The floor of the training hall was colder, compared to the marble above. Even though it was equipped with air conditioners, it reeked of sweat, metal, and faint gun oil, a clear sign of it being overused.

Luca walks ahead of me, whistling. His swagger annoyed me almost as much as his grin.

“The boss wants you trained,” he said, tossing me a wooden sword-like tool. “Let's see if you can handle something that bites back" He winks

I caught it without even looking. There it is.. that annoying smirk

“You talk a lot for a man who hasn't proven he can hit."

His grin widened, " I don't hit women.”

" Then you're about to make an excepti—"

The first strike came fast. Too fast. I barely blocked it. The sound of wood against wood echoed through the hall. He pressed harder, eyes gleaming with challenge.

“Is that all you've got?" He taunted

I twisted, ducked, and kicked the stick out of his hands; it clattered to the floor. I slid against the leather mat. For a moment, I thought I had the upper hand, but not until he grabbed my hand and pulled me down with him. We hit the ground, hard, tangled, and breathless.

With quick motion, he pinned my wrists above my head with one hand. Our faces close, our breaths mingled.

“You're fast,” he said, voice low, a little amused. His other hand traced my waist, below the sports bra I changed into earlier, till he stopped below my jaw. He wrapped his fingers around my neck and gave it a light squeeze, my breath hitched.

“Let me up" My body shivered from his touch, a quick response to his touch. I don't blame her, though. It's been a while since we had some fun.

He dropped his head, barely an inch away from mine, then smiled before whispering close to my ear, “Make me."

I exhaled slowly, " Fine”

I drove my knee into his side, rolled, and had him trapped underneath me in a breath. My stick pressed firmly against his throat.

He raised an eyebrow, grinning through the hold. He sure does that a lot. Grinning.

“You're dangerous when you're angry" he mused, both hands on my waist as he made me straddle him.

I scoff, “I'm dangerous when I'm breathing." His fingers traced patterns on my exposed skin.

“You're a little too touchy, huh?” I pointed out as I eased into his touch, not out of complaint but of curiosity.

“I can't keep my hands off pretty things," He replied, his grip on my waist tightened a little bit, an emphasis on what he said.

“You're Zavier's right—”

He laughed softly, the sound deep and infuriatingly smooth. This was the first time I’d seen him laugh, not those stupid grins and smirks. It made him look boyish, handsome.

“You're not like the women he keeps around" He spoke, a little serious this time.

“Good. I'm not one of them.”

We stayed like that a second too long, close enough that I could smell the faint trace of smoke and cedar on his skin. Then I stood up, breaking the spell before it formed.

*****

The next few hours were a blur of movement. We sparred, and strengthened our blade practice. Luca was relentless, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing me quit. Sweat dampened my hair, my ribs ached but I kept swinging. I've had my fair share of intense training back home.

He threw me one last time, my back hit the mat with full force, hard enough to knock the air out of me.

“Dead yet?"

“You wish. Disappointed?" I wheezed out, sitting up straight.

" On the contrary, you lasted longer than half my recruits” his outstretched hand offered me a towel.

I snatched it. “Remind me to collect my medal"

He leaned against the wall, " You've got spirit. Zavier was right, you're useful trained than dead.” The fuck does he mean by that?

“Did he say that?" I glared at the way he shrugged, noticing how he used Zavier's name instead of the usual ‘Boss’ or ‘Don.’

" More or less.”

I wiped the sweat that trickled down my neck, ignoring the faint tremor of my hands. " Remind him I don't take orders well.”

" Oh, I think he knows. Probably one of the reasons he likes keeping you close.”

Something flickers in his tone. Half warning, half curiosity… I caught it, but didn't respond.

“Are we done?” I asked, ignoring whatever that was.

" We'll pick up from where we stopped tomorrow. Maybe I'll even let you win.” He winked, already headed for the door.

I scoffed " You didn't let me do anything"

“Keep telling yourself that,” he chuckled, closing the door behind him.

I lingered after he left. Loving the soothing silence. My reflection in the mirror showed my bruised shoulder. They didn't bother me, they made me feel alive.

When I finally stepped out of the training room, the house buzzed with energy, dressed in gold and black, no longer its gloomy self. Maids walked everywhere, carrying decorative items, as they chatted away.

“What is going on?" I murmured to myself as I followed the sounds of heels and orders down the hall, a part of the building I hadn't really been in.

There I found the maid who brought my bags up to my room when I arrived, dishing out orders— Rosa was her name.

“What is happening?" I asked itching for an explanation as to why the house looks and sounds so lively on a hot summer afternoon.

“We're preparing for a business gala, Miss Morano— I mean Petrov."

I tensed, my eyes widened, “What did you call me?" How did she know that name? Her eyebrows flew up, as she shifted on her feet, fingers clutched the paper she was holding, wrinkling it.

“I'm so sorry, Miss Petrov, for the slip-up. You just have an uncanny resemblance to someone I used to know…"

Does she know my mother? I access her. She looked to be in her late 60s, meaning she's worked long enough to know someone from 8 years ago…

I walked closer to her slowly, while she moved backwards, “Tell me. Who's this person?" I demand, my voice low so only she could hear it.

“I… uh… Boss Conti wants you to know you'd be attending the event tonight!” I stopped dead in my tracks

She stuttered, a dead giveaway that there's something she's hiding. But if she could recognize me just by mere resemblance, what about Zavier?

Is he really oblivious to it all or just pretending? I let the topic go. For now. Not even bothered about asking about the event Zavier— whom I haven't seen in days— is hosting.

I climbed the stairs up to my room. The door was ajar as nervous voices poured out of it. In a defensive mode, I approached it steadily until a shrill voice startled me.

“There she is! We've been waiting almost an hour! The party is about to begin and you're not even prepared!" A man who looked too glamorous poured out dramatically, hands flailing by his side.

“Come come! Go shower, we have just an hour more left." A lady dragged me from the door, pushing me into the bathroom. A robe hit my face hard, as the door slammed shut.

“What the hell?" I grunted, my voice filled with annoyance. I hear giggles from the other side of the door.

“Must be funny to you! Wait till I get out of here!" I grumbled out, peeling the clothes off my body grudgingly.

After showering, I've been yanked, pulled, poked, even burned by a straightening iron…. Ugh!! This is hell! But, at least there's a positive result…

I thought as I stared at my reflection in my mirror, the girl in there is stunning, with waist-length hair straightened to perfection that brushes the top of my ass. My body was snatched in a wine colored, corset-like bodycon dress that reached my ankles, paired with black stilettos, bringing out my curves. My makeup? Flawless.

“Damn, you're lucky I ain't straight,” the ‘I'm too glamorous I can't help it’ guy whistled, hyping his handiwork. I give it to him, he's good. Tsk

The event started a while ago, the sound of music seeped through my closed doors as I picked up my matching clutch, doused myself in perfume before I left the room.

But not before giving an order to both dressers to leave my room the way they met it. Nobody wants a messy room after a party. I made my way downstairs in a fashionably late style.

Still no clue of what was happening or how I should react to all these, but at least I know where Zavier is now.

At the end of the staircase, he stood, eyes locked on me with an unreadable expression, dressed in a form-fitting black Armani suit. He looked just as delicious as the first time I saw him in the club.

Just because I want him ruined doesn't mean I can't admire his good looks. I'm just a girl, remember.

His dark hair, was sleeked to the side, a silver earring on his left ear, the insignia of the Italian mafia carved on it. He was serving aura and dominance and surely commands all the attention in the room.

I got to the last step, face-to-face with Zavier. With a clearer view, I watched him sharply inhale, his eyes moved from my face, down to my exposed shoulders, then to my body. The movement left a cold trail down my body, making me almost shiver, but I covered up, smirking as I whispered seductively.

“Like what you see?"