Chapter 2 Blood in the velvet

* CHAPTER TWO: Blood in the Velvet

Elena Rivers wasn't used to being watched.

Or, at least, not *noticed*. She blended in well-intentionally so. Quiet cardigan colors, neatly tied hair, notebooks always pressed close to her chest. Her world was measured in library hours and scheduled silence.

But ever since the gallery night, that feeling-*eyes* on her-wouldn't go away.

It started the next morning. At the corner bodega, the barista called her by name before she ordered. She chalked it up to routine. But then, she spotted the man across the street again. Same coat. Same stillness. Then again outside Columbia's east gate. And again, outside her building.

She told herself it was coincidence.

Until the envelope came.

Matte black. No return address. Just her name in looping, expensive ink.

Inside: a folded card with an address and one sentence.

*"If you want answers, come. Midnight. Don't be followed."*

Her heart skipped. Her first instinct was to ignore it-burn it, maybe. But fear and curiosity twisted together into something irresistible.

Something like fate.

Midnight fell fast in New York. Elena wore black-not to blend in, but to feel braver. Each step toward the car waiting outside her apartment felt heavier than the last.

The driver didn't speak. Just nodded. She slipped inside.

For fifteen minutes, the city lights blurred by. But when the car turned onto a gated cobblestone street and pulled up before a towering townhouse, Elena's breath caught.

Two guards flanked the door.

And on the steps stood *him*.

Luciano Moretti.

No suit tonight. Just a dark turtleneck and coat, black leather gloves in one hand.

"You came," he said, voice quieter than she remembered. "Good."

"This is... not normal," she murmured.

"No," he agreed. "But neither are you."

He held the door open. The marble entryway swallowed her.

-

The inside of the Moretti house felt like walking into another world. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceilings. Antique furniture gleamed in low lighting. The scent of leather, cigar smoke, and something sharp-like gun oil-clung to the air.

And there were men. Quiet men. Standing guard in corners. Some in suits. Others in visible shoulder holsters. None smiled.

Elena slowed her steps. "Where *are* we?"

"My family's New York residence," Luciano replied. "One of several."

"So you... brought me here for a tour?"

"No. I brought you here to warn you."

He opened a heavy wooden door. Inside: a study, warm and dimly lit. A fire crackled softly. She stepped inside, hugging her arms to her chest.

Luciano closed the door and turned.

"I run a family business," he said, walking to the bar cart. "That business happens to be... complicated."

She didn't speak.

He poured two glasses of whiskey and handed one to her. She didn't take it.

"I don't drink with strangers," she whispered.

He smiled faintly. "Then let's fix that."

"Elena Rivers," she offered.

"Luciano Moretti."

Her brow lifted. "As in... *the* Moretti?"

His gaze didn't waver. "Yes."

She inhaled sharply. She *had* heard the name. On the news. Whispers. Rumors. Weapons trafficking, underground ties, unsolved deaths. Untouchable. Always powerful. Always *clean.*

"You're... mafia."

"I'm what's necessary."

Elena stepped back. "Then why am I here?"

"Because someone saw us together that night. They took a photo. They're asking questions about *you*."

Her blood ran cold.

"You're not in trouble. Not yet. But if you're not careful, you---."

"I'll disappear?" she snapped.

"No," he said softly. "*You'll die.*"

-

The words hung in the air.

Elena sat down slowly, her heart racing. "What do you mean, *die*?"

Luciano leaned forward. "I have enemies, Elena. Most I control. A few... I don't. You're a variable. And variables make people nervous."

Her breath trembled. "I didn't ask for this."

"I know. That's why I'm giving you a choice."

She looked at him.

"You can let me protect you. Keep you close. Until things settle."

"Or?"

"You go back to pretending this didn't happen. But if someone gets to you first..." He didn't finish.

Elena stared at the fire. Her hands shook.

"And what does 'keeping me close' mean exactly?"

His jaw tensed. "We'll say you're under my protection. My... guest. People won't question it. You'll stay in one of my properties. Someone will always be nearby. It's the only way to keep you off radar."

"Like a prisoner."

"No. Like an investment."

She shot him a look.

"Don't take offense. I'm protecting you because I want to. But I won't lie-I'm curious. About you."

"Because I dropped my books in the

rain?"

He stood. "Because you look at me like I'm not a monster."

She swallowed hard.

"...Are you?"

Luciano paused.

"I don't know, and I don't care to Know." he said.

-

Later that night, in a guest room bigger than her apartment, Elena stood by the window, staring down at the dark gardens.

This was insane. Impossible. Dangerous. Foolish.

Yet, a part of her didn't want to leave.

Not because of fear-but because of *him.*

She saw something behind his silver eyes. Something wounded. Something human, kind and something special.

And it terrified her more than the guns.

-

Across the hall, Luciano watched her through a security feed.

"She won't last long," Luca said beside him. "She's not built for this."

Luciano didn't respond.

Instead, he whispered to himself, barely enough for Luca to hear:

"Then I'll break the world before it breaks her, and protect her cause she is mine."

---

*........TO BE CONTINUED.........*