Chapter 1

My life changed the night my father's PTSD caused a terrible accident. I thought the worst thing I would face was watching him fall apart, but I was wrong. His mistake put me in the hands of Nico Romano-the man everyone in Chicago fears, the man whose name is whispered like a curse in the criminal world. I was taken as payment for a debt I didn't owe. Nico didn't give me a choice. He said my life now belonged to him, and from that moment on, I became his captive. His rules were sharp as chains, his voice like fire and ice, and his touch... his touch confused me more than anything else. It hurt, it punished, and yet it left me trembling for more. At first, I fought him with everything I had. I hated his power, his arrogance, the way he looked at me like he already owned me. But the more I tried to resist, the more I found myself caught in something dangerous-something I couldn't understand. Because under all the darkness, there were moments when I saw something else in Nico. Now I don't know what scares me more-being trapped in his world of crime and shadows, or my heart saying otherwise. Enemies are closing in, secrets are being revealed, and every step with Nico pulls me deeper into a storm I may never escape. But one truth is clear: in this world, survival is no longer my only fight. I have to decide if I can trust the man who took everything from me... or if love can really grow in the darkest place of all.

He's ruthless. He's married. He's forbidden. And he just became mine! Alexander DeLuca isn't just a billionaire-he's the most feared Mafia Lord in New York. Cold, untouchable, and bound by an arranged marriage he never wanted. Alexander has one weakness; the dark cravings he satisfies at Paradise, the exclusive club where women sell their bodies and their souls. That's where he found me Camilla. A dancer hired not only to tempt him but to destroy him. My job was simple; seduce the King, infiltrate his empire, and bring him to his knees. But Alexander doesn't bend. He breaks. And when he marks me as his personal obsession, I realize I've walked straight into a cage with a predator. His wife wants me gone. His enemies want me dead. And Alexander? He wants me dancing in chains-his chains. In a game of desire, betrayal, and deadly secrets, I'm about to learn the truth. You don't play with the Mafia Daddy. You obey him... Or you burn!

The man I was about to marry was going to kill my father. I just didn't know it yet. I thought my wedding to the ruthless Don, Dante De Luca, was a love match that would finally bring peace between our warring families. But at the altar, instead of a ring, he revealed our engagement was a lie. It was a long con to avenge his aunt-my own mother-whom my senator father had secretly murdered. Then he shot my father dead in front of me. I was wounded trying to stop him and woke up his prisoner. The man I loved told me our entire relationship was just "business." He abandoned me to his new partner, a woman named Isabella, who made it clear I was nothing more than a loose end. He cut off all contact, erasing me completely, leaving me alone as the tainted daughter of a dead drug lord they called 'The Scorpion.' My whole life was a lie. My mother had been a spy for the enemy family she married into. My father was a monster. And Dante, my fiancé-my own cousin-had meticulously used my love to destroy everything I had ever known. So I let Alessia Gallo die. I disappeared and became Alma, a ghost in the cartel underworld, determined to finish the mission my mother started. Years later, he walked into my cantina, a man on a mission. He didn't recognize the hardened woman I'd become, and this time, he was the one walking into my trap.

My fiancé, the Underboss of the DeLuca Crime Family, promised he would burn the world down for me. But when my mother was dying in the hospital, he chose a ski trip with another woman. It was that woman's dog that attacked my mother, but when I called him, shaking, he was annoyed. He was in Aspen with Isabella, and I could hear her laughing in the background. He dismissed my mother's injuries as a "minor scrape" and told me not to "make a big deal out of this." While my mother's fever spiked, he ignored my desperate pleas. Instead, my phone lit up with an Instagram post of him and Isabella smiling by a fireplace, sipping hot chocolate. My mother slipped into septic shock. That picture was a public declaration, a judgment on my mother's worth, and my own. A cold fury burned away every last bit of love I had for him. She died at 3:17 a.m. I held her hand until it was cold, then walked out of the hospital and called the one number I was never supposed to use-the number for my father. "She's dead," I said. "I'm coming to Chicago. I'm leaving this life, and I'm going to burn his world to the ground."

For eight years, I was raised to be his queen. My entire world was built on the promise that I would marry Dante Moretti, the future Don of the city's most powerful family. But on the eve of our betrothal, I overheard his plan. He was going to cast me aside for another woman, Isabella, and a street orphan he would pass off as his heir. He publicly humiliated me at his party, introducing her as his true queen. When a crystal chandelier fell from the ceiling, he used his own body to shield her, leaving me to be crushed beneath it. Later, after falsely accusing me of attacking her, he shoved my head under the freezing water of a pool, hissing that my love for him was "disgusting." But the truth that finally destroyed me was worse. For ten years, Dante had been obsessed with a scent he thought was mine. It was all a lie-a custom perfume Isabella had been wearing all along. I was never the one he wanted; I was just a case of mistaken identity. After he broke my bones and shattered my spirit, I finally made a choice. I accepted my brother's offer to escape to the rival Falcone territory. As our jet prepared for takeoff, I blocked Dante's frantic calls without looking back. This time, I was leaving for good.

My fiancé, a mafia Capo, promised the painkillers would help after the "car crash." It was a lie. The real accident was his temper, and I was his favorite punching bag. In a medicated haze, I overheard the truth. He was on the phone with his consigliere, boasting about stealing my billion-dollar casino blueprint. He was going to use it to become Underboss. He planned to propose, then use our world's code of silence to legally gag me from ever claiming my own work. His mistress, Olivia, would be the public face of the project. The worst part was the truth about my miscarriage. It wasn't an accident. He and Olivia had orchestrated it, calling our baby a "complication" that would kill his ambition. At a party, he proved it all. After shoving me to the ground in front of everyone, he walked away with her, leaving me in a heap of humiliation. The love I had for him didn't just die; it turned into a cold, hard certainty. He had taken my work, my child, and my dignity. So I sent him one last email: a file containing proof of every lie, every betrayal, and a video of his abuse. The subject line read: "My Wedding Gift." Then I boarded a one-way flight to New York to partner with the one man he truly feared. This wasn't a breakup. It was war.