Chapter 2 The rival and the rose

The rain had dried, but tension still hung heavy over Palermo like the scent of gunpowder after a duel. Elena De Luca hadn't returned Leonardo Vitale's calls for three days. For a man accustomed to immediate obedience, this silence gnawed at him more viciously than any rival's bullet. He stood in his study, flanked by towering bookshelves and shadows, rereading her last message: "If I walk your path, Leo, will I lose myself?"

He didn't know the answer. Perhaps because deep down, he feared he already had.

Across the city, in a penthouse overlooking the harbor, another man watched the unfolding drama with wolfish patience. Matteo Romano - the heir to the Romano family, Vitale's greatest rival - had been in love with Elena De Luca since their university days in Rome. She was the one woman who had ever told him "no," and it had haunted him ever since. When word reached him that she'd been seen dancing with Leonardo Vitale, something primal stirred within him.

And Matteo was not a man who liked to lose. Not to anyone. Especially not to a man like Leonardo.

Matteo had known Elena before she became a symbol, before she was the judge's daughter. They'd studied political science together, argued in lectures, kissed once in Florence beneath a bridge soaked in golden lamplight. But she had drawn a line - and walked away. Matteo had respected her for it, but he had never forgiven her either. Now, with the blood-stained king of Palermo sniffing at her door, Matteo saw an opportunity. Not just for revenge. For conquest.

Meanwhile, Elena paced her modest apartment above a flower shop owned by a family friend. Her mind churned. She had never been reckless - at least not until Leonardo. The moment he'd confessed his identity, the world tilted. Logic screamed at her to run, but her heart, traitorous and wild, clung to the memory of his eyes in the garden, the way he spoke of poetry as if it were a language of survival. She knew the headlines: the assassinations, the vendettas, the corruption sewn into the veins of the city. But the man she met that night hadn't been a monster.

Or maybe that's what made him so dangerous.

Her father, Judge Roberto De Luca, had already warned her once.

"I know men like him, Elena," he'd said over espresso in the kitchen. "They don't love the way we do. They devour. And when they're done, they leave only bones."

But even Judge De Luca couldn't ignore how his daughter's face softened when she heard Leonardo's name.

That evening, a knock sounded at her door. She expected a florist. Instead, it was Matteo.

"Matteo," she said, startled. "What are you-"

"I was nearby," he lied smoothly, his Armani coat still dripping from the misty evening. "Thought I'd check on you. I heard rumors."

Elena frowned. "You came to interrogate me?"

"No." He stepped inside uninvited. "I came to remind you who you used to be."

She crossed her arms. "And who's that?"

He smiled, charming and hollow. "The woman who once told me she wanted to change the world, not fall into bed with the man breaking it."

His words cut, but not deep enough to draw blood. Still, they stung.

"Elena," Matteo continued, "he will ruin you. That man's soul is soaked in blood. You can't love someone like that and come out clean."

"And you?" she asked sharply. "You're a Romano. Your family runs guns and launders money through children's hospitals."

"I've never pretended to be a saint," Matteo said. "But I'm not pretending with you, either. I still care about you. And I won't watch you throw yourself to the wolves."

"I'm not yours to save," she said.

Matteo stepped closer, brushing a wet lock of hair from her face. "Maybe not. But I still remember what it felt like when you believed in me. Doesn't he deserve the same scrutiny you gave me?"

Before she could answer, her phone buzzed. One name flashed on the screen: Leo.

Matteo's jaw clenched.

"I should go," he muttered, stepping back.

Elena didn't stop him.

Once alone, she stared at the phone. She didn't answer. Not yet.