Chapter 2: The Aftermath of a Reckless Night
615 Words
The scent of expensive cologne and faint traces of whiskey lingered in the air. Sunlight streamed through the massive windows, casting golden streaks across silk sheets.
Serena’s eyes fluttered open.
Her body ached in places she hadn’t felt in years—a reminder of the reckless choices she made last night. The memories hit her all at once.
Alessandro.
The bar.
His lips.
His hands.
His body against hers.
Her breath hitched.
She sat up abruptly, clutching the sheets around her naked body. The penthouse was silent, almost eerily so. The space beside her was cold.
He was gone.
Of course, he was.
What did she expect? Breakfast in bed? A love note?
Get a grip, Serena.
Her clothes lay scattered across the floor, and she hurriedly dressed, ignoring the phantom sensation of his touch still lingering on her skin.
No names. No promises. That was the deal.
And yet, as she slipped out of the penthouse and stepped into the cold morning air, a strange feeling gnawed at her chest—one she couldn’t shake.
Something told her this wasn’t over.
Meanwhile…
Sandro De Luca leaned against the railing of his private balcony, a cigarette dangling between his fingers. Smoke curled in the crisp morning air as he exhaled slowly, his jaw tense.
He hadn’t meant to leave her.
The moment his phone started ringing at dawn, he knew his brief escape was over. He had a family meeting—one he couldn’t ignore.
The second he stepped inside the De Luca estate, the suffocating weight of his name crashed down on him again.
Dante was waiting.
His older brother sat behind their father’s grand oak desk, fingers steepled together, expression unreadable.
“You took your time coming back,” Dante remarked.
Sandro flicked ashes onto the floor. “Didn’t realize I had a curfew.”
Dante smirked. “Still reckless, I see. You’ve barely been back a week, and already you’re making a mess of things.”
Sandro’s jaw clenched. “If this is about Bianca, I don’t—”
“This isn’t about Bianca.” Dante’s voice sharpened. “This is about you. You were exiled for a reason, Sandro. Do you think just because Father is stepping down soon, you can waltz back in and take what isn’t yours?”
Sandro’s lips curled into a smirk, but his grip on the cigarette tightened. “Sounds like you’re worried, brother.”
Dante stood, rounding the desk to face him. “I don’t need to be worried. You’re an illegitimate son. No matter what you do, you’ll never be the rightful heir. You should be grateful I let you come back at all.”
The room crackled with tension.
Sandro had spent his whole life being reminded of his place—of the fact that he wasn’t born from the same mother as Dante. That he was an outsider, no matter how much blood they shared.
But he had never wanted the empire. Not until now.
Not until Dante reminded him that he could never have it.
Elsewhere…
Serena sighed as she counted the last of her savings.
Rent was due in two weeks. No job. No backup plan.
She groaned, flopping onto her bed. Perfect.
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown Number: You should have stayed away from him.
Her blood turned to ice.
She sat up, heart hammering.
Who the hell—?
The next message came instantly.
This is your only warning.
Her hands shook. Every instinct in her body screamed danger.
But what scared her more than the threat…
Was the fact that she already knew exactly who him was.
Alessandro De Luca.
And she had just made herself a target.
- Writer
