AYLA
When a man like Cassian Moretti tells you you're on some list, which of course, I assume has to be a bad-black list, you avoid him.
I walked into the large dining hall glittering with expensive gowns and suits under the light.
I've heard—don't ask me 'who' said so—most of these wealthy families in Lake Como were dangerous. Not just dangerously wealthy. They did a lot of bad deals we'd never see on TV.
And Cassian Moretti was definitely no exception. I could tell it by the scar on his face and those scary tattoos almost popping out of his shirt.
And I honestly intended to stay invincible tonight—but fate hates me.
The smell of beeswax candles, fresh flowers, polished wood, and faint tobacco was thick in the air.
Chandeliers dimmed to a honeyed glow.
Dozens of candles everywhere—real, tall, and dripping slightly.
White peonies, bay laurel, and ivory roses, disciplined in tall arrangements at the entrance of the Moretti dining hall.
There were only a few guests tonight and small table groups.
I had no time to ask Mrs. Vine when the arrangements had been made because she was suddenly fluttering all over the place.
I suddenly noticed people deferring without warning for someone to walk through.
Cassian Moretti appeared.
His eyes spread over the room like he enjoyed this feeling of towering over others and being at the centre of power.
He turned towards one of the empty tables—his face a complete mask of unwelcome and aloofness.
But then as if he could tell I was staring, his eyes found mine.
I should look away. I really wanted to. Instead, I glared.
Someone bumped into me, cutting my gaze.
"I'm sorry," I muttered, moving out of the way.
When I looked up again, his eyes were suddenly on his phone.
I suddenly felt like I had tried to show him I couldn't be threatened by him or his gaze. And for what reason?
Luciano Salvanni's smile caught my eyes. The bastard was undressing me with his eyes from his seat.
That fucking ignoramus repulsed me.
Luciano Salvanni's the Morettis' charming godson. Son of Don Salvanni, one of the five families in Lake Como. A certified casanova who smiled like it was the first best thing he was born to do and complimented like it was his major.
I'd spotted him a couple of times in the past—in the moretti villa of course, nowhere else—always flashing me that sultry, annoying smile.
I spotted Mrs Vine and moved to join the others.
"Ayla, Lady Moretti's table. Now." Mrs Vine instructed.
I nodded and followed behind her. I bowed and dropped the silver tray on Lady Moretti's table, feeling someone's gaze on my back.
"You," Lady Moretti spoke with easy grace, pointing one of her recent polished nails at me.
"Yes, Ma'am," I responded, my head bowed low.
"I heard you've met my step...Cassian."
You've heard?
She said it with that indifferent tone that suggested something more than just a 'meeting'.
I noticed a frown on someone beside her. "When did they have the time to meet? He just got back."
I swallowed.
The fucking blonde with the cheap liposuction and fake lashes walked past me, flashing a bloody grin.
How delightful.
I forced my voice into the lightest tone I could muster. "Yes, my lady, we've met."
Lady Moretti stiffened in her chair.
"He'd requested for a glass of wine in the kitchen."
I realized my mistake too late. The Moretti's didn't keep wine in the kitchen. The wine cellar was downstairs.
Lady Moretti hesitated like she was unsure. "Well, alright." She finally spoke, "see if Luciano Salvanni needs anything. You know he's special."
Why the hell was she sending me to him?
My lungs expanded, and I took in a breath. "Of course," I nodded, moving to Mr. Luciano's table—which, cosmically, against my peace and mental health, was next to Cassian's.
Cassian Moretti lounged in his chair, one hand lined with scars relaxed on the table, rings glinting under the chandelier, eyes half-lidded.
He didn't blink. He just watched as the American sitting next to him spoke.
I could pretend his presence wasn't melting my brain—but it was.
Anyone would feel that way after being told they're on the devil's list.
Cassian Moretti's words meant nothing, right?
Wrong.
I forced a smile and stood in front of Luciano.
"If it isn't my favourite red doll," he flashed me those white teeth like he was running a toothpaste ad. "You look stunning tonight. Actually, you always do."
I wanted to slap the tray in my hand into his face.
Who the hell was his favourite red doll?
I hated being called stupid names.
Luciano adjusted his chair. "I haven't seen you in months."
He winked.
"Cassian…" Lady Moretti' stood beside him, one hand placed on Cassian's shoulder—a glass of Brunello di Montalcino in her other hand— and a blonde stood beside her.
The blonde looked soft and smooth and…familiar.
I could swear she bathed in milk.
"I didn't ask you to come over." Cassian said, lifting her hand off his shoulder. Irritation flickered in his voice as his eyes remained glued to the American.
Lani Moretti feigned a small laughter to mask the embarrassment she was feeling.
"I wanted to introduce Karen Vellani…"
I could feel my cheeks burning with excitement. I knew she was familiar
Karen Vellani—She's been my idol since forever!
Cassian Moretti straightened in his chair like someone had replaced the air around him with ice.
"You have eyes to see I'm discussing more important business." He rolled his eyes slowly, a small warning in his voice.
"Yes—yes, of course, pardon me, I just…" Lady Moretti was still apologizing when he cut her off.
His jaw flexed. "Go."
He said it with that slime irritation as if talking was a difficult chore for him.
Lady Moretti obeyed. Her face was hot with embarrassment.
Hot. Bored. Dangerous. Rich. And Rude…
The list looked incredible.
Cassian Moretti returned his gaze back to the American beside him.
I returned my gaze to Luciano who was mumbling something about Cassian into his phone.
"Would you like me to get you anything tonight?" I asked.
Luciano grinned, dropping his phone down. "Yes."
I leaned forward, my perfunctory smile not wavering,
"I want your attention, red doll."
"Excuse me?" I scoffed, standing straight.
He crossed his legs, a glint of pride in his demeanor. "I like you. I'm sure you know that. Lots of women would give anything to have my attention or be in my bed."
I stifled my anger at his confidence.
Did I look like one of those women? Or did I ask to be one?
A forced smile crossed my face, "Thank you, Mr Luciano; however, unlike your chain of admirers, I really do not fancy you."
He smacked his lips and tapped a finger on the table. "And that's what I like about you."
From where I stood, I felt Cassian's gaze burrow into my back. I turned and met his stare—something amused and dangerous played beneath his cold and withered expression—causing goosebumps to appear on my skin.
It was his turn to stare and he didn't bother to look away. He sat like he was observing my every move.
I did not like any of the men in this room—and certainly not him.
I looked away.
"I don't appreciate being liked." I said, flashing Luciano a small smile that didn't reach my eyes.
A corner of his lips tilted, and I realized I was amusing him. My cheeks burned red with annoyance.
"Get me something to drink," Luciano said, his eyes filled with mischief.
I turned to go and felt a hard impact on my ass.
I had a strong urge to turn around and punch his nose but controlled myself and continued ahead.
Luciano got up and followed me.
A few minutes and Cassian Moretti got up, his chair almost scraping the floor as he stood, like he was about to strangle someone.
"The meeting's over, Elton." Cassian Moretti said dismissively, voice low.
The American beside him bobbed his head in response immediately and stood. "Absolutely."
He looked a bit shaken with fear like a bullet-rolling party was about to begin. "When do we conclude on the properties?"
"When I let you know." Cassian said, stone faced, walking towards my direction.
Luciano stood behind me, his hands a few distance away from the small of my back.
"Get someone else for tonight." Cassian said, tone edged as he came to the wine table, grabbed my wrist and continued walking.
Luciano grabbed my other wrist almost immediately.
And that was the end!
Luciano stood, a sly smile on his face. "I picked this one for tonight."
He said it like i was some fucking commodity he was going to purchase and not a person.
Cassian looked at Luciano Salvanni like he was trying to telepathically set him on fire.
"Excuse me," he said, though it sounded like a warning and a sincere lack of excuses, all packed into one sentence.
The staff and guests around the wine table fell silent.
Cassian Moretti looked calm but the way a muscle in his jaw ticked said otherwise.
He walked towards me slowly—slow like a storm building its way to the chaos it was about to create. He held my other hand.
That touch, simple and warm made me breathless.
It felt like something cold and hot mixed together suddenly pulsed in my bloodstream.
A cold whisper ran through my blood as Cassian looked between us.
I suddenly couldn't breathe properly under his scrutiny.
He lowered his other hand on Luciano's, pulling it away from mine.
I saw the flash in Karen Vellani's eyes from where she sat.
Cassian's voice dropped an octave.
"Not anymore." He said calmly.
Turning to me, "Tonight, you'll be attending to me…Now, I need you to get something in the family study."
I instantly wished I could disappear. The thought of being alone with this man made every part of my body react in a way that was discomforting.
I swallowed. "What do you need?"
His eyes darkened as they flicked to Luciano, then back to me—sharp and possessive.
"You."
I heard the gasp from someone else.
Luciano took a step back.
I, Ayla Thorne, the inventor of chaos, found myself utterly speechless.
"OMG! That did not just happen, did it?" a lady in black chuckled, blinking away her disbelief as she went to stand around Karen Vellani.
Cassian leaned closer, whispering near my ear—close enough that his breath brushed my skin and liquified my bones.
"Now." he murmured and continued to walk away..
The place where his hand had been on mine felt warm and deliberate.
Cassian looked over his shoulder slowly, eyes glaring at Luciano to dare make a move.
"Ayla," Lady Moretti called, making me freeze in my steps.
I could tell this was the part where I lost my fucking JOB!
Cassian's brow carved in a cavalier way. His eyes looked dark and burning and smoldering.
His hand found my wrist again and continued ahead.
I followed him.
Cassian went into the hallway just before the library and stopped, pushing my back into the wall. His fingers circled my neck immediately.
He stood a few feet from me, his grip the only thing connecting us.
"Ouch" I groaned, feeling the impact of my back on the wall.
My pulse fluttered when his thumb brushed my cheeks.
What was he doing?
His throat worked, almost as rough as his calloused hands. "I said, 'I'll pay my attention to you.'"
His voice was dark and dangerous. The scars on his face made him look suddenly like the devil—a dangerous appealing one.
My skin under his touch burned—hot and strange.
I had no idea if it scared or made me feel strange.
I'd been scared of only one thing my whole life—POVERTY! Not being able to pay off my college loans. Not having a fucking job. Not having a roof over my head—only shits like that had ever scared me.
But now?
I tried to squeeze some air into my lungs. "I didn't ask for your attention!"
His eyes fell to my lips like he needed to memorize what it looked like.
Strangely, I felt a warmness spread through me.
He smiled. "You don't always have to ask to receive. You have my attention, Ayla."
He said my name in a way that sounded so inappropriate.
His words were deep and soft, and a strange part of me, for the first time in my life, felt like I'd gotten myself into some real bad shit just by existing.
His grip loosened and slipped, brushing against my arm briefly, and my heart skipped a beat.
"I'll be watching you." He said, turned around and walked away.