To Ruin a Don

Darkness

_Aria’s POV_

“Curiosity killed Aria, daughter of the Don of the Bianchi mafia -“

I can practically see the news filled with headlines like this, if only I had listened.

Hours ago….

“No means No,” Father said for the thousandth time today, not even giving me a chance to speak.

“But father,” I whined like the spoilt brat I was. “Everyone I know would be there. Just please? This one time?” I begged.

I even threw in a bribe.

“I would even go for training seven days a week.” My lips were pulled into a very wide, fake, smile.

No way I would do that. I thought to myself as I kept the smile plastered on my face.

But that didn’t even entice my father.

“No. Not tonight.” He said with finality, his eyes cold.

“Don’t test me Aria, it’s not safe.” he continued like he knew I was going to keep asking.

So I knew at that moment that nothing I said would convince him.

I nodded my head once, then turned on my heels.

“Okay,” I said as I walked away.

I could feel his eyes burning into my back.

“Aria?” He called out from behind me, like he knew I was planning something

“I said okay Dad, what else do you want? For me to sulk and cry?” I asked sarcastically, not bothering to turn around.

Let him think I was sad after trying to shatter my dreams.

My phone rang the moment I turned a corner, and I answered on the first ring.

“Are we on for tonight?” Sabrina’s shrill voice came from the other side and I smiled.

“You bet.”

There was no way I would be missing one of the greatest parties to be held. Ever.

So naturally, by midnight, I had slipped into a skintight dress, dagger strapped to my thigh as I snuck out of the house.

My eyes met with one of the cameras and I stuck out my tongue before walking out of the door and into my car, driving away.

Sabrina and Rio were waiting for me at the entrance of their estate.

“Let’s go party!!” Sabrina screamed as I pressed down on the gas pedal, driving away.

The party was in full swing when we got there. Bodies rolling against each other. People drinking.

Exactly what I wanted.

All eyes were on us when we walked in.

The bass hit like a heartbeat. Neon lights strobed over the crowd, making everything blur—skin, glitter, sweat, and shadows.

I wasn’t Aria Bianchi tonight. I wasn’t the mafia princess locked in her father’s glass castle. I was just a girl in a killer dress with defiance burning beneath her ribs.

“Holy s**t,” Sabrina said, linking her arm with mine as we stepped into the chaos. “This party’s actually insane.”

Bodies writhed to the beat, drinks sloshed from plastic cups, and someone was already making out against the DJ booth.

Exactly what I needed.

Rio whooped and disappeared into the crowd like a feral animal set free. Sabrina and I followed, hips swaying, arms in the air. I lost myself in the movement, letting the bass replace my thoughts.

Then I felt it—eyes.

A heavy stare. From somewhere to my right.

“Don’t look now,” Sabrina muttered in my ear, “but someone in the VIP section is staring like you’re his next meal.”

“Who?” I asked, scanning discreetly.

“Eight o’clock. Salt-and-pepper hair. Black shirt. Sitting like he owns the damn city.”

My gaze landed on him—and it was like the rest of the room went underwater.

He was older. Dangerous-looking. And still. Like an animal that hadn’t made up its mind whether to move or devour.

He was watching me like he’d already imagined all the ways I’d disobey him.

My heart thudded once. Twice.

“Do you think he’s the owner?” Sabrina asked. “Only top-tier people get VIP.”

“He’s not a bartender, that’s for sure,” I said, eyes still locked on his.

“Girl, he’s practically eye-f*****g you. Go talk to him.” Sabrina made a move to push me, but I held my ground

“No way.” I shook my head.

He screamed DANGER. The type that got you intoxicated

“Chicken.” She smirked and I narrowed my eyes.

There was one thing I hated, and it was being called that. There was no way I was backing out on a dare.

“Watch me.”

I pushed through the crowd, hips swaying harder now, like I was dancing just for him. As I moved, I couldn’t shake the feeling crawling up my spine—like I’d been marked.

At the velvet rope guarding the VIP section, two bodyguards stepped in front of me. Wall-sized men in dark suits, arms crossed.

I tilted my head, ignoring them, and looked directly at him.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t blink. But his eyes raked down my body with precision.

And then, a flick of his fingers.

The guards parted like obedient dogs.

I stepped forward.

The air inside the VIP was colder, quieter. As if the noise of the club didn’t dare follow him. His presence swallowed everything.

He didn’t say a word as I reached his table.

No smile. No nod. Just that unreadable gaze, like I was some puzzle he’d already solved and found disappointing.

I held the stare anyway.

My hand slid toward his glass. I plucked it from his fingers, letting them graze mine. His touch was warm—calloused. Not soft. Not safe.

I took a slow sip of the dark liquor, pretending it didn’t burn.

Still, he didn’t speak.

So I leaned forward, hands on the table, cleavage front and center.

“If you’re gonna stare all night, the least you can do is buy me a drink,” I said, voice sugar-laced with bite.

Nothing.

His eyes dropped to my mouth. My neck. My chest. Back to my mouth.

Still no reaction. Not a twitch.

It was like standing in front of a predator who hadn’t decided whether I was prey or play.

I smirked. “The body is tea, but you really don't have to go dumb.”

He just blinked. Slowly. Like I was boring him.

My fake confidence cracked. I straightened up, rolled my eyes.

“Didn’t realize the VIP section was for statues.”

I turned and walked off, heat rushing to my cheeks—but I didn’t look back.

I could still feel him watching me.

“How did it go?” Sabrina asked the moment I got to her and I just shrugged.

He was an ass.

I opened my mouth to say something but my phone rang, cutting me off.

Bringing my screen to my face, the caller ID stared at me and for a moment my heart skipped a beat.

“s**t. Don't answer.” Sabrina whispered as she stared at me, but I was already bringing my phone to my face.

“ARIA BIANCHI. IF YOU DON’T BRING YOUR ASS BACK HOME THIS INSTANCE, YOU WOULD REGRET IT.” Father thundered from the other end of the line before the call went flat.

“Are you…” Sabrina started, staring at me with uncertainty.

“Oh, I am not going home. He says that every time I sneak out of the house.” I scoffed as I threw my phone into my purse.

I came out to enjoy the night, and I was definitely going to do that.

My eyes strayed as I danced, over to the VIP corner and I realized he was gone.

Well whatever. It didn’t bother me anyway.

I grabbed a drink from a passing waiter, throwing everything back as I danced with full force.

“Aria, someone just scratched your car.”

Rio’s words barely cut through the fog of bass and sweat and too much alcohol. But the second I processed it, my body jolted.

“What?!” I snapped.

Not my car. Not my baby.

I shoved through the crowd, fury mounting with each step. Sabrina and Rio hustled behind me as I stormed toward the exit. The cold air outside slapped me in the face, sobering me instantly.

The parking lot was almost empty. Too quiet. Too still.

A bad feeling twisted in my gut.

“Where?” I asked, scanning the dim lot as we reached my car.

“Front fender,” Rio said, pointing.

I bent down, fingers grazing the long, ugly scratch slicing through the paint.

“This might cost a bit,” I muttered, heart thudding, teeth grinding.

I turned to face my friends. “Guys, do you wanna head back—”

A hand clamped over my mouth.

My scream was swallowed by the fabric sack yanked down over my head. The world turned black in an instant.

I thrashed wildly, legs kicking, arms flailing—but another pair of arms hooked around my waist, lifting me clean off the ground.

I screamed into the bag, the sound muffled and pitiful.

I clawed back, nails digging into someone’s arm, but they didn’t flinch.

I kicked, thrashed, threw my head back hard enough to make contact with something—a chin, maybe? I heard a grunt. Good.

But it wasn’t enough.

The bag reeked of something chemical. Sweet, sharp. The scent invaded my nostrils, thick and suffocating. My lungs burned. My head spun.

No. No no no.

I refused to go down without a fight.

I reached down—my thigh.

The dagger.

My fingers trembled as they searched along my leg, fumbling for the strap beneath my dress. Almost there. I could feel the cool metal of the hilt pressing against my skin.

Just a second more. Just a second—

But the gas, or whatever the hell they soaked the bag in, was already working. My muscles began to tremble. My legs felt like jelly beneath me.

No—don’t black out. Not now.

I clawed again, this time at the fabric over my face, scratching, yanking, choking on my breath.

A voice barked something in a language I didn’t understand.

Then a sharp pinch—something jabbed into my arm.

The weakness hit harder. Faster.

My grip slipped off the dagger.

I sagged in the grip of my captor, mouth open, gasping uselessly.

The last thing I heard was the sound of my own heartbeat, loud and ragged in my ears.

And then—

Darkness