BORN IN BLOOD

THE TEMPTATION OF VALENTINA

Luca didn’t believe in fate. Only choices. Power. Control.

And yet, as he stepped into the dimly lit lounge of the La Rosa Nera, he couldn’t shake the feeling that meeting Valentina Russo was about to change something in his world.

The club was upscale—low lighting, expensive whiskey, and the kind of clientele who preferred their conversations private. It wasn’t his territory, which meant meeting her here was already a calculated move on her part. Smart. Dangerous.

Gio walked ahead, scanning the room before nodding. “Back booth.”

Luca followed his gaze.

And there she was.

Valentina Russo wasn’t just beautiful—she was lethal in a way most women weren’t. Her dark hair cascaded over one shoulder, her deep red dress clinging to curves designed to distract. A glass of wine rested between her fingers, her manicured nails tapping the stem slowly, as if she had all the time in the world. Like she was the one in control.

Interesting.

Luca slid into the seat across from her, his movements deliberate, controlled. She watched him, her lips curving into a knowing smile.

“You came,” she murmured, swirling her wine.

Luca leaned back, draping an arm over the booth. “You didn’t give me much of a choice.”

“There’s always a choice,” she said, her eyes flicking to his before dropping to his lips for the briefest second. A calculated move. He knew the game she was playing.

He smirked. If she wanted to play, he’d make sure she lost.

“Then let’s get to it,” Luca said, his voice smooth but firm. “What does a Russo want with a DeLuca?”

Valentina took a slow sip of her wine before setting the glass down. Her confidence was effortless, intoxicating. Most people fidgeted in his presence. She looked like she was enjoying herself.

“I need your help,” she said finally.

Luca chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s a dangerous thing to ask me for, sweetheart.”

She tilted her head, amusement flickering in her gaze. “I’m not your sweetheart.”

“Not yet.”

The words slipped out easily, teasing, testing. Valentina’s lips parted slightly, but she didn’t look away. Instead, she leaned forward just a fraction. Close enough that he could catch the faint scent of jasmine and something darker, more sinful.

“I need protection, Luca,” she said, her voice quieter now. “I have… unfinished business.”

Luca studied her. She was playing her cards well, revealing just enough to keep him interested. But interest wasn’t trust.

“Protection from who?” he asked.

She hesitated, and for the first time, something flickered in her gaze—a shadow of fear.

“The Bratva,” she said finally. “They want me dead.”

The words sent a slow burn through Luca’s chest. The Russian mafia didn’t go after people without a reason. If they wanted Valentina Russo dead, it meant she was either a threat or a loose end.

And loose ends got tied up in body bags.

Luca tapped a finger against the table. Taking her in meant making enemies. But it also meant power—because if the Bratva wanted her dead, then she had something valuable.

He leaned forward, mirroring her, his voice dark and smooth.

“What did you do, Valentina?”

She exhaled slowly, her confidence never wavering.

“I stole something from them,” she admitted. “Something worth killing for.”

Luca smirked. Now things were getting interesting

(Valentina’s POV)

The moment Luca DeLuca sat across from her, Valentina knew she was walking a tightrope.

He was dangerous that much was obvious. It wasn’t just the power he carried, the way the room seemed to shift around him, the way even his men stood at attention in his presence. It was the coldness in his eyes.

Eyes that had seen death. Eyes that had caused it.

And yet, she was here. Staring into the face of a man who could save her or destroy her.

She took a sip of her wine, keeping her movements slow, composed. She wouldn’t let him see her unease, wouldn’t let him sense the fear curling in her gut. Luca was a predator, and predators smelled weakness.

“You need protection from the Bratva,” he said, his voice a low, assessing drawl. “And in return?”

Valentina exhaled softly, her fingers tracing the stem of her glass. He wouldn’t help her without knowing what was in it for him. That was the kind of man he was—calculating, ruthless. And yet, she had to make him believe she was worth keeping alive.

So she leaned in, just slightly, letting her eyes lock onto his.

“I have something they want,” she said. “Something they’d kill for.”

His smirk was slow, deadly. “Something I’d kill for?”

Her heart beat a little faster. She knew the moment he was truly interested—the way his gaze darkened just slightly, the way he tilted his head, studying her as if she were a puzzle waiting to be solved.

She could lie. She could spin a web of half-truths. But Luca wasn’t a man easily deceived.

So she gave him just enough of the truth to keep him hooked.

“A ledger,” she said, her voice low. “A book filled with names. Deals. Payments. Every dirty secret the Bratva never wanted to see the light of day.”

Luca stilled.

She didn’t miss the flicker of recognition in his gaze, the way his jaw tensed just slightly. He knew exactly how much power something like that carried.

Valentina had stolen a weapon. Not a gun, not a blade, but something far more dangerous—information.

Luca exhaled through his nose, leaning back, tapping his fingers once against the table. “And why exactly do you have this ledger?”

Because she was supposed to be dead.

Because the Bratva had taken everything from her, and she wasn’t the kind of woman who went down quietly.

But she couldn’t give him everything. Not yet.

“Because I like playing with fire,” she murmured instead, letting her lips curve just slightly.

Luca chuckled, dark and amused. “That makes two of us, tesoro.”

Treasure. The word rolled off his tongue effortlessly, smooth and possessive. She wasn’t naïve—she knew Luca DeLuca didn’t throw words like that around lightly. He was testing her, just as she was testing him.

But Valentina never let a man set the pace. Not anymore.

She lifted her glass and took another slow sip, letting the silence stretch between them. Let him wonder. Let him chase.

Luca’s gaze swept over her, assessing. “If the Bratva wants you dead, that means they know you have it.”

“They know I took something,” she corrected. “They don’t know where it is.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, his interest deepening. He was quiet for a moment, thinking, calculating. Luca DeLuca didn’t make impulsive decisions. He measured every risk, every angle.

Finally, he said, “So you ran.”

A slow smirk curled her lips. “I don’t run, Luca. I reposition.”

Something flickered in his gaze—approval, amusement. Maybe both.

Luca leaned forward, forearms resting on the table, his presence overpowering. “And now you’re here, asking for my protection.”

She didn’t blink. “I’m here, offering you an opportunity.”

His brow lifted slightly. “Is that what you call it?”

“I know what’s in that ledger, Luca,” she said, her voice dropping just enough to make sure no one else heard. “Names. Accounts. People you might want to destroy. People you might want to protect.”

His gaze darkened, his expression unreadable. She had him now.

“You could kill me and take your chances finding it,” she continued, swirling the last of her wine. “Or… you could keep me breathing long enough to use it.”

Luca exhaled slowly, his lips curling at the edges. He enjoyed this, she realized. The game. The sharp edges of a negotiation that could end in power… or blood.

“I don’t do charity work, Valentina.”

“I wouldn’t insult you by suggesting otherwise.”

Silence. A long, weighted pause.

Then, he lifted a hand, signaling to the bartender. Within seconds, a fresh glass of whiskey was placed in front of him. He took a slow sip, watching her over the rim.

Finally, he spoke. “Fine.”

She blinked. “Fine?”

“You get my protection,” he said simply. “For now.”

She should have felt relieved. But the way he looked at her—the quiet intensity in his eyes—told her this was just the beginning. Because Luca DeLuca never did anything without expecting something in return.

And as much as she had played this as a calculated move, she knew one undeniable truth.

Luca wasn’t just protection. He was a storm.

And she had just stepped straight into the eye of it.

As they left the club together, the weight of his presence beside her felt heavier than she had anticipated. It wasn’t just the protection she had secured—it was the consequences that came with it.

Luca’s driver held the door open for her, and she slid into the sleek black car, feeling the heat of his body as he settled in beside her. The doors shut, sealing them in, and for a moment, the only sound was the steady hum of the engine.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

Luca looked at her, one arm draped lazily over the seat, his fingers idly tapping. “Somewhere safe.”

She studied him, trying to get a read on his thoughts. But Luca DeLuca was impossible to read unless he wanted you to.

“Your kind of safe or my kind of safe?” she murmured.

His smirk was slow, wicked. “Tesoro, you’re in my world now.”

The car pulled into motion, the city lights blurring past the tinted windows. And Valentina knew, in that moment, that she had just changed the course of her life forever.