Bought By The Ruthless Don

Episode2

ALESSIA.

A team of stylists swooped into my room like a flock of eager vultures an hour or so after I received my assignment.

I was plucked, primed, and pumped up.

My eyebrows were threaded to thin perfection, my lips were painted a deep, sultry red, and my hair was wound into a sleek updo with a few tendrils left loose to frame my face. My dress—a deep emerald green that hugged my figure before flaring out—was made to be half regal, half seductive. The slit along my right thigh was a little excessive, but I wasn't about to complain. At least it made for easy access to the blades strapped on my leg. I had throwing stars subtly in hidden seams, and my stilettos? They were threaded with retractable blades. No one ever considered suspecting the shoes.

While they worked, my mind spun with everything I knew about my target.

Silas Dravetti. Thirty-three years old. Don of the Dravetti family.

The Morettis and Dravettis had been at each other's throats for over two centuries. This was blood feud territory, the kind of grudge that didn't improve with age. And yet, Salvatore had given me barely more than a few hours' preparation.

Unless…

The thought sent a chill through my blood.

Unless he was setting me up to fail.

I pushed down the fear brewing in my gut and focused on what needed doing.

When I'd finished, the final touches applied, and the guns securely fastened in their holsters, I headed downstairs.

A black limousine waited in the driveway, its surface gleaming under the subdued estate lights. But it wasn't the car that stopped me in my tracks.

Standing in front of it, wearing a tight-fitting black suit, was Usuv.

I frowned.

Usuv was one of Salvatore's Made Men. He did not harass me actively like the others, but he never stopped them when they did either. He was a bystander, a man who stood by and did nothing.

His black eyes met mine, unreadable as ever.

I silently moved around him and slid into the limo. He followed, shutting the door behind him.

"The Don asked me to escort you," he said, his voice devoid of emotion.

I snorted. "Oh, great. Because I'd just die without a babysitter."

He didn’t rise to the bait. "Your identity for the night is Liora Volkov, daughter of the late Andrei Volkov. Mine is Zorin Volkov, your cousin."

I studied him. "You’re the heir of the Volkovs now? That must be exciting."

His face didn’t change the slightest. "Thrilling."

We went over our cover story in a few words, clarifying small details. The rest of the ride was silent, except for the gentle crinkle of paper as I went over the documents once more.

I had memorized the floor plan of Villa dei Segreti.

A desolate road stretched out before us as we neared our destination. The first checkpoint loomed ahead, men in shiny suits with guns, standing in front of an iron gate. The driver rolled down the window, extending our fake invitations.

One of the guards stooped, looking over the documents. Then his gaze moved to me. "The Volkovs don't show their faces often."

Usuv, now Zorin, gave a lazy smile. "There's a first time for everything."

The guard held the stare for another moment before stepping back and nodding. The gates groaned open to admit us.

Villa dei Segreti stretched out beyond.

A brooding, imposing structure, its architecture dripped with ancient wealth and secrecy. The estate was rumored to have secret tunnels and twisting corridors, a fortress built for hiding.

Villa dei Segreti. The Villa of Secrets.

We fastened on our masks. Usuv's was black with a gold border, masculine and understated. Mine was an intricate lace design, delicate but deceptive.

With that, we walked out, arms intertwined, and proceeded to the entrance.

We were met by a woman in a stunning red gown who smiled at us, accepting our invitations. Her eyes lingered on Usuv. "Welcome to Villa dei Segreti, Mr. Volkov."

Usuv returned her smile with one of his own. "Pleasure is mine."

She let us in.

Inside, the party was already going on.

Chandeliers dripped with crystals, casting golden light over the sea of masked figures. Elegant laughter and murmured conversations filled the air. A quartet played in the background, their music weaving seamlessly with the chatter.

We had arrived fashionably late, which meant we’d already drawn attention. Eyes followed us, assessing, prying.

My own eyes did a quick sweep of the room.

Silas Dravetti wasn't among them.

That was alright. The night was still young.

We were soon swarmed by different guests, their polished fronts concealing their agendas. Information glowed behind every conversation, every fake smile.

Usuv played the role of charming heir easily enough, his voice smooth, his smiles calculated.

He entertained questions, danced around inquiries, and let slip just enough to seem genuine.

"The Don of the Volkovs has been dead for some time," he told a curious guest. "And as his successor, I’m looking to secure strong alliances."

I stood beside him, playing the role of the quiet, demure cousin, speaking only when spoken to.

I leaned in at one point, lowering my voice just for him. "You're surprisingly good at this. One would think you couldn’t speak."

He sipped at his champagne. "Thanks. You're surprisingly tolerable."

A ghost of a sneer played on my lips before he returned his attention to the crowd.

"And part of securing alliances," he continued smoothly, "involves finding a suitable husband for my dear cousin, Liora."

I bent my head demurely, with a practiced smile. There was a stir of interest in the men surrounding us.

One man, with wide shoulders and a silver mask, bowed his head to me. "And what qualities does your cousin look for in a husband?"

I tried my best polite, shy maiden smile. "Breathing is a good start."

The man laughed heartily. "High standards."

Usuv placed a guiding hand on my back. "She’s quite the catch. But I’m looking for someone worthy."

He needed to take his hand off me or I was going to stab him.

Over thirty minutes of this passed. Then, suddenly, a hush fell over the room.

My body straightened, my senses on high alert.

All eyes turned toward the stage as my target, Silas Dravetti, stepped forward.