Emmy's life is going just as she'd planned: She's living in her own apartment, dancing every day and is just leaps away from being named her company's next Prima ballerina. And she's only 17. But all of Emmy's plans come to a screeching halt when the FBI shows up at her door to let her know that she's being stalked by a serial killer. Suddenly, the safe, insulated world she created for herself is riddled with violence, fear...and a growing pile of dead bodies. At first Emmy wants nothing more than to forget her chilling new reality - but her admirer isn't finished with her yet, and before she knows it, Emmy's stuck in a nightmare she can't dance her way out of. Content and/or trigger warning: This story contains detailed scenes of murder, rape, torture, sex and stalking, which may be triggering for some readers. [[word count: 80,000-90,000 words]]

❝𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐭, 𝚴𝐞𝐫𝐨.❞ A shudder ran down Nero's spine as she watched the man before her lean back against his office chair, spread his bulky thighs, and tip his head back as he watched her with those sultry eyes of his. She knew it was wrong to want him, that wanting him would only bring her trouble, yet she found her mouth salivating at the mere sight of him. It was unfair how attractive he was. "Why? You didn't let me cum yesterday." His eyebrow twitched, the corner of his lips tipping in amusement. "Only good girls get to cum, diavolina." ❦ It was never Nero Rothschild's intention to find herself as the central figure in every fantasy of the don of the most influential and dangerous mafia in New York. Especially when said man also happened to be Niccolò Lyon, the rival of the Lucchese family she was forced to work for. After generations of conflict, the two mafias had finally settled their issues by arranging the marriage of Niccolò Lyon with the cousin of the Lucchese heir-a marriage that would save thousands of lives from dying in the meaningless war. Everyone knew the importance of the marriage, understanding what it meant for the future of the underworld. Everyone but Niccolò, it seemed. The day Niccolò Lyon saw Nero Rothschild, he knew he had to have her, to possess her. He found himself pining after her attention, her touch, and her lips. He knew he was wrong to want the girl so badly. She had already been claimed by his rival despite wanting nothing to do with the lovesick man. The fact only made Niccolò desire the little devil even more, especially when he found out that the Lucchese family had gone against their promise of peace by hiring her to coldheartedly murder him. He needed to have her, to make her his, and to own her. Fiancée be damned.