OWN BY THE MAFIA DON

First Night

Owned By The Mafia Don*

*Chapter 3: First Night*

Night fell over Chicago like a blade.

Aria hadn’t left the office chair in 14 hours. Her fingers ached from the keyboard. Her eyes burned from staring at encrypted Bratva manifests. She cracked three of them. Luca hadn’t said a word when Tony brought her food. He hadn’t said a word when she finished the last file at 9:47 PM.

Now the office was dark except for the glow of monitors. Luca stood behind her, close enough that she could feel his body heat. He hadn’t touched her since breakfast. That was worse than if he had.

“You’re good,” he said finally. His voice was low, meant only for her. “Faster than Mia.”

Aria didn’t turn. “I’m not doing this for you.”

“No,” Luca said. “You’re doing it because you’re alive. That’s enough.”

He reached past her and shut the monitors off. The room went black except for city light through the windows.

“Work’s done,” he said. “Now we deal with you.”

Aria stood. Her legs shook. “What does that mean?”

Luca didn’t answer. He took her wrist. Not hard, not gentle. Just absolute. He pulled her out of the office, down the hall, past the silent guards who didn’t look at her.

To the bedroom.

The same room from last night. Black sheets. Steel door. Camera in the corner with a red light.

Luca released her wrist and closed the door behind them. The lock clicked.

“Strip,” he said.

Aria stared at him. “No.”

Luca stepped closer. He didn’t raise his voice. He never needed to.

“Rule three,” he said quietly. “You don’t touch anyone but me. And no one touches you but me. That means I see what’s mine.”

“This isn’t about rules,” Aria said. “This is about you breaking me.”

Luca’s jaw tightened. “I’m not breaking you, Aria. I’m owning you. There’s a difference. Breaking is easy. Owning takes time.”

He reached for the hem of her shirt. She slapped his hand away.

Luca caught her wrist mid-air and pinned it above her head against the wall. His other hand came up to her throat. Not squeezing. Just there. A reminder of how little it would take.

“You think this is a game,” he said. His breath was warm against her ear. “It’s not. You stole from me. You put my blood at risk. In my world, that’s paid for with blood or with obedience. You chose obedience.”

Aria struggled, but he was immovable. Six-three of muscle and control and absolute certainty.

“Let me go,” she hissed.

“I will,” Luca said. “When I’m done.”

What followed wasn’t tender. It wasn’t kind. Luca was relentless, methodical, like everything he did. He took what he believed he was owed, and he made sure she knew it. His hands were rough, his mouth unforgiving, his words low and possessive against her skin.

Aria fought. She bit. She clawed. She said things she’d never said out loud before. None of it stopped him.

He was cold and furious and possessive, and when it was over he didn’t let go right away. He held her there, breathing hard against her neck, like he was staking a claim with his body.

_Fade to black._

When Aria could breathe again, she was on her side, sheet tangled around her legs, skin marked where his hands had been. She wasn’t crying. She’d learned that lesson in Miami. Crying didn’t help.

Luca stood at the edge of the bed, pulling his shirt back on. He didn’t look at her.

“You’ll learn to like it, piccola,” he said. His voice was rough. Not from exertion. From something else.

Aria laughed. It came out broken. “I’ll never like you.”

Luca turned. His gray eyes were unreadable.

“You don’t have to like me,” he said. “You just have to belong to me.”

He walked to the bathroom and shut the door. Water ran.

Aria lay there, staring at the ceiling, listening to the sound of him washing her off his skin. The camera in the corner kept recording.

When Luca came back out, he was dressed. He unstrapped the cuffs she didn’t remember being put on and tossed the leather onto the chair.

“Sleep,” he said. “Tomorrow you start earning your keep.”

He left. The door locked.

Aria pulled the sheet over her head and, for the first time since Miami, she let herself shake. Not from fear. From rage. From the knowledge that he’d been right: she belonged to him now, because he’d decided she did.

And in the Romano world, that was law.

*Cliffhanger:* “You’ll learn to like it, piccola.”