Episode2:Touch of Fire
913 Words
The morning after the funeral, Aria Moretti woke to silence—and a gun on her nightstand.
It wasn’t hers.
Her breath caught as she stared at it. Sleek. Matte black. Recently used.
A warning… or protection?
She rose from bed slowly, the silk of her black nightgown whispering against her thighs. The penthouse was still. No guards, no staff. The Moretti empire had gone ghost overnight. Her uncle hadn’t called. Her father's men had vanished. She was alone at the top of a kingdom that didn’t know if it should follow her… or kill her.
And someone had left her a gift.
Her phone vibrated on the dresser.
Unknown Number: You shouldn’t sleep so deeply.
Her pulse spiked. She typed back quickly.
Aria: Was that you last night?
No reply.
She clenched the phone and crossed to the floor-to-ceiling windows. The city stretched out below like a lie wrapped in lights. She could feel the power humming beneath it all—drugs, secrets, blood money. Her father had ruled it. Now it was all hers.
If she could survive.
She turned back toward the bed—and froze.
Damien Rivas was in her living room.
No guards had stopped him. No cameras caught him. He just… appeared, like the devil he was.
“Nice view,” he said, sipping espresso like he hadn’t broken into her home. “I figured you wouldn’t call the cops.”
“How did you get in here?” she snapped, grabbing a robe and tying it tightly around her waist.
“Security code. Same one your father used.”
She blinked. “You knew my father’s codes?”
“I knew everything about your father.”
There was a heaviness in his voice that made her skin prickle. Damien sat on the leather armchair like he owned it, legs spread, dark suit tailored to perfection, silver watch gleaming on his wrist. Casual power. Effortless danger.
“You left the gun?” she asked, arms crossed.
He nodded. “You’ll need it.”
“I don’t want your help.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
She walked slowly toward him, fire licking beneath her skin. “What do you want from me?”
“Nothing. Yet.”
“Bullshit.”
He smiled lazily, eyes dragging down her body like a promise. “If I wanted something, you’d know it.”
Her breath hitched. The air between them charged.
“You killed my father,” she said, voice low.
“No,” he said, sipping his espresso again. “But I didn’t stop it, either.”
She stared at him. “Why?”
“Because he made too many enemies. And you…” He stood and took a step closer. “You just became one of them.”
Her robe brushed his chest as he invaded her space. She could smell him—cedarwood, danger, and something dark that made her knees weaken.
“Why are you really here?” she whispered.
Damien’s gaze dropped to her lips. “Because I wanted to see what the new queen looked like before the wolves devoured her.”
“And?”
He reached out, brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers were warm, calloused, lingering.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, voice rough. “But beauty doesn’t save anyone in this world.”
Then his hand slid down her neck… to her collarbone… stopping just above the swell of her breast.
She didn’t move.
Couldn’t.
“Is this part of the game?” she asked, breathless.
“Everything is,” he said, leaning in.
His lips brushed hers. Not a kiss—just heat. Pressure. A spark set loose.
She grabbed his shirt. Pulled him closer.
Their mouths collided—rough, hungry, a battle of power and desire. His hands gripped her waist, pulled her flush against him. She gasped as his tongue parted her lips, his kiss devouring and dominant. He backed her into the wall, robe falling open, silk sliding off her shoulder.
His mouth moved to her neck, biting down softly.
She moaned.
But just as fast, he stopped.
Pulled back.
His eyes were black fire, chest heaving.
“No,” he said, stepping away. “Not like this.”
Aria blinked, breath catching. “Why?”
“Because you think I killed your father.” He looked down, lips swollen, jaw clenched. “And because if I f**k you now, you’ll never trust me again.”
“Who says I trust you now?”
He chuckled. “Exactly.”
And then—he was gone. Just like that. No sound. No goodbye.
Leaving her half-naked, furious, and burning with a hunger she hated herself for feeling.
---
Three hours later, Aria stood in her father’s study.
Dusty ledgers. Hidden safes. Secrets in every drawer.
She opened a hidden panel behind the bookcase. Inside: old files, handwritten notes… and a flash drive labeled G.B.
Game of Blood.
She plugged it into her laptop. Video files. Dozens. Surveillance. Recordings. Conversations with people she didn’t recognize—but one name kept popping up.
Damien Rivas.
There was more to this. More than murder. More than money.
Her father had been playing a game with Damien… and she was the new piece on the board.
---
Later that night, she got another text.
Unknown Number: Meet me. Midnight. Club Inferno.
She knew it was him.
And she knew she’d go.
Even if it killed her.
- Writer
