. The pain didn't disturb her anymore; it was merely familiar, an old friend whose embrace reminded her she was still alive.
The door creaked open gently, bringing with it the unmistakable scent of cherries and sandalwood. Kaia didn't glance up or move the glass shower door—she knew exactly who had entered.
Ida leaned casually against the sink, arms crossed, after she set down clean towels for Kaia. A playful smirk danced at the edge of her vivid lips. Her flame-red hair cascaded down her shoulders in waves, vibrant against her pale, freckled skin.
The Right Hand's naked body moved underneath the hot water, her figure barely visible with how much the glass doors fogged over. Ida stood just a few feet away from the door, laying out Kaia's clean clothes.
"So," Ida drawled, voice dripping with casual amusement, "what do we think of our new guests? Suspicious, dangerous, or worth a glance?"
Kaia moved under the showerhead, weaving soap through her hair.
"Too soon to tell," Kaia murmured coolly.
Ida pursed her lips, a sly gleam in her eyes. She knew better than to push further, especially with Kaia. But she couldn't help herself entirely.
"Oh, come on," Ida teased lightly, grinning wickedly. "You noticed how Romano looked at you—like you were a masterpiece he couldn't quite afford. Which is saying something, considering the man's basically a Greek god."
Kaia's expression remained unreadable, but inwardly she faltered at the memory of Luca's dark gaze. Even she couldn't deny that his presence was magnetic, almost godly, demanding attention and reverence without speaking a single word. Her eyes closed as hot water fell over her face.
"I threaten him. That's all," Kaia spoke, her raspy voice clear and reverberating.
Luca Romano-Xanthos.
The Judge.
Goldblood.
The Ghost King.
Those stormy grey eyes had pierced through her, swirling with mystery—cryptic yet electric, sparking like thunderclouds threatening to unleash chaos. The memory of his sun-kissed skin, perfectly bronzed as if lovingly painted by the Mediterranean sun itself, replayed in her mind. His face's chiseled angles, impossibly sharp jawline, and tempting, full lips seemed unfairly sculpted to test her resolve.
