Chapter 2 Luciano's POV

There was blood on my cuff again.

I stared at the tiny speck of crimson blooming against the pristine white of my shirt, as if the fabric itself had rebelled against me. Annoyed, I flicked my wrist, inspecting the damage. It would need to be burned. Alessandro would complain, as he always does, about my expensive taste and my apparent disregard for it.

The body slumped against the chair across from me let out a final, pitiful wheeze before collapsing entirely. His head lolled to the side, eyes wide and vacant, mouth frozen mid-plea.

Pathetic.

I rose from my seat, careful to avoid stepping in the pool of blood beginning to seep across the concrete floor. The warehouse stank of sweat, metal, and fear - the same cocktail of scents that has clung to me since I was old enough to understand what power truly meant.

"You didn't have to kill him," Alessandro said from the doorway, arms folded, his dark brows knitted in disapproval.

I pulled a cigarette from the silver case in my pocket, lighting it with a flick of my lighter. The smoke curled around me, a slow, lazy exhale.

"He broke his word," I said simply, as if that explained everything.

Alessandro sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "There were other ways."

"There are always other ways," I agreed, rolling the cigarette between my fingers. "But this one sends a clearer message."

In our world, clarity was everything.

He didn't argue further, he knew better.

Instead, he watched silently as I shrugged off my blood-spattered jacket and handed it to one of the waiting men.

"Burn it," I instructed without looking at him. "And the body."

"Yes, sir."

The man scurried off, leaving me and Alessandro alone with the thick silence.

I turned toward the windows. The city lay beyond - sprawling, glittering, full of secrets.

My city.

My kingdom.

I've been in control of this city ever since my father stepped down.

Power, control and legacy.

These were the pillars of my existence. The things I have been bred for. But lately, there was something else. Something softer and more dangerous.

Aria Moretti.

The ghost of Aria's face floated behind my closed eyelids - soft, sweet, unaware of the chaos she had ignited inside me.

I still remember the first time I saw her - six months ago, at a club. The most beautiful girl I've ever seen. She looked like she didn't belong there, but tried to fit into the loud music and chattering.

She was wearing a pale blue dress that clung modestly to her curves, her hair a simple river of brown, cascading down her back. No jewelries or flashy makeup, just purity and innocence.

I had watched her from across the room, unable - unwilling - to look away.

While everyone else melted into a blur, she had stood out like a candle in a dark cathedral.

That day something inside me shifted.

A want, no - a need. Bone-deep and unshakable.

Aria.

Her name tasted like sin in my mouth.

I have spent the last months observing her. She was tucked away in the crumbling part of the city, living a miserable life under the thumb of a drunken fool who called himself her father.

She doesn't know I exist yet. But soon, she will be mine whether she likes it or not.

Alessandro's voice broke through my reverie.

"You're thinking about her again."

It wasn't a question.

I glanced over my shoulder at him, inhaling deeply from my cigarette.

"She's different."

"She's dangerous." Alessandro countered.

I chuckled lowly. "She's a slip of a girl, trapped in a miserable life. What's dangerous about that?"

"You," he said pointedly. "You're dangerous when you're reckless. And obsession makes men reckless, Luciano."

I flicked ash onto the concrete, studying the ember with lazy fascination.

"I'm never reckless," I said smoothly.

Alessandro raised an eyebrow. "No? You killed a man tonight for speaking out of turn. You're planning God knows what to drag a girl you barely know into our world."

"I know enough," I said, my voice sharp enough to cut.

He stared at me for a long beat, then sighed again -the heavy, resigned sound of a man who knew arguing was useless.

"What's the plan?" he asked eventually.

I crushed the cigarette under my boot, savoring the final hiss as the ember died.

"I'll make her an offer," I said, voice low and deliberate. "One she can't refuse."

"And if she does?"

I smiled, slow and cold.

"She won't."

Because people like Aria don't have choices, not in a world ruled by men like me.

Alessandro muttered something under his breath in Italian - a prayer, maybe, or a curse.

I strode past him without looking back, my mind already whirring with possibilities.

Soon, the life she knows would end and she'll be by my side even if I have to burn the world to make it so.

*****

The casino thrummed with life - velvet curtains draped the walls, the low hum of conversation wrapped around the clink of glasses, and the spinning roulette wheels sang like sirens. It was just another night in my empire. Another night pretending to be entertained by fools throwing away their fortunes for fleeting thrills.

I stood at the upper balcony, overlooking the chaos, a glass of whiskey untouched in my hand. Alessandro lingered a few paces behind me, his arms crossed, ever the silent watchdog.

Movement by the entrance caught my eye. I stiffened, glass halfway to my lips.

Vicenzo Moretti.

Aria's pathetic excuse of a father stumbled through the doors, reeking of desperation even from this distance. His shirt was wrinkled, hair mussed, and his eyes - greedy, hungry, and reckless - darted around the room, already calculating how fast he could lose whatever pitiful cash he'd scrounged together.

I smiled coldly.

Fate has just dealt me an unexpected gift.

Alessandro noticed the shift in my posture and stepped forward.

"Problem?" he asked slowly.

I shook my head, setting the glass down on the polished oak railing.

"No, Ale. Opportunity."

He followed my gaze, immediately catching sight of Vicenzo at the blackjack table, already waving a few bills arrogantly at the dealer.

"You know who that is," Alessandro said, a statement, not a question.

"I do," I murmured, voice tight with satisfaction. "Aria's father."

Alessandro tensed.

"Luciano... whatever you're thinking, be careful. This obsession-"

I turned to him with a sharp and humorless smile. "I'm always careful. Besides..." I looked back down at Vicenzo fumbling with his chips, sweat already beading at his temple. "He just walked into my den willingly. I'd be a fool not to seize the moment."

Without waiting for Alessandro's protest, I descended the sweeping staircase.

The crowd parted instinctively - the weight of my name, my presence, enough to silence the air around me. I approached Vicenzo slowly, savoring the way he looked up and immediately went still, sensing - even in his drunken stupor - that I wasn't just another patron.

"Care for a real game?" I asked casually, sliding into the seat across from him.

Vicenzo blinked, confused.

"And who the hell are you?"

The dealer froze mid-shuffle. A few nearby players stiffened. I let the insult slide, my expression unbothered.

"Someone who can make or break your night." I leaned forward slightly, voice dropping. "High stakes. One-on-one. Unless you're afraid."

Vicenzo's pride - what little he had - bristled at the challenge. Exactly as I intended.

He barked a laugh, trying to puff himself up. "Afraid? Of you?"

I smiled thinly. "Prove it."

Within minutes, we were dealt in. Poker - a fitting game for the lies and bluffs about to unfold.

The first few rounds were easy. I let him win small hands deliberately, feeding his ego, watching greed bloom in his bloodshot eyes.

He bet bigger. I matched him effortlessly, casually throwing in chips worth more than his monthly earnings. Sweat rolled down his temple. His hands shook as he reached for his whiskey, gulping it down too fast.

And then - when the pot was obscenely large - I struck.

A perfect hand. Impossible to beat.

He didn't know it yet, but his fate was sealed.

He pushed the last of his money into the pot with trembling fingers, a cocky grin plastered sloppily across his face.

"Show me your cards, amico," I drawled lazily.

Vicenzo slammed his cards down with a flourish, revealing a full house. He leaned back, smirking until I revealed mine.

Four of a kind.

The color drained from his face. The smirk shattered.

The dealer silently pushed the mountain of chips toward me. The spectators, sensing the impending disaster, discreetly drifted away.

"You owe me," I said softly, each word deliberate.

Vicenzo gaped at the empty space where his money had been.

"I-I don't have that kind of cash-"

I leaned closer, my voice a blade cloaked in velvet.

"Then we'll arrange something else."

His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. I rose to my feet, smoothing the lapels of my tailored jacket.

"Come to my office," I said, my tone brooking no argument. "We'll discuss your options."

Behind me, Alessandro sighed heavily, already knowing what I was planning even if he didn't approve. But I don't care.

Tonight, I just snared the key to unlocking what I want, and I will stop at nothing until she's mine.