Chapter One
1041 Words
The grand ballroom of the Romano estate pulsed with a wealth-driven kind of elegance-soft golden chandeliers overhead, the clinking of expensive champagne flutes, murmurs of hushed conversations dipped in deception. Elena stood near the balcony, a delicate glass in her hand, the bitter taste of liquor doing little to dull the discomfort brewing inside her.
Another political event. Another night of forced smiles and empty pleasantries.
Her emerald-green gown clung to her figure, the silk smooth against her skin. She had spent years perfecting the art of appearing composed, of keeping up the illusion of a perfect politician’s daughter. Yet tonight, a restless energy coiled in her stomach. Something felt off.
Her father, Senator Aurelio Romano, moved through the crowd like a king in his court, shaking hands with men who held power in their pockets and greed in their eyes. Elena had grown up around men like them -corrupt, dangerous, untouchable.
She took another sip of her drink, swallowing down the frustration building inside her. Across the room, a group of sharply dressed men caught her attention. They weren’t politicians. They didn’t belong here.
Their movements were subtle, their gazes sharp. Not the casual appreciation she was used to, but something else.
Her pulse quickened.
“Elena.”
She turned, masking her unease behind a polished smile. “Father.”
Senator Romano placed a firm hand on her arm, steering her toward a man who reeked of cheap cologne and desperation. “I want you to meet Giovanni Vasquez. He’s a valuable ally.”
Elena nodded politely, her stomach twisting. She had long since stopped asking why her father paraded her like some kind of bargaining chip. He didn’t want a daughter. He wanted a piece to move in his endless game of power.
Vasquez’s fingers closed around hers in a handshake that lingered too long. His eyes dragged over her body like a purchase being considered.
“She’s as beautiful as they say,” he murmured.
Elena fought the urge to step back. She was used to this, but that didn’t mean she’d ever accept it.
“If you’ll excuse me,” she said, pulling her hand away and slipping through the crowd before her father could stop her.
Her heels clicked against the marble floor as she moved toward the open balcony doors, breathing in the crisp night air. Below, the gardens stretched wide, the estate’s iron gates standing like silent sentinels against the dark streets beyond.
Something inside her whispered run.
But where?
She had been born into this world. There was no escaping it.
A soft vibration in her clutch drew her attention. She pulled out her phone, fingers hovering over a message to her best friend, Valeria. "Get me out of here."
Before she could press send, the screen flickered—signal lost.
Her pulse stuttered.
A prickle ran down her spine, a warning she had learned to trust.
She turned to head back inside-only to be stopped by a hand clamping around her wrist.
The breath in her throat turned razor-sharp.
“Elena Romano,” a low voice murmured, close enough that she could feel the heat of it against her ear.
Strong fingers tightened around her wrist, unyielding but not cruel. A warning, not a threat.
She barely had time to react before she was pulled into the shadows.
The scent of leather and gunmetal filled her senses before she even registered the movement. One moment, she was on solid ground-the next, her back was pressed against the cold frame of a black SUV, the world spinning.
Her scream never left her throat. A gloved hand clamped over her mouth, cutting off the sound before it could shatter the fragile peace of the gala behind them.
Her heart pounded as she fought like hell, twisting, kicking, her nails digging into the flesh of her attacker’s arm.
“Calm down, princess,” a voice murmured against her ear.
She bit down hard on the hand covering her mouth. A curse followed, sharp and foreign.
Good. Let them bleed.
The moment of victory was short-lived. A second figure appeared, quicker, stronger.
Arms locked around her waist, lifting her off the ground as though she weighed nothing. Panic set in.
Elena thrashed, her legs kicking out blindly, but the man holding her didn’t flinch.
“Enough.”
The command was soft, almost bored.
And yet, it sent ice down her spine.
She was shoved into the back seat of the SUV, the slam of the door sealing her fate. The moment she lunged forward, hands caught her wrists, pulling them behind her. Something smooth—not rope, silk—coiled around them, tying them together.
A symbol of control, not restraint.
Elena sucked in a ragged breath, her vision adjusting to the dim interior.
That was when she saw him.
Luca DeLuca.
Stormy gray eyes studied her from the opposite seat, calm, assessing—amused.
She had heard the name whispered in fear. Had seen it splashed across newspaper headlines drenched in blood and speculation.
Mafia enforcer. Ghost of the underworld. A man who left no loose ends.
And now, he sat before her, one elbow resting lazily on the car door, his fingers tapping against his knee. As if this wasn’t an a*******n—but an inconvenience.
“Let me go,” she demanded, her voice low and laced with fury.
Luca’s head tilted slightly, as though considering her words.
“No.”
Elena’s breath hitched. “My father will come for me.”
That earned her a slow, dangerous smile. “That’s the idea.”
The SUV rumbled to life beneath them, the vehicle slipping into motion as the city lights blurred past.
She yanked at her restraints, fury bubbling beneath her skin. “You won’t get away with this.”
Luca leaned forward, his scent—cologne, smoke, and something darker—wrapping around her like a vice.
“Elena,” he murmured, his tone almost mocking.
She refused to flinch.
“You belong to me now.”
The words were quiet. Final.
Her stomach twisted, fear and something else curling in her chest.
The car picked up speed, the city fading behind them.
And with it—the life she once knew.
- Writer
