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Chapter 2

Grace's POV

After attending that business meeting my father hosted at home, where I was forced to make polite conversation with his associates, I quickly excused myself, telling him I had a school project to finish. Of course, it was just an excuse to escape as quickly as possible. Sometimes I think my father forgets that I’m only eighteen. Being his only child, he’s been teaching me since I was little how to navigate his world, grooming me to take over the empire he’s built over the years once I’m "old enough."

I stop at a cozy café, ordering a hot chocolate. The air outside has a biting chill, unusual for early September, but it’s a welcome change. I settle at a small table, sipping quietly, my thoughts drifting to my father.

I love him deeply, because he’s all I have—my only parent. But it breaks my heart that he doesn’t understand I’m not made for the life he leads. He dreams of me inheriting the empire he’s worked so hard to build, but I can’t live in the shadows like he does. The weight of it suffocates me.

Suddenly, the door to the café swings open with a loud bang, crashing against the wall, pulling me from my thoughts. A man, average in height and looking frantic, rushes straight to the bathroom, not even glancing around. Strange. People seem to be getting weirder these days.

I barely have time to process it before the door opens again, and this time, my breath catches in my throat. Walking in, as though he owns the place, is him. Elio Domenico.

Elio is… well, he’s one of the most dangerous men in the mafia world. My father has made sure I know who each of these men are, and Elio—he’s at the top of the list. Ruthless, cunning, and feared by all. I try to remain as calm as possible, though my heart is racing. What is he doing here? And why is he heading straight for me?

He moves with a certain arrogance, his every step calculated, as though the very ground beneath him should be grateful to support his weight. His tailored suit clings perfectly to his muscular frame, his dark eyes scanning the room before landing on me. There’s something magnetic about him, something that makes it impossible to look away, even though every instinct in my body is screaming to run.

"Buonasera, bella," he greets, his deep, velvety voice sending a shiver down my spine. His accent is thick, unmistakably Italian, the words rolling off his tongue with a smoothness that feels dangerous. "Spero di non disturbarti." (Good evening, beautiful. I hope I’m not disturbing you.)

My throat feels dry as I muster a small smile, doing my best to appear unbothered, though my pulse is hammering in my ears. "No, not at all," I manage to say, my voice steadier than I expected.

Elio takes a seat across from me without waiting for an invitation, his gaze never leaving mine. "Do you know who I am?" he asks, leaning forward slightly, his eyes narrowing with curiosity, like he’s testing me.

I swallow hard, nodding. "Yes. My father… he’s told me about you."

"Ah, tuo padre." (Ah, your father.) His lips curl into a slow, knowing smile. "He’s a smart man, your father. But I wonder…" He trails off, his gaze piercing as though he’s trying to read every thought passing through my mind. "Does he know just how precious his little girl really is?"

My heart skips a beat, and I struggle to maintain my composure. "I’m sure he does," I say, trying to keep my voice even. "I’m all he has."

"Si, I’m aware," he replies, his tone soft but dripping with meaning. "Which makes you very valuable. Molto preziosa." His eyes gleam with something I can’t quite place—danger, perhaps, or maybe it’s a warning.

I take another sip of my hot chocolate, more to give myself something to do than because I actually want it. "Why are you here, Elio?" I ask, daring to use his name.

He smirks, leaning back in his chair, casually stretching an arm along the back of it. "I came to deliver a message," he says simply, his eyes still locked onto mine. "For you."

My stomach tightens. A message for me? From him? I can’t help but wonder what this could mean. I was only here to escape the madness of my father’s world for a little while, and now, one of the most feared men in that world is sitting across from me, talking about messages.

"And what message is that?" I ask, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice.

Elio’s smile doesn’t fade, but his eyes darken. "Your world is about to change, Grace. Whether you like it or not."

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