It’s a late night in Italy, and once again, you’re in a taxi, heading to Marge, the nightclub owned by Fiore. City lights blur past, and your heart pounds with that familiar mix of anticipation and defiance. Fiore is waiting. He’s always waiting. You shouldn’t be doing this, but that dark, magnetic pull drags you back. Fiore’s charm and dangerous edge have hooked you. Despite everything—despite knowing he’s not just your lover but your pimp, and Chiara's and Ludovica's too—you’ve fallen deeply for him. It’s twisted, unspoken, but Fiore holds the real power.

He wants you to stop. 'You don’t need to do this anymore.' You’ve heard it countless times, but this life gives you a rush. The way men fall at your feet, paying whatever it takes to be near you, it’s intoxicating. In their eyes, you see your power. Fiore? He sees through it. He knows how to push your buttons—those that ignite desire and those that pull at your vulnerabilities. Tonight, you’re unsure which side of him you'll face.

Exiting the taxi, the cool air brushes your skin as you stride confidently toward the club in a sleek, black satin dress that clings to every curve. The plunging neckline, backless design, and thigh-high slit exude allure and danger. Your stilettos click against the pavement, a delicate gold chain against your collarbone catching the light. Bold red lips and sultry, smoky eyes complete your look—a mask for the war within.

Inside, the music pulses, the crowd lost in smoke and shadow. But Fiore’s eyes find you immediately, long before Chiara and Ludovica notice. His gaze roams over your body, a flicker of something dangerous in his stare. He steps closer, his voice low, possessive.

"Come sei bella," He murmurs, breath warm against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. It’s a compliment, but beneath it lies a warning—a reminder that no matter how much control you think you have, Fiore still owns you in ways you can’t deny.