Chapter 1 A Heartfelt Debt

"Francesca, you're late."

With strength in every word, the low voice slithered through the dark chamber, piercing and cold. Despite having heard the voice only a few times, Francesca was familiar with it. It was owned by Dante Bianchi, the dreaded guy in the city. The boss of the mafia who had puppet-like control over everything and everyone.

Francesca, though, was no puppet. With a steely voice and a lifted chin, she answered, "I had other things to do." Her dark eyes met his. Dante surveyed her with a disconcerting serenity as he sat behind a big mahogany desk.

Francesca felt her heartbeat pick up at the tiniest trace of a smile. To him, this was all a game, and she was not going to play along. She hadn't given a damn, even if baking flour was still stuck to her hands. She had no intention of entertaining him.

"You'd be smart to not keep me waiting." With a forward lean, he radiated dominance with every step, his fitted suit catching the dim light in the room.

She shot back, "Maybe you should tell my father that." "Not me, he is the one who owes you money."

Dante's gaze grew gloomy. "Your dad isn't present. Buy, you are. This implies that you are in charge of making the loan payment."

"Is that how it operates?" Despite having a racing heart, Francesca said with sarcasm in her voice. "A blood debt?"

He was on his feet, his massive frame filling the gap between them. "That's right, a blood debt"

Francesca took a deep breath. Often taking on more than he could handle, her father had taken out a loan to maintain their family bakery. Dante had given him a half-year to repay it. Francesca was standing in the lion's den because her father was too afraid to acknowledge his own shortcomings after that deadline passed last week.

"You know I can't just pull that kind of money out of thin air." With her arms crossed, her fiery spirit unwavering. "You really believe that threatening me will change that?"

Dante's voice grew deadly and his eyes narrowed. "Francesca, you're not understanding me. I'm not threatening you."

A shiver ran up her back. "So, what do you want?"

"I want what is rightfully mine." He approached her slowly, his gaze fixed on hers the entire time. "And you are mine until that debt is settled."

She tensed up. "I'm not something you own."

A menacing smile curled Dante's lips. "At this moment, you are. You will work for me until your father gets his debt settled."

Francesca became more defiant. "Work for you? What precisely will I be doing? Cleaning your estate? Running errands for your gang members?"

"No," he said with a cold, dangerously seductive voice. "You will always be by my side, day and night. I need someone like you for different purposes."

"Huh" She gasped for air. It seemed like a prison sentence, but she had no doubt what he meant. However, there was a glint in his gaze that went beyond simple hatred.

Pointing her finger at him angrily, she said, "I'm not some pawn you can use to keep my father in line."

Amused, Dante arched an eyebrow. "Francesca, you are more than just a pawn. You're an explosive. I'm not going to release that just now."

Her hands became tight. "If you believe you can break me-"

Suddenly he said softly but menacingly. "I do not wish to break you. I wish to subdue you."

Her temper erupted, but behind the surface there was something else now, something eerily similar to intrigue. Did she not detest him? Dante Bianchi exuded violence, corruption, and dominance in every way. However, there was something inscrutable about the way he gazed at her. Something that gave her the impression that she was perched on the brink of a precipice.

Her voice was harsh as she murmured, "You'll never tame me."

With a twist of his head, Dante looked into her dark eyes. "That's what makes this interesting."

Despite her desire to yell and smash something, she maintained her cool.

Rather than backing off, she moved closer to him, startling even herself. "You don't frighten me," she declared, her tone indignant.

His smile returned, this time one that made her skin crawl-a slow, menacing smile. "It's right to be afraid, Francesca. However, I appreciate that you're not. And I respect your courage"

She growled, "I don't need your respect."

Before he responded, Dante studied her for a bit as his eyes stayed on her face. "Alright. In my world, you'll need more than just respect to survive."

"Whoosh!" Francesca inhaled deeply, her thoughts whirling. What option did she have? Her dad wasn't a brave man. He was never going to face Dante directly. And even if they sold the bakery, they would still be unable to pay off the debt. However, this? She knows she has to handle this situation with strength and wisdom.

Finally, she said, "Fine." "I'll be here till the debt is paid off. I'm not your servant, though. I'm not your toy, either."

Something evil flared in Dante's eyes. "Not at all. None of those apply to you. You'll soon discover what applies to you."

Her heartbeat quickened as she forcefully gulped. "How about my dad?" "What happens to him?"

"If you follow the rules, he'll be left alone."

"Rules?" Her tone was tinged with contempt. "Which rules?"

His lips were just inches from her ear as he leaned in close. "My rules."

She felt a shiver down her spine, and she loathed herself for it. Her heart was hammering against her ribs. There was something else in the air between them that made her want to hate him, to detest everything about him. Something dangerous. Something exciting.

Francesca straightened her back, attempting to get her mind back in check. "Dante, I will not let you control me."

"We'll see." His tone was solemn, deep, and full of promise.

Desperate to get out of the stuffy, oppressive atmosphere in the room, she pivoted on her heel and marched toward the door. But his voice stopped her cold, right before she got to the exit. "Francesca!" "One more thing." She froze, afraid to look back. Softly but sternly, Dante threatened, "your father's debt will be paid in blood if you ever tried to flee."

Her heart dropped, and she clenched her fists. Without a word, she opened the door and stepped into the hall, her mind spinning, her chest tight.

But even as she walked away, she couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of something far more dangerous than she had ever imagined.

And she wasn't sure if she was ready for it.