bound by the mafia king

The night smelled of danger. Elena Rossi adjusted her silver dress nervously, her father’s hand gripping her wrist as they entered the mansion. The chandeliers sparkled like diamonds, but the air was suffocating, heavy with power. At the end of the long marble hall, he sat. Adrian Moretti. The Devil of New York. The man whispered about in every dark corner of the city. His black suit hugged his broad shoulders, his sharp jawline carved like stone, and his cold gray eyes locked on her the second she entered. Elena’s heart stumbled. “Why… why are we here, Papa?” she whispered. Her father’s voice cracked. “Because, Elena… our debt must be paid.” Adrian stood, slow and deliberate. The room fell silent. His presence was a storm—danger wrapped in perfection. “Rossi,” Adrian’s voice was silk laced with steel. “Do you have what belongs to me?” Her father swallowed hard. “I… I bring you my daughter.” Elena froze. What? Adrian’s eyes narrowed, scanning her from head to toe like a predator examining his prey. He reached for a glass of wine, his lips curving into the faintest smirk. “Interesting,” he murmured. “So this is how you repay me? With innocence wrapped in satin?” Elena’s breath hitched, fury burning inside her fear. “I’m not some… object you can claim!” For the first time, Adrian’s gaze truly locked with hers—cold, dangerous, but with a flicker of something else. Something unspoken. He stepped closer, so close she could smell his intoxicating cologne, the scent of power and sin. His hand brushed her jaw, tilting her face up. “You’re wrong, princess,” he whispered darkly. “From this moment on… you belong to me.” Her eyes widened in horror as the room erupted in whispers. And just like that, Elena’s life was no longer hers.