6000 days waiting for Melina

MELINA’S POV The closer we got to the gala venue, the tighter the knot in my stomach became. Outside the tinted window, Los Angeles glittered like a city that had never known suffering. Towering buildings bathed in gold light stretched across the night while expensive cars lined the entrance ahead of us. Everything looked beautiful. Beautiful things were always the most dangerous. “Remember the plan,” my uncle said quietly beside me. I kept my eyes on the crowd outside. “I know.” His gaze lingered on me for a moment longer. “You only get one chance at this, Melina.” My fingers curled slowly against the black silk of my dress. One chance. That was all I had left. If tonight failed, I was dead. Not immediately. Not publicly. Men like the ones hunting me preferred patience. They liked fear first. Suffering second. Death came last. Always. My uncle adjusted the cuffs of his suit before the car finally stopped at the entrance of the gala. “Once we walk in there,” he said calmly, “you are not my niece. You are simply my business partner.” I nodded once. That was how it had always been. To the world, my uncle was the respected CEO managing my late father’s companies after his death. But the truth was far uglier. The real power behind every deal, every shipment, every hidden account and underground operation had been me for years. Nobody suspected it. That was exactly why I was still alive. The driver opened the car door. Flashlights exploded instantly. Cameras. Reporters. We stepped out together, and immediately the noise around us shifted. People greeted my uncle respectfully as we walked into the grand ballroom, their smiles polished and fake beneath the glow of crystal chandeliers. “Mr. De Luca.” “Good evening, sir.” “It’s an honor to see you again.” My uncle acknowledged them smoothly while I walked beside him in silence. The gala was drowning in wealth. Diamonds sparkled beneath soft lights. Expensive perfume filled the air. Women laughed too loudly while men discussed money, politics, and power behind careful smiles. But beneath all of it, I could feel it. Danger. Every powerful person in this room had blood on their hands. Including me. “Relax your shoulders,” my uncle murmured without looking at me. I forced my body to loosen slightly. Years of training had taught me how to hide fear well. Tonight, however, fear refused to stay buried. Because somewhere inside this building was the man people feared more than death itself. Don Ken. My final option. My uncle suddenly slowed beside me. People ahead were moving differently now, quieter, more cautious, creating invisible space around someone standing near the center of the room. I followed their gaze. And saw him. For one dangerous second, my entire body went still. He stood surrounded by powerful men, yet somehow looked completely untouched by them. Tall. Broad shoulders hidden beneath a perfectly tailored black suit. Cold dark eyes. The kind of face that belonged on magazine covers and crime reports at the same time. Power rolled off him so naturally it made the air around him feel heavier. This was not just a rich man. This was the kind of man who could ruin lives with a sentence. As if sensing my stare, his eyes lifted. And landed directly on me. The breath caught painfully in my throat. Something about the way he looked at me felt wrong. Not lust. Not curiosity. Recognition. My uncle stepped forward first. “Don Ken.” Several men around him immediately straightened respectfully. The Don’s gaze finally shifted toward my uncle, though I could still feel traces of it lingering on me. “Mr. De Luca,” he greeted calmly. Up close, his voice was worse. It was smooth, controlled and dangerous. My uncle smiled politely. “I’d like to introduce my niece and business associate, Melina.” Silence. The Don’s eyes returned to me slowly. “Melina,” he repeated. The way he said my name sent something uneasy through my chest. Like he was testing how it sounded after years of silence. His expression barely changed, but I noticed the pause. That tiny hesitation. I noticed everything. “Have we met before?” I asked carefully. For a long moment, he simply stared at me. Then he answered quietly, “If I had met you before, I would remember.” Something about the response unsettled me more than if he had admitted the truth. I forced a faint smile anyway. Unpredictable men were dangerous, but they were easier to study when they underestimated you. “I was hoping we could speak privately,” I said. Several men nearby immediately exchanged glances. Nobody requested private meetings with Don Ken casually. The silence stretched. One second. Two. Three. Then finally, he nodded once. “Fine.” My uncle exhaled subtly beside me. The Don gestured toward a hallway away from the ballroom, and I followed him while dozens of curious eyes tracked our movements. The moment we entered the private corridor, the noise from the gala dimmed significantly. Now it was only the two of us. This was it. No mistakes. No fear. I had spent years surviving monsters far worse than wealthy men in expensive suits. I could survive this too. The Don stopped near a private lounge and turned toward me fully. His gaze swept over me slowly, not with hunger, but calculation. It somehow felt worse. “What business do you have with me?” he asked calmly. Straight to the point. No games Fine. I could do that too. I stepped closer deliberately, letting my fingers brush lightly against his suit jacket. Any other man would have reacted immediately. He didn’t move at all. “I need your help,” I said softly. Still nothing. No visible interest. No distraction. Those dark eyes simply remained fixed on mine like he was waiting for the real conversation to begin. So I pushed harder. I placed my hand against his chest slowly. “In exchange,” I whispered, “you can have me.” That finally changed something. Not desire. Coldness. The temperature around him seemed to drop instantly. His eyes became sharp enough to cut through skin. The confidence I walked in with suddenly felt fragile beneath that stare. “I can have any woman I want,” he said quietly. Every instinct inside me screamed danger now. “Then why,” he continued, voice colder, “would I bother with one who throws herself at men?” The words struck harder than they should have. Because he wasn’t entirely wrong. For years, survival had taught me exactly how useful beauty could become. Men underestimated attractive women. Desired women. Pitied women. I had weaponized that weakness over and over again. But standing in front of him now, I suddenly felt stripped bare in a way I hated. Still, I lifted my chin. “You don’t understand—” Suddenly, screams erupted outside. The music inside the ballroom cut off instantly. People started shouting. Glass shattered somewhere nearby. My blood ran cold immediately. No. No no no—“They’re here,” I whispered. The Don’s expression sharpened instantly. “Who?” My breathing turned uneven as panic slammed violently into me. I grabbed his arm tightly without thinking. “The assassins.” The words came out shakier than I wanted. Outside, more screaming echoed through the building. My heart pounded violently now. They found me. Again. I looked up at him desperately, fear finally breaking through the walls I spent years building. “I need your help,” I said quietly. “Please.” For the first time since meeting him, something unreadable flickered across his face. I stepped even closer instinctively. “In exchange,” I whispered urgently, “I’ll give you information worth more than money.” His eyes locked onto mine. Silence stretched between us while chaos exploded outside. Then finally, “Deal,” he said.