The morning at the gallery was peaceful.
Soft sunlight streamed through the tall glass windows, spreading warm golden light across the polished wooden floor. The quiet melody of classical piano music floated through the air while a few visitors walked slowly between the paintings, whispering softly to each other.
Riyana liked mornings like this.
Calm.
Quiet.
Normal.
For a few hours every day, the art gallery felt like a completely different world—one untouched by the darkness of Ravenza's underground empire.
Here, there were no bodyguards.
No guns.
No criminals pretending to be businessmen.
Just art.
And that was exactly how Riyana liked it.
She stood on a small ladder, carefully adjusting a large oil painting on the wall. Her fingers gently straightened the frame before she stepped back to examine it.
It was her favorite piece in the gallery.
A stormy sea stretched across the canvas. Dark waves crashed violently beneath a cloudy sky, the water wild and powerful. But in the far distance, almost hidden by the mist, a small boat continued moving forward through the chaos.
To most people, the painting looked dramatic.
To Riyana, it looked familiar.
Life was like that storm.
Dangerous.
Unpredictable.
But if you were strong enough, you could still move forward.
"You're staring at it again."
Riyana turned slightly.
Elena was leaning against the nearby wall with a teasing smile.
"I'm not staring," Riyana said.
"You stare at that painting every morning."
"Because it's beautiful."
Elena tilted her head, studying the painting again.
"It looks depressing."
Riyana shook her head.
"It looks honest."
Elena laughed quietly.
"You're definitely your father's daughter."
Riyana frowned.
"Don't say that."
Elena raised both hands in surrender.
"Okay, okay. No mafia comparisons before coffee."
Riyana smiled faintly before climbing down from the ladder.
Just then, the soft chime of the gallery door opening echoed through the room.
Neither of them looked toward the entrance at first.
Visitors came and went all day.
But something about the atmosphere changed almost instantly.
The quiet murmurs inside the gallery slowly faded.
A strange tension filled the room.
Riyana noticed it immediately.
She turned around slowly.
And her stomach dropped.
Bosco had just walked in.
He looked completely out of place in the peaceful gallery.
Tall.
Confident.
Dangerously calm.
His black suit was perfectly tailored, his posture relaxed but commanding. Two large men stood quietly near the entrance behind him, clearly his bodyguards.
Visitors in the gallery suddenly looked uncomfortable.
Some recognized him.
Others simply sensed the power surrounding him.
Elena leaned closer to Riyana.
"Tell me that's not who I think it is."
Riyana sighed softly.
"Unfortunately… it is."
Elena's eyes widened.
"Why is he here?"
"Apparently to ruin my peaceful morning."
Bosco walked slowly through the gallery, his hands casually in his pockets as he studied the paintings on the walls.
He didn't rush.
He didn't speak.
But his presence alone changed the entire atmosphere of the room.
Then he stopped.
His eyes lifted.
And found Riyana instantly.
Of course they did.
His lips curved into a slow, satisfied smile.
Riyana immediately looked away.
"Elena," she muttered quietly, "I'm leaving."
Elena blinked.
"Leaving?"
"Yes."
"Running away?"
"I prefer the term *strategic retreat*."
But just as Riyana turned toward the hallway—
His voice stopped her.
"Running away already?"
Her shoulders stiffened.
Slowly… very slowly… she turned back.
Bosco was now standing only a few steps away.
Elena glanced between them and immediately stepped backward.
"I suddenly remembered I have work to do," she whispered before disappearing toward the office.
Traitor.
Riyana crossed her arms.
"You're trespassing."
Bosco glanced around the gallery slowly.
"I see no signs saying I'm not welcome."
"You're not welcome."
He looked amused rather than offended.
"I assumed that."
"Then why are you here?"
Bosco gestured casually toward the paintings around them.
"To appreciate art."
Riyana stared at him.
"You expect me to believe that?"
Bosco tilted his head slightly.
"You think mafia bosses can't enjoy art?"
"I think mafia bosses don't randomly visit art galleries owned by their enemy's daughter."
Bosco smiled faintly.
"That's a fair observation."
Riyana sighed impatiently.
"Just say why you're here."
Instead of answering, Bosco stepped closer to the stormy sea painting she had been adjusting earlier.
He studied it quietly for a long moment.
His eyes followed the crashing waves.
The distant boat.
The stormy sky.
"This one," he said finally.
Riyana frowned.
"What about it?"
Bosco turned slightly toward the gallery assistant nearby.
"I'll take it."
The assistant blinked nervously.
"Sir?"
"I would like to buy this painting."
Riyana immediately stepped forward.
"That painting isn't for sale."
Bosco looked at her calmly.
"Everything is for sale."
"Not this."
Bosco raised an eyebrow.
"No?"
"No."
He studied her face carefully.
Then he turned back to the assistant.
"How much for the entire gallery?"
The assistant nearly dropped the tablet in her hands.
Riyana stared at him in disbelief.
"You cannot buy the entire gallery."
Bosco shrugged casually.
"Why not?"
"Because it's not for sale."
Bosco looked back at the stormy sea painting.
"I like it."
"That doesn't mean you can buy it."
Bosco turned back toward her slowly.
His voice lowered slightly.
"I didn't come here for the painting."
Riyana narrowed her eyes.
"I figured."
Bosco's smile returned.
"I came to see you."
Riyana sighed heavily.
"Of course you did."
Bosco stepped a little closer.
"You said you would walk in the opposite direction if you saw me again."
"Yes."
"And yet…"
His eyes glinted with quiet amusement.
"You're still standing here."
"That's because this is my gallery."
Bosco chuckled softly.
"Fair enough."
Riyana pointed toward the door.
"You've seen the gallery. Now you can leave."
But Bosco didn't move.
Instead, he looked back at the stormy sea painting.
"You like this one," he said.
Riyana hesitated.
"How do you know that?"
"You were adjusting it when I walked in."
She didn't reply.
Bosco stepped closer to the painting.
"Stormy sea," he said quietly.
"Dangerous waves."
"What's your point?"
Bosco's voice softened slightly.
"Even storms calm eventually."
Riyana rolled her eyes.
"Is that another one of your romantic speeches?"
"Maybe."
"Well, save it for someone who believes in romance."
Bosco turned back to her.
"That's the problem."
Riyana frowned.
"What problem?"
Bosco looked directly into her eyes.
"You're the only woman in this city who doesn't want to hear it."
There was no arrogance in his voice.
Only calm certainty.
And strangely…
That made the words more dangerous.
Riyana looked away quickly.
"You should find someone else to bother."
Bosco smiled slowly.
"Maybe."
But his eyes didn't leave her face.
"Unfortunately," he said quietly, "I'm not interested in anyone else right now."
Riyana crossed her arms again.
"You're impossible."
Bosco chuckled softly.
"Not impossible."
He leaned slightly closer.
"Just persistent."
And something told Riyana that avoiding Bosco Leone was going to be far more difficult than she had expected.