Chapter 2 2.

The north wing of the estate stood heavy with the scent of old wood.

Elena sat on the edge of the silk-sheeted bed, her fingers digging into the fabric. Every time she closed her eyes, she was hunted by the flash of the gun and the girl in the red dress falling.

The guards were talking outside with low voices and hushed tones that vibrated with fear.

"He’s in a foul mood today," one whispered. "Did you see his face when the shipments were delayed?"

"I saw it," the second replied. "I also saw what he did to the guy who brought the news. Don Salvatore doesn't take 'no' for an answer. They say he’s the most ruthless Don Florence has seen in a century. Even the Russians won't cross the border into his territory anymore because they’re terrified of him."

"I was rumoured that he once burned down a whole club just to find one man who stole a watch," the first one added.

"He doesn't care about the money. What he cares about the disrespect. If you cross Don Salvatore Romano, believe me you’re already dead because it won't take him long to notice you’re still breathing."

Emma hugged herself, her heart hammering. Salvatore Romano, how highly the speak of him. And now, she was his "complication."

Suddenly, the hallway went silent.

Slow steady steps approached. They were heavy, and carried a rhythmic authority that made the floorboards groan in submission.

The door flong open.

Salvatore Romano stepped into the room. He was a mountain of a man, standing at least six-foot-three, his presence filling every corner of the space until Elena’s felt small and fragile.

He wore a black Italian suit with the fabric clinging to his broad shoulders and muscular frame. His hair was dark and his eyes—cold piercing blue.

The guards stood at the door, their heads bowed so low they were looking at their boots.

"Leave us," Salvatore said.

The guards didn't hesitate, before his gaze met the door again they hdisappeared, clicking the door shut with trembling hands.

Julian turned his gaze to Emma. He just watched her, his expression very cold. He walked toward her, and Elena scrambled back until her spine nearly hit the headboard.

"You haven't touched the water," he said, glancing at the crystal decanter on the table.

"I’m not thirsty," Elena snapped though her voice kept trembling. "I want to go home. You know I’m not the girl you wanted and you also saw her die."

"I saw a mistake being corrected," Salvatore said, his eyes narrowing. "You, however, are a different kind of problem. You’re a public figure, I'm sure you have friends in high places. That makes you a shield for me, and a target for my enemies."

"I don't want to be either!"

Salvatore leaned down, placing his hands on the bed on either side of her. He leaned was so close to make sure she could smell the expensive tobacco and the sharp scent of his cologne.

"In this city, you are whatever I say you are."

---

An hour later, the door opened again. But it wasn't Salvatore.

"Don Salvatore wants you moved," a guard said. He looked nervous, his eyes darting toward the security cameras.

"There’s been a security breach so we have to take the back exit."

Elena frowned. "But…he said I was to stay here."

"The situation changed. Move, Now."

Elenaa was led through the winding back corridors of the estate and the air grew colder as they descended toward the service garage. A black van was idling, its side door open.

"Get in," the guard hissed.

As soon as she stepped inside, Elena realized something was wrong. The men inside weren't wearing the Salvatore family crest, the even looked different.

"You the one?" one of them asked, holding up a phone with her picture on it. "The boss’s new toy?"

"Where is Don Salvatore?" Elenaa demanded, trying to back out, but the guard shoved her inside and slammed the door.

The van roared to life. Elena saw the estate disappear and she knew she wasn't being moved for safety but was being stolen.

The van wound through the dark, industrial outskirts of Florence, eventually pulling into a derelict warehouse by the river. The men dragged her out, her heels scraping against the gravel.

"The lady said to make it look like a rival hit," a man with a scarred neck said, pulling a long knife from his belt. "She wants the Don to see her body and think his enemies got to her. Teach him a lesson about keeping strays."

"Who?" Elenaa gasped. "Who sent you?"

"Someone who used to have his bed before you showed up, sweetheart."

The man stepped forward, the blade glinting under the dim warehouse lights. Elena backed away, her heart screaming in her chest. She hit a wall of crates, trapped with no escape nearby. Just as the man lunged, the warehouse’s massive metal doors opened.

A black SUV roared into the space, tires screeching as it drifted into a halt, sending dust and gravel flying.

The door flew open before the car had even fully stopped. Don Salvatore Romano stepped out with a silver handgun in each hand. He didn't look like a businessman anymore but looked like the god of death.

"Drop it!" Salvatore roared.

The kidnappers turned but Salvatore Romano moved with a terrifying, predatory speed. Bang. Bang. Two men fell before they could even raise their weapons. The man with the knife grabbed Elena, pulling her in front of him as a shield and pressing the blade to her throat.

"Stay back, Salvatore!" the man screamed. "I’ll kill her! I swear to God!"

Salvatore stopped. He lowered his guns slightly, his eyes turning into chips of ice. The silence in the warehouse was deafening only broken only by Elena’s shallow, terrified breathing.

"You think you can use her against me?" Salvatore asked, his voice deathly quiet. "Do you think you’re the first person to try and take something that belongs to me?"

"I’ll do it!" the man yelled, his hand shaking.

"If you nick her skin, I will spend the next three days peeling yours off while you’re still awake," Salvatore said. The guy who held Elena realised it wasn't a threat but a promise.

The kidnapper flickered and that one second of doubt was all Salvatore needed. He fired a single shot, his bullet grazed the man’s ear, the shock of it making him flinch. In that heartbeat, Salvatore was across the floor grabbing the man’s wrist and snapping it like a dry twig, and threw him across the room.

The man hit the concrete with a sickening thud. Salvatore didn't even look at him but turned to Emma.

She was shaking so hard she couldn't stand, her knees gave out, and she began to slide down the wall. Salvatore caught her just before she hit the ground. His large hands gripped her shoulders, pulling her up against his hard, solid chest.

"Are you hurt?" he demanded.

"No," she whispered, her voice cracking. "You... you killed them."

"They touched what was mine," Salvatore growled.

He looked down at her, his face inches from hers. His adrenaline was rolling off him in waves and he couldn't let go. Instead, his grip tightened, his fingers digging into the silk of her dress.

"I’m not yours," Elenaa sobbed, trying to push him away. "I’m not a thing! Just Let me go!"

She tried to twist out of his arms, her feet slipping on the dusty floor. She made it two steps toward the door before Julian’s hand shot out, grabbing her arm and spinning her back around. He slammed her gently but firmly against the side of his SUV, pinning her there with his body.

"Look at me," he commanded.

Elena looked up, her eyes swimming with tears. The fear was there, but beneath it, her heart was racing for a reason she didn't want to admit. His heat was everywhere, his scent of woodsmoke and expensive steel filling her lungs.

"You don't understand the rules of this world, Elena," Salvatore said, his voice dropping to a low, possessive rasp. "Out there, you’re a name on a screen, but In here, you are a marked woman. I will find who sent these men, and by my blood I'll make them pay."

Salvatore leaned in, his lips hovering just a breath away from her ear. "You’re a Moretti and you matter more than you know. But more importantly..."

He moved his hand to her throat, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. His touch was firm, strongly claiming every inch of her.

"You belong to me now," he whispered. “ No one else is allowed to touch you, No one else looks at you and do you understand?"

Elena felt a shiver run down her spine that wasn't just fear. It was a dark, magnetic pull, a realization that she was being swallowed by a world she couldn't escape.

"I hate you," she breathed.

A small, dark smirk appeared on Salvatore’s lips. But he didn't look offended, he looked very hungry.

"Hate me all you want," he said, opening the car door and practically lifting her into the passenger seat. "But you will stay by my side and If you run, I will find you. If you hide, I will burn the city down to see yo

ur f

ace."

He slammed the door and walked around to the driver's side, his car engine roared to life.

"You're coming with me," he said as they sped back toward the city lights.