CHAPTER ONE (The girl with fire in Her eyes)
Rain poured over the city like a curse that couldn’t be lifted.
Adira Monroe stood at the edge of the marble balcony, the cold night wind pressing her thin dress to her skin. Below her, the streets of Milan buzzed with life, but none of it touched her. Up here, in the home of the most feared mafia family in Italy, the world felt still. Suffocating.
She was a guest. A prisoner. A favor.
And she hated every second of it.
The De Lucas had taken her in — or so they claimed — after her father’s sudden disappearance. But Adira knew better. You don’t invite someone into your house unless you want something from them.
And they wanted her silence.
“Miss Monroe,” a voice behind her interrupted her thoughts. “You’re wanted downstairs.”
She didn’t turn. “Is that a request or a threat?”
The man didn’t respond, only shifted uncomfortably. She could feel the fear dripping off him. The De Lucas ruled with more than money. They ruled with blood.
When she descended the spiral staircase, eyes followed her — assessing, calculating. She didn’t belong here. She was light in a house full of shadows.
And then she saw him.
Luciano De Luca.
The Prince.
He was seated at the head of the table, draped in a black suit with no tie, sleeves rolled up to reveal inked forearms and scars that weren’t just decorative. His jaw was sharp, lips unforgiving, and his eyes... God, those eyes. Like whiskey and war.
He didn’t smile when she entered. He didn’t even blink.
But she felt it.
The shift.
The heat.
Like the moment a fuse is lit but hasn’t reached the dynamite yet.
“Adira,” he said smoothly, “Come. Sit.”
She stayed frozen. “Why am I really here?”
Luciano leaned forward slowly, his gaze pinning her in place. “You’re here because your father owed me. And when a man dies in debt, his legacy pays the price.”
Her heart stopped.
“My father isn’t dead.”
Luciano smirked — cruel and calm. “Then you better hope he’s just hiding. Because if he’s not... you now belong to me.”
The room went silent.
Adira’s fists clenched. “I don’t belong to anyone.”
He stood, walking toward her with lethal elegance. “Oh, but you do now. And the sooner you learn that, the easier this will be.”
He passed her slowly, whispering in her ear as he moved.
“I don’t break my toys quickly, bella. I like to play first.”
She turned to face him, rage and panic mixing in her veins. “I’m not afraid of you.”
He stopped at the door, looking over his shoulder with a half-smile that chilled her.
“You should be.”
And just like that, the mafia prince was gone — leaving Adira in the lion’s den, marked by a man who had never learned to love without first conquering.
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To be continued in Chapter Two.
