The streets of Florence glistened under the evening rain, each droplet tapping against the blacked-out window of my Maybach as Enzo drove us through the city. The night was alive—sirens in the distance, drunken laughter from bars, distant church bells—but inside the car, the only sound was the low hum of the engine and the rage pulsing in my veins.
Elena.
Her name alone tasted like danger on my tongue.
She thought she could slip out of my world quietly.She thought she could fall into the arms of another man.She thought she could forget the man who had carved himself into her soul.
But Elena didn't understand something very simple:
No one leaves Luca Rossi unless I let them.
And I never let her go.
"Boss," Enzo said from the driver's seat, eyes fixed on the road. "We'll reach Santa Croce in five minutes."
I leaned back, jaw tight."Is she still with him?"
"Yes."
A muscle twitched in my cheek.
"Is she smiling?" I asked quietly.
Enzo hesitated."That's… unclear."
"Check again."
He tapped his earpiece, listening to the agent tailing her. After a moment, he repeated the answer:
"Yes. She looks… relaxed."
Relaxed.With him.
The word struck harder than any bullet ever had.
I turned my face toward the window, watching the reflections of streetlights slither across the glass. Every part of me burned, not with fear—Luca Rossi feared nothing—but with something far more dangerous.
Possessiveness.
No, obsession.
Not even I could deny it.
Elena had left my world because she thought she needed peace. Safety. A life not entangled in blood and power. But the truth was unchangeable:
She had walked away from the devil…only to fall into the hands of a lamb.
Marcus couldn't protect her from a shadow, let alone a mafia family that wanted to use her as leverage. The Morettis were hunting for weaknesses—and Elena was the only one I had.
And tonight, they would learn what happened to anyone who touched what was mine.
"Stop the car two blocks away," I ordered. "I don't want her seeing me yet."
Enzo gave a single nod.
Outside, Santa Croce was glowing, golden light spilling from cafés and wine bars. Tourists wandered in groups. Couples strolled hand-in-hand. And then—
There she was.
Elena.
A soft red coat draped over her shoulders, the rain catching in her hair like tiny diamonds. Her eyes—those stubborn, defiant eyes—shifted between Marcus and the world around her, always alert, always curious. She moved with a quiet elegance that had once driven me insane.
Still does.
My chest tightened in a way I hated.
"She looks good," Enzo murmured carefully.
My glare in the rearview mirror shut him up instantly.
Marcus walked beside her, holding an umbrella over her head, talking animatedly. Elena smiled politely, but even from here, I could see it wasn't real.
She was acting.
Pretending.
Hurting.
Because she knew what she'd lost the day she walked out of my penthouse.
I stepped out of the car, the night air sharp against my skin. Enzo followed a step behind me, hand resting near the inside of his jacket where he kept his gun.
"Keep distance," I said. "She needs to see me before she hears me."
"Yes, Boss."
The street felt electrified as I walked toward the café where she and Marcus sat. My shoes clicked against the cobblestones—soft, deliberate, lethal. People subconsciously moved aside, unaware of who I was but responding to instinct.
Predator energy was universal.
I stopped across the street, under the shadow of a tall stone archway, watching her.
She laughed—softly, but her hand twisted the edge of her sleeve, the way she always did when she was nervous.
So she wasn't comfortable.Good.
Marcus said something that made her look away, out toward the street, and then—
Her eyes found mine.
It happened like a spark catching fire—fast, violent, unstoppable.
Elena froze.
Her breath hitched.
Her fingers slipped from her cup.
The umbrella shook slightly in Marcus's hand as he followed her gaze, confusion clouding his expression.
But Elena wasn't looking at him.
She was looking at me.
Her lips parted slowly, disbelief flashing across her face, followed by something deeper—fear… or longing. Maybe both.
I stepped forward.
One slow, deliberate step.
Her chest rose sharply.
Another step.
Her pulse visibly jumped at her throat.
Marcus tensed, finally sensing the storm rolling toward them.
Elena whispered my name—just her lips moving, the sound stolen by the rain—
"Luca…"
God, I felt that.
I crossed the street in the kind of silence that came before the kill. A car passed between us; when it cleared, I was standing right in front of her table.
Rain dripped off the edge of the umbrella.Marcus stiffened.Elena looked like she might collapse or run—maybe both.
I rested one hand on the back of her chair, leaning down slightly, my voice lowered to the dangerous calm I used with enemies.
"You shouldn't be out here alone."
Her breath shuddered. "I'm not alone."
My eyes flicked to Marcus for less than a second.
"I wasn't referring to him."
Marcus straightened, his voice shaking but determined. "Elena doesn't want anything to do—"
I cut him off with a single glance.He went silent instantly.
Then I turned my attention back to her.
"Elena," I murmured, her name a dark promise on my tongue, "go home."
Her eyes widened. "You don't get to give me orders anymore."
A slow, cold smile touched my lips.
"Then consider it a warning."
Marcus slammed his hand on the table. "This is insane—she's not yours."
I turned my head toward him, expression empty.
"She was never yours."
Marcus swallowed hard.
The rain intensified, tapping against the umbrella like the ticking of a clock.
"Elena," I said, voice dropping to a tone only she understood. "You're in danger."
She tensed. "Because of you."
The truth stung, but only because she didn't understand.Not yet.
I leaned closer, my breath grazing her ear.
"No. Because of the people who want to get to me."
A tremor ran through her.
Marcus grabbed her arm protectively. "We're leaving."
I straightened slightly, eyes hardening at his touch on her skin.
"If you walk away from me right now," I said calmly, "you won't make it three blocks."
Marcus blinked. "Is that a threat?"
"No," I said."A fact."
Before he could respond, a black motorcycle sped past the café—too fast, too close.
My instincts screamed.
I moved before thought existed.
My arm wrapped around Elena's waist, yanking her against my chest as a bullet tore through the air, shattering the café window behind us.
People screamed.
Tables overturned.
Marcus stumbled backward, falling to the ground.
Elena gasped in my arms, trembling as the world erupted into chaos.
I shielded her with my body, one hand gripping her waist, the other cupping the back of her head.
"Stay down," I growled, my voice vibrating against her. "I've got you."
She looked up at me, breaths shallow, eyes wide with shock and something else—something that burned.
"You… you saved me."
My jaw clenched.I hadn't saved her.
I had claimed her.
The motorcycle vanished into the fog of rain, and Enzo appeared beside us, gun drawn.
"Boss, we have to move. Now."
I lifted Elena to her feet, my hand circling her wrist, firm but not hurting.
She wavered. "Luca… I didn't ask for this."
My eyes locked on hers.
"No," I said softly, dangerously, "but you asked for me."
Her breath caught.
And without giving her the chance to argue, I pulled her into my side, my voice a possessive command she could never truly resist—
"You're coming with me."
Because tonight wasn't the night she walked away again.Tonight was the night the entire world learned:
Elena belonged to Luca Rossi.
Whether she accepted it or not.