Chapter 1

The Opening Scene

I hated mafia meetings. The suits and cigars. The endless debates about territory, alliances, and who had more power than everyone else. I'd spent twenty-two years surrounded by violence, loyalty, and influence, yet somehow, I'd always felt like I didn't belong. Tonight was no different. My parents walked down the dimly lit corridor of the Corvelli estate as if they owned the world. Maybe they did. People feared my father. They respected my mother. Together, they ruled one of the most powerful crime families in the country.

And then there was me. Rain lashed against the tall windows as we made our way toward the conference room. I fought the urge to turn around and leave. I could be working on my painting right now. Or cooking. Or sleeping. Honestly, I would rather have been doing almost anything else. Unfortunately, a deal was a deal. A year ago, I'd convinced my parents to let me live my own life without a team of bodyguards shadowing my every move. In exchange, I had to attend important meetings whenever they asked. At the time, it had sounded reasonable. Now I wasn't so sure.

"You're going to have to learn this eventually, Samantha." My father's voice cut through my thoughts. "I don't want this business, Dad." His shoulders stiffened slightly. That was the only reaction I got. The rest of the walk passed in silence, accompanied only by our footsteps and the steady drum of rain against the windows. By the time we reached the conference room, I was in an even worse mood. One of the guards pulled open the heavy oak doors.

Conversation stopped instantly. The room was packed with powerful people. Expensive watches flashed beneath the lights. Cold eyes followed my parents as they entered. Men and women whose names carried weight in cities all over the world sat around the long black table.I barely noticed any of them. My attention locked on the man seated near the far end. He wasn't speaking. He didn't seem interested in speaking. He didn't have to. Everyone else seemed aware of him anyway. Power rolled off him so naturally it was impossible to ignore.

Then he looked at me. My breath caught. Annoyingly, inconveniently. He was attractive, sure. Anyone with functioning eyesight could see that. But that wasn't what unsettled me. It was the way he was looking at me. Like he'd been expecting me. Like he'd known I was coming before I walked through the door. The dark suit, the expensive watch, the calm expression. None of it hid the danger underneath. He looked like the kind of man parents warned their daughters about.

The kind of man sensible women avoided. So naturally, I couldn't stop staring. Neither could he. The room faded into the background. No conversations, no negotiations, no family. Just his eyes fixed on mine. A slow smile appeared at the corner of his mouth, not friendly,not mocking, just interested. Heat crept up my neck. Mateo Valenti. The Moscow Mafia Don. Every warning I'd ever heard about dangerous men came rushing back. The scary part wasn't that I should have been afraid. It was that I wasn't. Suddenly, the meeting seemed a lot more interesting.

"Let's get this meeting started, shall we?" my father said. The moment broke. I blinked and suddenly remembered where I was. A room full of crime bosses. Fantastic. Chairs scraped against the polished floor as everyone took their seats. I reluctantly dropped into the empty chair beside my mother, determined to ignore the man at the far end of the table. It lasted all of thirty seconds. Even without looking, I could feel his attention on me. "I'm sure everyone here is aware of why we've gathered tonight," my father began. "The proposed agreement between the Corvelli and Valenti organizations has the potential to benefit both families significantly." Several people nodded. I fought back a sigh. Here we go. Numbers were discussed, Shipping routes, Territories, Percentages, Profit projections. The same topics I'd listened to my entire life. The same topics I couldn't care less about.

Twenty minutes in, my attention was already drifting. I looked up. Mateo was watching me. I looked back down. A few minutes later, I looked up again. Still watching. By the fifth or sixth time, it was getting ridiculous. I met his gaze and narrowed my eyes slightly. What? The corner of his mouth twitched. The jerk looked amused. I looked away first. "Stop fidgeting," my mother murmured. I glanced at her. "I'm not fidgeting." "You are."

I rolled my eyes. A low chuckle drifted across the table. My stomach dropped. Of course he heard that. "Is something amusing, Mr. Valenti?" my father asked. Conversation immediately died. Mateo remained perfectly calm. "Nothing at all," he said smoothly. "I'm simply enjoying the discussion." Liar. The look in his eyes told me he knew I knew it too. My father studied him for a moment before continuing. "As I was saying, the Corvelli family will maintain control of the southern districts." I tried to pay attention. I really did. For almost three full minutes. Then Mateo spoke again. "And what does your daughter think?" The room went silent. Every head turned toward me. Wonderful. "Excuse me?" I asked."

The agreement." Mateo leaned back in his chair. "You've been listening. I'd imagine you have an opinion." A few people exchanged confused glances. No one had ever asked for my opinion before. Most of them acted like I was furniture. "I'm sure my daughter has nothing to add," my father said sharply. My jaw tightened. Mateo's gaze never left mine. "I'd still like to hear it." The challenge in his voice was impossible to miss. For a second, I considered staying quiet. Then again, where was the fun in that? I smiled sweetly. "Honestly?" Mateo's mouth curved slightly. "Please." I sat back in my chair. "I think everyone here enjoys listening to themselves far too much." Silence. Complete silence. Someone cleared their throat. My mother closed her eyes.

And Mateo laughed, not a polite laugh, not a forced one; a real laugh. The sound filled the room. Only then did I realize I'd just insulted some of the most dangerous people in the world. Oddly enough, the only reaction I cared about was his. The laughter eventually faded. My father's stare could have frozen lava. "Samantha." The warning in his voice was unmistakable. I blinked innocently. "Yes?" A few people looked like they were desperately trying not to laugh. Others looked offended enough to start a war. Mateo looked very entertained. "Do you find something amusing, Mr. Valenti?" my father asked. Mateo leaned back slightly. "I appreciate honesty." My father looked unimpressed. "Honesty is one thing. Disrespect is another." Before I could defend myself, Mateo spoke. "I didn't find it disrespectful." The room quieted again. "In fact," he continued, "it may be the most accurate thing said all evening."

A few muffled chuckles spread around the table. I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from smiling. My father noticed. That didn't help. "You're encouraging her." my father said. "Perhaps." Mateo said. "She hardly needs encouragement," I muttered. Mateo's eyes flicked toward me. A small smile appeared on his face. My pulse immediately decided to embarrass me. Fantastic. My father rubbed a hand across his face. "Can we return to the matter at hand?" "By all means," Mateo replied. The meeting finally continued. Unfortunately, so did my awareness of him. Every time I looked up, I found him looking right back. Not enough to be obvious. Just enough to make me notice. An hour later, the negotiations came to an end. People stood, documents were gathered, conversations started, I escaped. The moment the garden door closed behind me, I took a deep breath. Cool air filled my lungs.

Rain fell lightly from the dark sky above, leaving the stone pathways slick and shining beneath the estate lights. For the first time all evening, I relaxed. A mistake. "Escaping already?" I froze. That voice. Smooth, Deep, Dangerous. Slowly, I turned. Mateo stood beneath a lantern a few yards away, hands tucked into his coat pockets. The warm light caught the sharp angles of his face. His eyes found mine again. "I needed some air," I said. His gaze drifted over me. "I was beginning to think you enjoyed staring." Heat rushed into my cheeks. "Maybe I was wondering why you kept looking at me." A smile spread across his face. This time, it reached his eyes. "Only when something is worth looking at." My heart betrayed me with a single hard thud. And suddenly the cold night didn't feel cold anymore.