Owned By The Underworld

If Mr. Romano yelled at me one more time, I might throw hot coffee in his face.

"You call this clean?" he barked, smacking the table I'd just wiped. "Customers should see their reflections on this wood, Isla!"

I smiled sweetly, though my jaw ached from holding back words that would definitely get me fired.

"Yes, Mr. Romano."

When he finally stalked off to torment someone else, Gianna leaned over the counter, grinning.

"You're gonna kill that man one day," she whispered.

I sighed. "Not today. I need my paycheck."

"You also need a boyfriend who doesn't make your life more complicated."

My head snapped toward her. "Don't start."

"What? I'm just saying." She grinned wickedly. "He's Luca Moretti. You're dating the future Don of the biggest crime family in the city. Do you even hear yourself?"

"You promised not to say his name out loud," I hissed, glancing toward the customers.

Gianna rolled her eyes. "Relax. No one here cares. But you're smiling like a lovesick fool, so I can guess where you're going tonight."

I tried to look casual, but a smile tugged at my lips. "He's taking me to dinner. Somewhere near the pier."

Gianna gasped. "The red dress?"

I nodded.

"Oh, he's not surviving tonight."

I swatted her with my cleaning rag, laughing despite myself.

When my shift finally ended, I ran home. The apartment was empty - my cousin was still out of town - so I showered, put on the red dress, and tried not to overthink.

Luca's car was waiting when I came downstairs. Black and sleek, with tinted windows that screamed trouble.

He was leaning against it, sleeves rolled, dark hair pushed back like he'd just come from a meeting.

"Bellissima," he said, eyes traveling down the length of me.

"You're late," I teased, but I was smiling.

"You're perfect," he said simply, opening the car door for me.

Dinner was perfect too. The restaurant was all warm lighting and soft music, Luca leaning across the table to pour my wine.

"You should quit that job," he said.

"And do what? Sit at home all day waiting for you to call?"

He smirked. "I'd pay you to sit at home and wait for me."

I rolled my eyes, but my heart fluttered. Luca could be arrogant, but he made me feel wanted, seen.

After dinner, we walked along the pier. His hand brushed mine, warm and steady.

Then his phone buzzed.

He glanced at the screen, frowning. "Business," he said, tone sharp.

"Go."

He kissed me quickly before stepping away, phone to his ear.

I wandered toward the convenience store, thinking I'd grab gum. That was when I heard it - shouting, harsh and fast, echoing from the alley.

Curiosity got the better of me. I peeked around the corner.

A man was on his knees, crying out in Italian, hands raised. Another man stood over him - tall, broad, dressed in a black suit that probably cost more than my rent.

The gunshot split the night.

I froze, every muscle locking.

The man fell back, blood spilling across the concrete.

I gasped - too loud.

The man with the gun turned, and for one terrifying moment our eyes locked.

Then his voice cut through the air, calm and cold:

"Take her."

Two men appeared from the shadows like they'd been waiting for that order.

I ran.

I didn't think - just turned and bolted down the street, heart slamming in my chest.

But they were faster.

A rough hand grabbed my arm, yanking me back so hard I nearly fell. I screamed and swung at him, nails scratching across his face.

He cursed and shoved me against the wall.

"Let me go!" I kicked, my heel slamming into his shin.

For a second I thought I'd actually hurt him - but then the other man grabbed me, pinning my arms to my sides.

I thrashed and bit at his shoulder, tasting sweat and salt.

"Little wildcat," he muttered.

The man with the gun - the one who had just killed someone - walked closer, unhurried, his expression unreadable.

"You saw too much, bella," he said softly, crouching so we were eye-level.

"I won't tell anyone," I gasped, still struggling.

He smiled, slow and dangerous.

"You're right. You won't."

And then they dragged me to the car.

I kicked, clawed, screamed - but they threw me inside like I weighed nothing.

He slid in after me, smooth and calm, adjusting his cufflinks as though nothing had happened.

My chest heaved. "Who the hell are you?"

"Matteo DeLuca," he said simply.

The name hit me like a punch. I'd heard it before. Everyone in this city had.

He was worse than Luca.

He was untouchable.

"You can't just take me!"

He tilted his head, almost amused. "I already did."

The car pulled away, and my stomach dropped.

I'd fought, I'd screamed, I'd run.

And it hadn't mattered.

I don't know how long we drove.

Minutes, hours - all I could hear was the pounding in my ears and Matteo's calm, steady breathing beside me.

"Where are you taking me?" I finally asked, my voice hoarse.

"Somewhere safe."

"Safe?" I laughed bitterly. "You just shot a man in the head. Forgive me if I don't feel very safe right now."

Matteo's mouth curved, like he almost found that funny.

"You're safer with me than with anyone else tonight."

"Let me out."

"No."

My hands curled into fists. "You can't keep me forever."

He turned his head slowly, his eyes catching mine in the dim light of the car. "Wanna bet?"

I looked away, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me flinch.

The car rolled through tall gates and up a winding driveway until it stopped in front of a house - no, a mansion.

One of the men opened the door. I didn't move.

Matteo glanced at me. "You can walk, or they can drag you. Your choice."

I climbed out, my legs shaking.

Inside, the house was beautiful - marble floors, high ceilings, chandeliers that sparkled. It should have felt luxurious. It felt like a prison.

"Upstairs," Matteo said.

I stopped. "No."

He arched a brow. "No?"

"I'm not going anywhere until you explain what's happening."

For a moment, he just stared at me, and the room felt very, very quiet.

Then he smiled - slow, dark, and not entirely kind. "You've got a mouth on you."

"Sorry to disappoint," I said, my chin tilting up.

He stepped closer, and every nerve in my body went tight.

"You saw something tonight," he said softly. "That means you're a liability. And I don't like liabilities."

I swallowed. "So what? You're gonna kill me?"

His thumb brushed over my jaw, slow and deliberate. "Not yet."

The words made my stomach flip. Not from fear - or maybe not just from fear.

He turned, walking toward the stairs. "Come on. I don't like repeating myself."

I stayed put.

One of his men moved toward me, but Matteo lifted a hand, stopping him.

"She comes willingly," he said without looking back.

I hated that a part of me wanted to follow, just to get away from those other men's eyes.

The room he took me to was bigger than my entire apartment - a king-size bed, floor-to-ceiling windows, silk curtains.

"This is kidnapping," I said, spinning to face him.

"This is protection."

"I don't need your protection."

He smiled faintly. "You need it more than you think."

"Luca will come looking for me," I said before I could stop myself.

That got a reaction. His smile vanished. "Luca Moretti?"

My stomach dropped.

"Interesting," he murmured, stepping closer until I had to back up. "So that's who you were waiting for tonight."

"Leave him out of this," I said quickly.

Matteo tilted his head. "You care about him."

"He's my boyfriend."

Matteo's laugh was low and humorless. "Not anymore."

"You don't get to decide that!"

His eyes met mine, dark and unreadable. "Everything you do from this point on, bella, is decided by me."

"Go to hell."

For a moment, silence. Then Matteo actually laughed - a real one this time, deep and low.

"You've got fight in you," he said. "Good. It makes this more fun."

"Fun?" I repeated, disbelieving.

"Go to bed, Isla."

"I'm not tired."

He leaned closer, his breath warm on my ear. "That wasn't a suggestion."

I stayed rooted to the floor, glaring.

His lips curved in that infuriating, calm smile again. "Suit yourself. But you won't leave this room."

And then he was gone, the lock clicking behind him.

I waited until I heard footsteps fade, then went to the window.

Too high to jump.

I tried the door. Locked.

I kicked it anyway. "You can't keep me here!"

No answer.

"Do you hear me? I'm not some pet you can keep on a leash!"

Somewhere down the hall, I heard his low chuckle.

And that scared me more than the silence.

I didn't sleep.

How could I, knowing I was locked in a stranger's mansion with the man who'd just shot someone?

When the first hint of dawn lightened the sky, I had a plan.

It was stupid, sure, but it was all I had.

I waited until I heard footsteps outside - one of his men bringing breakfast.

The moment the door cracked open, I shoved it hard and slipped through, nearly knocking the tray from his hands.

"Hey!" he barked, but I was already running.

Bare feet pounding the marble, heart racing, I flew down the hall and toward the stairs.

I didn't care where I was going - as long as it was away from here.

I made it to the ground floor before a voice stopped me cold.

"Going somewhere?"

Matteo.

He was leaning against the wall near the front door, barefoot, shirtless, tattoos stark against his skin. His hair was mussed, like he'd just rolled out of bed.

And he looked amused.

I skidded to a stop. "Move."

He didn't.

"Isla," he said, his voice low, calm, infuriatingly calm. "You're making my morning very interesting."

"Good. Now get out of my way."

He pushed off the wall and walked toward me, slow, deliberate, like a lion circling prey.

"Do you know what happens to people who run from me?" he asked softly.

"I'm not your prisoner."

His brows lifted. "You think you're free?"

"I think I have a right to decide where I go."

He stopped inches from me, so close I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.

"You saw me kill a man, bella," he said. "You think I can let you walk out that door?"

"I told you, I won't say anything!"

His jaw flexed. "And you expect me to trust you?"

"Yes!"

He studied me for a long, tense moment, then laughed - low, dark, not unkind but not soft either.

"You're fearless," he said. "Or stupid. I can't tell which."

"Maybe both," I snapped.

He stepped even closer, until my back brushed the wall.

"You think I won't hurt you," he said quietly.

"You won't."

His mouth curved in a slow, dangerous smile. "Why not?"

"Because men like you don't kill people like me," I said, my voice steady despite the racing of my heart.

His gaze darkened. "And what kind of person are you?"

"The kind you'd regret killing."

We stood there, staring at each other, the silence thick enough to choke on.

Then he leaned in, his lips near my ear.

"Run again," he murmured. "I dare you."

My breath caught.

I didn't move.

He straightened, still watching me.

"Go back upstairs," he said.

"No."

One brow arched. "No?"

"I want to call Luca."

"Denied."

"You can't just cut me off from everyone!"

"I can do whatever I want."

"You're a control freak."

He actually smiled at that, sharp and amused. "Yes."

"God, you're impossible."

"Good thing I like impossible women."

For some reason, that shut me up more than anything else he'd said.

When I didn't move, he reached past me and opened the door to the stairs.

"Last chance, bella. Go up on your own, or I'll carry you."

"You wouldn't dare."

He smirked. "Try me."

I went.

But I didn't stop glaring at him the entire way up.

Back in the room, I slammed the door behind me, even though I knew he'd locked it again from the outside.

My heart was still pounding, my palms sweaty.