Chapter 1 Blood and Velvet

The villa loomed ahead like a predator in the dark-stone walls cloaked in ivy, windows glowing faintly gold in the dying light. Emilia Rossi stepped out of the black Maserati with the slow, deliberate grace of someone used to being watched.

Her heels sank into the gravel before she reached the marble steps. She didn't flinch, didn't falter. The slit in her crimson dress teased up her thigh with every step. She let it. This wasn't a visit-it was an entrance.

The door opened before she could knock.

"Miss Rossi," the butler intoned, dressed in black like he was mourning. "Mr. Moretti is expecting you. This way."

Of course he was.

As she was led through the grand corridors, the air was heavy with the scent of aged leather, expensive cologne, and something subtler-gunpowder, maybe. The villa whispered secrets. It had seen power plays, blood oaths, maybe even murders.

And now, her.

They stopped at two towering double doors.

"He's inside," the butler murmured, then vanished like a ghost.

Emilia didn't hesitate. She pushed the doors open.

Inside, Alessandro Moretti sat like a king in his fortress. A single glass of whiskey rested near his hand. The fireplace crackled behind him, casting shadows across his sharp cheekbones and salt-and-pepper hair. He didn't stand. He didn't need to.

His presence hit her like a fist-powerful, cold, magnetic.

"You're late," he said.

"And you're old," she replied, gliding toward the chair opposite him. "But I hear you still have your teeth."

A pause.

Then, the corner of his mouth lifted. Not quite a smile. More like amusement with a knife edge.

He gestured toward the chair.

"Let's talk about our arrangement."

She sat, crossing one leg over the other, deliberately showing off the slit in her dress. "You want a fiancée. I want security. Luxury. An upgrade."

"Honesty. How rare." He swirled the whiskey in his glass. "But you'll have to be more than just pretty."

She leaned forward. "I'm more than pretty. I know how to play a role. I can make the press fall in love with me, make your enemies underestimate me, and make your allies jealous. I can wear diamonds like armor. Smile like I'm in love. Lie like I was born for it."

His eyes narrowed, studying her like a puzzle he wasn't sure he wanted to solve.

"You'll move into the villa," he said. "Tonight. There will be media appearances. Dinners. Kisses for the cameras. I expect obedience in public."

"And in private?" she asked, voice like silk wrapped around steel.

"In private, I expect silence," he said. "And loyalty."

Loyalty. That word meant something different in his world. It meant blood and bullets.

"I want fifty thousand upfront," Emilia said. "And monthly deposits after. A wardrobe budget. Jewelry allowance. And I pick the engagement ring."

Alessandro stared at her. "Done."

She blinked.

"Just like that?"

"I'm not in the business of wasting time."

He rose from his chair then, tall and lethal. He came around the desk and stopped in front of her, closer than necessary.

"You'll wear my name," he said softly. "But you'll also wear a target. My enemies will see you as a weakness. So I need to know-are you as unbreakable as you look?"

She met his gaze without flinching. "Try me."

A beat. Then he turned away, tossing a folder onto the desk.

"The contract. Read it. Sign it. We go public in forty-eight hours."

She picked up the folder, thumbing through it briefly. The terms were strict. Clauses about discretion, public behavior, image maintenance. One line stood out:

No romantic entanglements outside of this arrangement.

She smiled.

Too late.

Because she already felt the spark. The danger. The pull. And she hadn't even signed the damn thing yet.

As she pulled a pen from her clutch, her fingers brushed a faded scar across her ribs, hidden beneath silk. A reminder. Of who she used to be. Of what she'd survived.

She signed her name like a dare.

When she looked up, Alessandro was watching her. Not with warmth. Not with lust.

With calculation.

"You'll be staying in the east wing," he said. "Your room is ready."

"Our room?" she asked innocently.

He gave nothing away. "Not yet."

She rose from the chair and walked past him, deliberately brushing her shoulder against his arm. Just enough to feel the tension coil beneath his skin.

She didn't turn back as the doors closed behind her.

But her smile lingered.

Let the game begin.