(Elara's POV)
Sleep evaded me that night.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him — Luciano DeLuca — sitting across from me, wine glass in hand, watching me like a puzzle he couldn't stop touching.
The night had ended quietly, too quietly. He'd said goodnight with that soft rasp in his voice, the kind that made my pulse misbehave. But even when I shut my bedroom door, his presence lingered — in the air, in the shadows, in the way my skin still hummed.
I turned on my side, staring at the sliver of moonlight spilling across the marble floor. The villa was too silent — except for the distant sound of footsteps, guards changing shifts maybe, or ghosts pacing halls they'd never leave.
But one thought wouldn't stop echoing: Why me?
I'd been around powerful men before, the kind who ruled with fear and touched with violence. But Luciano was different — quieter, sharper, dangerous in ways words couldn't capture. He didn't need to raise his voice to own a room. He just was power.
And now I was in his house, under his roof, pretending to be something I wasn't.
"Breathe," I whispered to myself. "You've handled worse."
Except this time, my heart didn't listen.
The morning sun was pale gold, bleeding through the sheer curtains when I finally gave up on sleep. I slipped into a black silk robe and tied my hair back before stepping out to the terrace.
Luciano's villa overlooked the coastline — the kind of view that could make you forget who you were. The ocean stretched endlessly, its rhythm steady, unbothered by the chaos men like him created.
I poured myself coffee, the bitter scent grounding me.
That's when I heard his voice.
"Couldn't sleep either?"
I froze.
Luciano stood a few feet away, dressed in a loose shirt and slacks, barefoot on the cold tiles, looking like sin sculpted from morning light. His hair was still damp — he'd showered, which only made him look more human… and somehow more dangerous.
"I didn't know anyone else was awake," I said, trying to sound casual.
He smirked faintly. "You're in a house full of men who don't sleep. Paranoia is part of the job."
I turned back toward the sea. "And you? What keeps you awake?"
He didn't answer immediately. The silence between us grew thick, almost intimate. When he finally spoke, his tone was lower. "Ghosts."
I looked at him then — really looked. There was something behind his eyes, a kind of exhaustion that wasn't physical. Like he'd seen too much and forgotten how to stop remembering.
"You don't strike me as someone haunted by anything," I said softly.
He gave a dry laugh. "Then you don't know me yet."
Something in the way he said yet made my stomach tighten.
Later that morning, a meeting was called. I wasn't supposed to attend, but curiosity — and the need to stay ahead — made me linger near the hallway.
Luciano's men gathered in the study. I recognized some of them — Enzo, his right-hand man; Matteo, the strategist; and Rocco, the one who always seemed seconds away from violence.
Through the crack in the door, I caught fragments of the conversation.
"— shipment from Palermo was intercepted."
"— someone's leaking information."
"— it's not the Russians, it's someone inside."
Luciano's voice cut through the noise — calm, lethal. "Find them before I do."
The room went silent.
Then footsteps.
I barely had time to move before the door opened — and he was standing there.
Luciano's gaze landed on me, sharp as a blade. "Eavesdropping, angel?"
My breath hitched. "I was just—"
He stepped closer. "Curious?"
"I heard voices," I managed. "Didn't mean to listen."
He leaned against the wall, studying me like he could taste the truth. "You should be careful, Elara. Curiosity can be... fatal."
His words should've scared me. Instead, they burned.
(Luciano's POV)
You don't know what to do with her.
She's not like the others.
Most women who walk into your world either want power or protection. Elara Moretti wanted neither — at least not openly. There was something else in her eyes. Calculation, maybe. Or pain. The kind you recognize because you've lived it too.
When she looked at you this morning, standing in the sunlight, you felt it — that pull. The one that makes you forget why you swore never to feel again.
But you know better.
You've buried too many people who made you feel.
The meeting replayed in your mind — the whispers of betrayal, the missing shipment, the tension. The empire your father built is bleeding from the inside, and you can't even trust your own men.
And now, in the middle of all that, she appears. Beautiful. Clever. Unafraid.
You should've sent her away that first night. But you didn't.
And that makes her dangerous.
Later that day, you find her in the garden. She's sitting by the fountain, notebook in hand, pretending to sketch.
But you know she's watching.
You walk up behind her quietly.
She senses you before you speak — her shoulders tense, then relax.
"Do you always spy on people, Elara?" you murmur near her ear.
She turns slightly, meeting your gaze without flinching. "Do you always sneak up on them?"
You smirk. "Touché."
You sit beside her, close enough that she can smell the faint trace of your cologne.
"Tell me something," you say. "Why are you really here?"
Her eyes flick up. "You hired me."
You chuckle softly. "I don't remember hiring anyone who can't sleep, eavesdrops on meetings, and looks at me like she's hiding something."
She swallows hard but doesn't break eye contact. "Maybe I'm just not afraid of you."
You lean closer, voice low. "You should be."
For a moment, neither of you moves. The air feels charged, like a storm waiting to break.
Then she stands, chin lifted. "Maybe I should. But I'm not."
And just like that — she walks away, leaving you staring after her, half tempted to let her go… half ready to destroy her for what she makes you feel.
(Elara's POV)
I didn't know what scared me more — the way he looked at me, or the way I wanted him to.
Every instinct screamed to keep my distance.
But every heartbeat whispered otherwise.
Luciano DeLuca was the kind of man mothers warned their daughters about. And yet, standing in his shadow felt safer than being anywhere else.
Maybe that was the real danger.
To be continued…