VOWS OF BLOOD AND POWER

(VITTORIA POV) The espresso was bitter. Just how I liked it. It burned down my throat like truth — sharp, unavoidable, and cleansing. I stared out of the glass wall of my office, watching Rome stretch endlessly beneath me like a kingdom I already owned. From the height of the De Luca Enterprises tower, everything looked calm. Peaceful. But peace was an illusion. Power didn’t allow calm. Not when your name was De Luca. And not when the world thought you were just another pretty CEO in a designer suit. "Il potere non è mai gentile." (Power is never gentle.) “Ms. De Luca,” came Sofia’s voice through the intercom. “The Americans just confirmed. Roosevelt King will be attending the Milan Summit tomorrow.” I didn’t flinch. I simply lowered the espresso and set it back in its saucer. Of course he was coming. The Americans were never ones to miss a show — especially when they thought they could steal the spotlight. “Prepare the guest list,” I said. “And make sure the press is present when we greet each other. I want flashbulbs. I want coverage.” “Yes, ma’am.” I leaned back in my leather chair, folding one leg over the other, fingers tapping lightly against the armrest. Roosevelt King. Even the name reeked of arrogance. He was a self-made American billionaire. Ruthless. Cold. Strategic. The CEO of King Industries and, if the rumors were true, the shadowed hand behind the largest mafia network in the Western Hemisphere. But that wasn’t the problem. The problem was — he was too much like me. Cold. Controlled. Calculated. The world called him a king. They didn’t know that across the ocean, the regina had already risen. (Queen) And I didn’t share thrones. --- I was born with blood on my name. My father was once the most feared man in Italy — until he disappeared. Faked death, they whispered. Cowardice, they gossiped. They were wrong. He had left everything to me. He trained me in the shadows. Raised me to be quieter than my enemies’ screams. I learned to negotiate before I could walk in heels. I learned to aim before I could drive. And when the time came to take over, I did so with a smile. Now, I was the head of De Luca Enterprises by day… And Spina Nera by night — the name they feared but couldn’t trace. (Black Thorns) No one knew the queen had already taken the throne. Let them keep looking for the man they thought was still in charge. Let them overlook the daughter. Let them sottovalutarmi. (Underestimate me.) It made the kill cleaner. --- That evening, the summit buzzed like a well-oiled lie. I descended the marble stairs of the venue, flanked by my team. The photographers clicked like weapons. The champagne sparkled like a bribe. Business deals were spoken in coded smiles. And then… silence. He hadn’t arrived, but the whispers already followed. Roosevelt King. I didn’t turn. I didn’t need to. The air shifted. But I refused to let him own the moment. Not yet. Not here. --- Back in the private conference room, the mood shifted from sweet to steel. The Kings were already seated — his father, older, grayer, just as dangerous. My uncle sat beside me, arms folded like a wall of tradition. “We’ve called this meeting,” my uncle began, “because the time for games has ended.” There was a pause. Then the words that would change everything fell like thunder: > “We propose a marriage.” Silence. Cold. Heavy. Unforgiving. I turned my head slowly. “Mi scusi?” (Excuse me?) “A union,” he repeated. “Between you and Roosevelt. To end this war — in business and… beyond.” My nails bit into my palm under the table. They wanted me to marry my enemy. To unite two empires soaked in blood. To give up my secrets for peace? "Pace?" I whispered. "Non c'è pace dove c'è potere." (Peace? There is no peace where there is power.) But I smirked A queen always smiles before war.