Adriana

I followed Matteo downstairs through the hostel lobby, and the Miami heat wrapped around us the second we stepped outside.

The valet brought a black Mercedes around, and Matteo opened my door before getting behind the wheel. We pulled onto Ocean Drive, and the city stretched out in front of us with neon lights cutting through the night.

Everything felt different here compared to New York. The crowds spilled out of restaurants and bars, and bass from the clubs thumped so loud I could feel it through the car windows. Palm trees lined every street, and the air smelled like salt water mixed with expensive perfume and cigar smoke.

I watched people stumbling along the sidewalks in designer clothes and wondered how Matteo knew his way around this place so well.

"You have nothing to worry about," Matteo said and kept his eyes on the road. "Gabriel is a friend, and you're safe with me."

I nodded, but my stomach still felt tight. I knew Gabriel Reyes was the Don in Miami, but I had never actually met him before, and walking into his territory made everything feel more real. The car turned down a quieter street, and I sat up straighter when I saw where we were heading.

The club sat on the corner and looked like something out of a magazine. Floor-to-ceiling windows showed glimpses of golden light inside, and a massive fountain sat in front with water cascading down black marble. White roses floated on the surface, and the whole thing glowed under spotlights.

The building was sleek and modern with frosted glass panels that lit up from within, and a red carpet ran from the curb to the double doors. Velvet ropes held back a line of people dressed in clothes I could never afford, and two security guards the size of trucks stood at the entrance watching everyone who got close.

I stared at the place and couldn't help myself. "So he really owns this place??"

"All of it," Matteo said as he pulled up to the valet.

We got out of the car, and Matteo handed the keys to a kid in a white shirt. The bass from inside vibrated through the sidewalk, and I could feel it in my chest. Matteo put his hand on my back and guided me toward the entrance, and everyone in line turned to watch us walk past.

The security guard on the right looked at Matteo first, and something clicked in his face. He unclipped the velvet rope right away and stepped aside, and his partner did the same. But neither of them looked at me, and the taller one waved Matteo forward like I wasn't even there.

Matteo stopped walking. I felt his hand tense against my back, and when I glanced up, his jaw was tight. He turned his head slowly toward the guard who had ignored me, and the man went stiff.

"She's with me," Matteo said, and his voice was quiet but had that edge that made people nervous.

"Yes, sir, my apologies," the guard stammered and finally looked at me with a quick nod.

Matteo stared at him for another second before we moved forward, and I could feel the anger rolling off him as we walked through the doors.

The inside of the club made me stop and stare. The space opened up into something massive with high ceilings and crystal chandeliers, throwing light everywhere.

The bar ran along the entire left wall, and it was white marble with gold running through it, and bottles I recognised from magazines lined glass shelves behind it. Private booths with curtains lined the far wall, and waitresses in black dresses carried champagne on silver trays between tables.

The music pulsed through everything and came from a DJ booth above the dance floor, where people moved under purple and blue lights. But what caught my attention were the stages. Three of them were scattered around the club, and dancers worked the poles on each one. They moved like professionals in elaborate costumes, and crowds gathered around each stage with drinks and cash in hand.

People turned to look at us as we walked through. Some faces showed curiosity, and others showed recognition, and a few men in suits whispered to each other when they saw Matteo. A woman in a red dress stopped talking to stare, and her friend leaned in to say something that made them both look back at us.

I stayed close to Matteo's side. I could feel all the questions hanging in the air. What was a New York don doing here? Why was he at Gabriel's club? The stares followed us across the floor and made my skin prickle.

Matteo and I stood side by side, our eyes drawn irresistibly to the figure dominating the space.

From the way Matteo looked at the man, it must be Gabriel. His lean, muscular frame was accentuated by the soft glow of the dim lighting, his light blonde hair catching the faint glow of the club.

Beside him, a woman knelt, her posture one of absolute submission. Her neck was bound by a tight leather leash, the material gleaming under the dim light as Gabriel held it firmly in his grip. The leash was a stark contrast against her pale skin,

She was dressed in leather so sheer, it barely covered her body, leaving little to the imagination. The fabric clung to her like a second skin, emphasising her lithe figure while still managing to conceal just enough to tantalise. Her gaze was fixed on Gabriel, worshipful and adoring, as if he were the only anchor in her world.

Gabriel’s hand tangled in her hair, his fingers moving slowly, possessively, as if he were savouring the texture of her strands. She shivered beneath his touch, her body reacting instinctively to his dominance.

I felt a cold shiver race down my spine, my breath catching in my throat. Beside me, Matteo’s hand tightened around my waist, a silent gesture of reassurance that grounded me in the moment.

Gabriel’s eyes lifted, meeting Matteo’s across the space. A wicked, knowing smile stretched across his lips, a smile that carried the weight of unspoken history.