OWED BY THE ENEMY

THE GALA

SERAFINA

It had been two weeks since that night. Two frustrating weeks. Two weeks of unanswered questions. Two weeks were spent wondering how he had anticipated the shot. 2 weeks of hating herself for thinking about him. Serafina sat in the backseat of a black armored truck as the DeLuca convoy drove into darkness.

A queue of luxury cars transporting some of the world's most dangerous people stretched out in front of them. Tonight was not a typical gathering. It was the annual Peace Treaty Gala. The world's five most prominent crime families attended the dinner. The De Lucas, the Sokolov family, the Falcons, Petrov, and Gallo. Families whose power spanned continents.

The event had been around for about thirty years, and bloodshed was the starting point. There was a lot of chaos in the criminal underground before the treaty; organizational wars broke out regularly, and territories changed hands overnight. Entire operations failed because powerful families focused on attacking one another rather than creating money.

The final breaking point occurred following the horrific conflict known as the Black Winter. A bloody war that killed hundreds and cost every major group millions. No family really won. Everyone lost. In the aftermath, the five governing families came to an extraordinary agreement. The agreement brought about peace, or at least the illusion of it.

Every year, families gather on neutral grounds to discuss alliances, territories, commercial endeavors, and disagreements before they escalate to war. The accord did not abolish violence. Nothing ever could. However, it prevented the world's criminal empires from tearing each other apart. The Sokolovs were responsible for hosting this year. This arrangement means the gala will be held within Europe's most tightly secured estate.

As the convoy approached the big iron gates, Serafina fixed her focus on the sprawling estate beyond. Floodlights lit up the fortress-like estate. Armed soldiers monitored each entrance. Luxury vehicles lined the circular driveway—power, wealth, and influence. The Sokolovs showed all three without apology.

The gates opened slowly, and for the first time that evening, Serafina felt a familiar sense of dread. Because somewhere inside that mansion waited Nikolai Sokolov.

NIKOLIA

And at that same moment, Nikolai was standing at the top of the enormous staircase staring down into the ballroom. The event was in full swing, with crystal chandeliers illuminating the magnificent hall. Champagne flowed like water. There was music in the room. Politicians, merchants, and criminals were all gathered under one roof, each pretending not to be surrounded by some of the most dangerous people on earth.

Nikolai straightened the cuff of his black suit. Customized to perfection. The suit was costly, perfect, and a necessary uniform for events like these. He looked every bit like the heir to the Sokolov empire. Tall, broad-shouldered, and powerfully built. Dark hair combed back with a curly strand hanging off his forehead neatly. His strong jaw line and piercing blue eyes gave him an intimidating presence that few men could match. The suit just topped it.

Unfortunately, women noticed they always do. Nikolai couldn't remember a moment when they didn't. People always watch him. Moscow, London, New York, and Dubai. It didn't matter. The attention started the minute people knew his name. His looks drew some people in. Others craved the power that accompanied it. Most wanted them both.

Tonight was like the rest. A blonde socialite laughed a little too loudly at something he hadn’t really spoken. The senator's daughter gazed freely across the room. Another woman passed by, brushing against his arm, and lingered longer than necessary. Nikolai took no notice of them. It was not flattering attention. It was tiring. The Peace Treaty Gala was particularly exhausting.

The event brought the same annoying custom every year. Matchmaking. Every aspiring family with an unwed daughter suddenly took an interest in introductions. Dinners, business partnerships. Possible engagements and proposals come up every year. He felt like a prize stallion on display for potential buyers. His mother found it amusing, and his grandfather felt it was necessary. Nikolai couldn’t tolerate it. Marriage is a business transaction and nothing more. Most people romanticize the concept of marriage. He liked facts. A woman came up to him, a rehearsed smile on her lips already. Instead, Nikolai turned his eyes to the ballroom entrance.

The De Luca convoy finally arrived. For the first time that evening, something far more intriguing than matchmaking entered the room.

The ballroom doors opened, and conversation slowed. Heads turned. Nikolai's gaze followed the movement instinctively. Then it stopped. Serafina De Luca walked into the room.

For a brief time, the entire ballroom appeared to blend into the background. She moved with casual ease, as if she belonged right where she was. Maybe she did. She was mafia royalty, after all. The daughter of Lorenzo De Luca. The princess of one of the world's most powerful crime families. Tonight, she embodied the role.

His jaw nearly dropped when Serafina entered the event. Her dress was outrageously low cut, showing off the curves of her luscious body. Her dress had been daringly cut up to her waist in the back, revealing her exquisite sun-kissed flesh. “f**k,” Nikolia whispered under his breath, taking in the sight, unable to look away from her gorgeous naked back.

The deep neckline at the front showcased her ample cleavage, teasingly hinting at her voluptuous chest. A high split on the side of the gown revealed a tantalizing sight of her toned thighs and legs with each movement, sending Nikolia's imagination racing.

The way the gown clung to her hips and ass highlighted her curves flawlessly, as if it were designed specifically for her figure. "Damn," Nikolia said, momentarily distracted from her magnificent beauty.

Her dark hair tumbled in loose curls over one shoulder, making a stunning contrast with her skin—a risky dress for a dangerous woman. The ballroom lights revealed tiny golden hues buried among the darker threads. Nikolai was drawn to her, but not by her clothes. It was her eyes. Amber. Sharp. Defiant. Even from across the room, he could see the challenge burning within them. Most ladies would feel intimidated in a room full of powerful criminals. Serafina appeared to be selecting which of them to shoot first. The corner of his lips rose. There she was. His favorite assassin. She was the lady who had attempted to kill him two weeks prior. The woman continued to look at him as if she wanted to finish the job.

Several men were staring openly, while others were less subtle. His mood immediately darkened. Nikolai counted them up. For some reason, he refused to examine it too closely,

In her amber eyes across the room, Nikolai saw the same hatred burning. The same hatred that had made her pull the trigger two weeks before. Most people feared him. Serafina De Luca wanted him killed. It was that, oddly, that made her impossible to ignore.

Strangely enough, that made her impossible to ignore. Her demeanor was precisely why Nikolai had chosen to ignore her. At least that was the plan. He welcomed Chat, shook hands, exchanged pleasantries with politicians and crime bosses, and discussed shipments, regions, and investments. He pretended Serafina De Luca was not there on the other side of the ballroom.

It should have been easy. Nikolai had achieved self-control years before. Emotions are weaknesses, distractions, and liabilities. But every few minutes, his attention returned to her. It was as if he were compelled by something beyond logic. She was now standing next to her father, speaking with another family member. Elegant, Composed, Dangerous. Despite the presence of powerful men, she commanded attention effortlessly.

The entire room took notice of her. Nikolai observed everyone who looked at her. His expression was unchanged. Across the ballroom, Serafina chuckled at something one of her cousins said. The sound never reached him. But he found himself watching anyway. The way a predator observes movement in the distance. Serafina stared at him several times during the evening, and every time she acted astonished. He was already observing her when their eyes met. Not casually and not by chance. Darkly and intently, like the way a wolf could look at something passing through its territory.

The first time, she frowned. Her shoulders became considerably stiffer the second time. By the third, annoyance was visible on her face.

Good.

He preferred that she be upset. Her anger seemed natural and safer than curiosity. Even from across the floor, Nikolai could sense the tension between them. A silent struggle is raging beneath the gala's gleaming surface. Neither of them approached nor spoke.

I watched her from across the ballroom, jaw clenched so tight it ached.

Her curves in that black dress, the swell of her breasts, and the slit in the skirt that exposed her pale thighs with every step she took were driving him insane. She moved like she knew exactly what she was doing to every man in the room, especially me. My c**k had been throbbing since the moment she walked in, thick and insistent against the front of my trousers. I wanted to drag her into the nearest dark corner, shove that dress up around her waist, and f**k her until she forgot how to hate me.

Instead, I had to stand here, surrounded by sycophants and rivals, pretending I wasn’t going crazy over one woman.

The need gnawed at me. Dark. Ugly. Merciless. I couldn't have Serafina, not yet, but I needed an outlet before I did something stupid.

I caught the eye of one of the Petrov daughters, the blonde I’d used before when the itch got too sharp. She was pretty enough; she was eager enough; she knew the rules. She followed me out of the ballroom without a word after I gave her one look.

We ended up in a private study down the hall. The second the door closed, I had her on her knees. She went willingly, her practiced fingers already reaching for my belt.

"Quick," I muttered, my voice rough.

She freed me and took me into her mouth without hesitation. Wet heat surrounded me, her tongue working the underside as she sucked. I gripped her hair, not gently, and started f*****g her throat in short, brutal thrusts.

Every time I closed my eyes, it was Serafina’s mouth and tongue on me. The image of her in that f*****g dress burned behind my eyelids—the way the silk would tear so easily, the way she’d fight me at first and then melt when I forced her to take every inch.

I came hard down the blonde’s throat with a low, vicious groan, hips jerking as I held her in place. She swallowed everything like the submissive little diversion she was, but my eyes and thoughts were fixed on the woman I truly desired because she was standing at the study door, staring at me with red cheeks mixed with disgust.