Chapter 5 — Curiosity Kills the Psychology Major
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Ava Moretti had a rule:
Never get too curious about people who could have you "disappeared."
She was currently breaking that rule in bold, all-caps letters.
It was almost midnight. The city outside her window buzzed faintly, but her apartment was silent — except for the clicking of her keyboard.
She was knee-deep in Google rabbit holes, reading everything she could about the DeLuca Family Enterprises.
Every headline was the same cocktail of awe and suspicion:
> Italian Tycoon Expands Security Empire
Rumors Swirl Around DeLuca Investments' Hidden Partners
Lorenzo DeLuca — The Gentleman with Secrets
"Gentleman, my foot," Ava muttered, scrolling faster. "You don't get that many security firms without a few skeletons—or bodies—in the closet."
But every time she tried to feel afraid, she remembered his laugh.
Low, real, warm.
The one he gave when she called him "Mr. Funeral Suit."
And that scared her more than any mafia rumor could.
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Next morning — Campus courtyard.
Ava was halfway through her iced coffee when Professor Hayes intercepted her like a caffeine-hating shadow.
"Miss Moretti," he said, holding a folder. "Your preliminary notes on Profile Forty-Seven are… impressive."
She blinked. "Oh. Thank you?"
"I'd like you to take it further," he said. "More detail. More psychological depth. This man's psyche is… complex. Dangerous, yet restrained. You might even say he has a conscience."
Ava swallowed hard.
You have no idea, Professor.
"Sure," she said brightly. "Complex is my middle name."
"Good," Hayes said. "I've arranged for you to present your analysis next week. Publicly."
Ava froze. "Publicly?"
"In front of a few law enforcement consultants and behavioral experts."
Ava smiled through her internal panic. "That's… amazing."
It was not amazing.
It was a disaster in slow motion.
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By the time she reached the library, she was ready to scream into a pillow.
Instead, she screamed into a cappuccino.
"I'm dead," she told Serena over FaceTime. "If I describe Lorenzo's profile in front of an audience, and he somehow finds out—poof! Goodbye, Ava. Hello, missing-person poster."
Serena sipped her smoothie like this was Netflix. "Or he'll just show up and clap from the audience like a proud mafia dad."
"Not helping."
Serena grinned. "You're overthinking. He's probably busy doing… whatever mafia people do. Counting cash. Polishing guns. Practicing smirks."
Before Ava could reply, a familiar voice behind her said,
"Practicing smirks? Should I be offended?"
She froze.
Slowly turned.
And there he was.
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Lorenzo DeLuca stood by the library door, dressed down in a dark coat and simple shirt — but still somehow looking like power personified.
"How do you always appear right after my bad decisions?" she said, heart thudding.
"Maybe I'm your bad decision," he said easily.
Serena (still on FaceTime) squealed so loudly Ava had to mute the call.
---
Lorenzo stepped closer, eyes scanning her table — books, coffee, and, unfortunately, a very visible psychology notebook.
"You study too much," he said. "You should enjoy life more."
"Oh, sorry," Ava said, sarcasm slipping in, "I didn't realize mafia dons were experts in self-care."
He chuckled. "I'm an expert in survival. Slight difference."
Ava smirked. "I noticed."
He leaned on the edge of her table. "Tell me, bella, what exactly are you studying so intensely?"
Her pulse skipped. "Um… human behavior."
He smiled. "And what have you learned?"
"That people lie when they want to protect something," she said.
"Or someone," he corrected softly.
The silence that followed wasn't empty. It was heavy.
Like both of them knew there were too many truths unsaid.
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After a long moment, he reached into his coat pocket and placed a small velvet box on the table.
"What's this?" she asked.
"Consider it a thank-you," he said. "For making me laugh that day. Open it."
Inside was a delicate silver bracelet, engraved faintly:
La risata del diavolo.
Ava frowned. "What does it mean?"
"The Devil's Laugh," he said quietly. "It suits you."
"Should I be flattered or terrified?"
He smiled faintly. "Both."
Her stomach twisted — not from fear, but something far worse.
Interest.
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After he left, Ava stared at the bracelet for a long time.
Then she whispered to herself,
"This is not normal. I am not falling for a literal mobster."
But when she looked down at the engraved words, she couldn't stop smiling.
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That night — somewhere across the city.
Lorenzo was sitting in his office, fingers steepled under his chin.
His second-in-command, Marco, stood across from him.
"You're watching her," Marco said flatly. "That student."
Lorenzo didn't deny it.
Marco frowned. "Boss, that's not wise. She's… innocent."
Lorenzo's eyes darkened slightly. "No one is truly innocent."
Then, after a pause, softer— "But she makes me want to remember what that feels like."
Marco hesitated. "You think she knows who you are?"
Lorenzo's lips curved. "If she does… she's playing a very dangerous game."
He reached for a file on his desk — her university record.
But this time, instead of analyzing her, he closed it.
"She's studying me," he murmured to himself. "Let's see how she reacts when I start studying her."
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End of Chapter 5.
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