Thirty Nights of Silence

Sarah Kingsley had signed contracts worth more than most people saw in a lifetime, but nothing had ever made her hesitate… until now. The invitation arrived like any other—formal, professional, precise. But the name on the letterhead made her pulse tighten: Lorenzo De Santis. A man feared, respected, and whispered about across Europe. A mafia boss by reputation, a master of control in reality, and—according to rumors—untouchable. And now, he wanted her. She stepped into the penthouse, heels clicking against marble floors, her pulse steady despite the weight of the silence. The city lights of Milan glittered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, but the view was secondary. Everything in the room drew her attention to him. Lorenzo stood by the window, hands clasped behind his back, sharp suit impeccable, aura unshakable. His dark eyes scanned her like a chessboard, calculating, patient, and impossibly calm. “You may sit,” he said. “I’m fine standing,” Sarah replied, refusing to shrink. He tilted his head slightly, a small acknowledgment of her defiance. “Most people don’t argue on the first meeting.” “I’m not most people.” He walked to the table, setting down a black folder with deliberate precision. “Thirty nights,” he said. “No force. No obligation. No rules—except one: stay, observe, decide.” Sarah opened the folder. Terms, conditions, payment—everything laid out clearly. She felt a strange mix of disbelief and intrigue. “Why me?” she asked finally, voice steady despite her racing heart. “Because you don’t want me,” he said softly. “And I want to see what happens when I wait.” Her breath caught. Later, alone in the guest suite, Sarah pressed her palms to the balcony railing, letting the cool night air fill her lungs. The city thrummed below, oblivious to the tension inside the penthouse. Somewhere behind her, Lorenzo De Santis watched—not demanding, not forcing, just waiting. Her phone buzzed. A single message, no name: Lorenzo: Night one begins now. You are free to leave at dawn. Sarah typed back before she could hesitate: Sarah: I don’t run. Three dots appeared and disappeared. No reply. Somewhere in the penthouse, Lorenzo’s lips curved into the faintest of smiles. And Sarah realized, with a shiver she wouldn’t admit aloud, that the danger wasn’t outside. It was in the man who didn’t need to threaten her—and in the part of her that might want him to.Sarah’s guest suite was immaculate, minimalistic but luxurious. A king-size bed, soft linens, a desk with an expensive pen set, and a balcony overlooking the city. Everything screamed wealth, control… and the presence of a man who didn’t leave a single detail to chance. She unpacked her bag slowly, deliberately, as if by taking her time she could assert some control in this foreign world. But she knew it was an illusion. Every glance at the door, every shadow in the room, reminded her: Lorenzo was everywhere—even if he wasn’t visible. A soft knock at the door made her start. “I brought water,” his voice said from the hallway, calm, measured. Sarah didn’t move immediately. She didn’t need him to see her react. “Sarah,” he said, almost casually, “I don’t insist you drink it. I simply… provide.” Her fingers tightened around the bottle as he stepped into the room. Not fully, just enough that she could feel his presence—the subtle scent of his cologne, the controlled energy he radiated. He didn’t sit. He didn’t smile. He simply stood there, a shadow of authority framed against the city lights. “I don’t need a babysitter,” she said, voice steady. “You don’t,” he agreed. “But I wanted to see you first, before the night grows too long. Observation is part of the contract, after all.” Her pulse skipped. Observation. He was watching her. Always. And yet… he wasn’t intrusive. Not yet. “I assume you sleep in the suite,” he continued. “But feel free to walk the penthouse. Explore. You’re a guest here, Sarah. Within reason.” She raised an eyebrow. “Within reason?” “Within my house,” he said simply. No arrogance. No explanation. Just fact. Sarah bit back a smile. This was ridiculous. Dangerous. Thrilling. And somehow… intoxicating. “I’ll explore on my own terms,” she said. “I would expect nothing less,” he replied. And then, without another word, he turned and left the room. His steps echoed down the hallway, leaving her alone, yet somehow acutely aware of him. Leaning against the balcony railing, Sarah let the night air wash over her. She should have felt fear. After all, this man’s reputation was enough to send most people running. But instead… her heart beat a little faster. Curiosity. Intrigue. Something else she refused to name. And far away in the penthouse, Lorenzo watched the city, imagining her reaction, calculating the next move in a game neither of them fully understood yet. The first night had begun. And already, neither was certain who would make the first move.