Chapter 2

The music swelled in the grand ballroom, an elegant masquerade for the criminals who ruled the underworld. Maria stood near the edge of the room, the golden glow of the chandeliers casting shadows along the marble floor. Laughter and hushed conversations filled the space, but none of it reached her.

Her eyes tracked Luca Montella across the ballroom, watching as he spoke with her father. Don Spaletti's expression was unreadable, a mask perfected over decades in this life. Luca, on the other hand, exuded effortless control, his posture relaxed, his movements slow and deliberate, like a man who owned the room. Which, in many ways, he did.

Maria tightened her grip around the stem of her wine glass. The man she had just married had destroyed half of her family years ago. Her father called this union a necessary sacrifice, but Maria knew better. This wasn't peace- it was submission. Not hers. Never hers.

A voice broke through her thoughts. "You look like you're considering murder, donna."

Maria turned her head slightly to find Adrian Moretti, Luca's Consigliere, standing beside her. He held a tumbler of whiskey, his sharp gaze flickering between her and Luca.

"If I were," she murmured, lifting her wine to her lips, "I wouldn't be foolish enough to show it."

Adrian chuckled, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "Then you'll fit in just fine."

Maria didn't respond, her gaze returning to Luca.

Adrian followed her stare. "You hate him." It wasn't a question.

Her lips curved, but there was no humor in it. "And if I do?"

Adrian exhaled, tilting his head slightly. "Then I hope for both your sakes you learn to play the game well."

A moment later, Luca's eyes found hers from across the room. There was something unreadable in his gaze, a quiet challenge that sent heat rushing through her veins. He murmured something to Don Spaletti before walking toward her, his stride slow, purposeful. Maria exhaled through her nose. The devil was coming. Luca stopped in front of his new wife, offering his hand. "Dance with me."

It wasn't a request. Maria hesitated for only a fraction of a second before placing her fingers in his. His grip was firm, possessive, as he led her onto the dance floor. The moment his hand settled on her waist, a shiver ran down her spine- not from fear, but from the awareness that this man was now hers in the most dangerous way possible.

The orchestra swelled around them as he guided her into the waltz, their movements slow, deliberate. The world blurred at the edges, but Maria stayed focused, watching him carefully.

"You've been watching me all night," Luca murmured, voice low enough for only her to hear.

Maria arched a brow. "Should I pretend to be a lovesick bride instead?"

A slow smirk tugged at his lips. "That would be amusing, but no. I prefer honesty."

She studied him for a moment, the way his thumb traced small, almost absentminded circles against her lower back. It was a subtle gesture, one she might not have noticed if she weren't attuned to every single movement he made.

"This is a game to you," she said finally.

Luca's smirk deepened. "Everything is a game."

Maria tilted her head slightly. "And what do you win?"

His gaze darkened, and for the first time that evening, something flickered in his expression- something unreadable. "That depends on how well you play."

The dance ended, but Luca didn't release her immediately. Instead, his hand lingered at her waist, his grip firm. When he finally pulled away, he leaned in, his breath warm against her ear.

"You don't have to love me, mia moglie," he murmured. "But you will respect me."

Maria turned her head just enough to meet his gaze. "We'll see."

A muscle in his jaw ticked. Then, without another word, he released her and walked away, leaving Maria standing alone in the middle of the dance floor. A storm was coming. And she would be ready.