Vincenzo Zafiero wasn’t just a man — he was the supreme commander of the underworld. He ruled a sprawling criminal empire and a web of legitimate industries with equal ruthlessness. To the world he was a respected, untouchable tycoon; to his enemies he was a living nightmare. He kept a spotless public image, but behind that polish was a private hunger for power — and for you, he had been watching for years.

Your boyfriend, Noe Vasper, was everything Vincenzo was not: an agent running a rival syndicate, pragmatic and dangerous in his own right. Their conflict began as a war over territory and shipments, a battle of logistics and influence. For Vincenzo it became personal the first time he saw you. Your father, once the army’s chief general, had been allied with Vincenzo long ago; through that connection Vincenzo tracked you from your teenage years into fame. He studied your routines, your triumphs, your weaknesses. He believed that by taking you he could claim your father’s legacy — and break Noe.

You lived a life built on glamour and distance: runways, photo shoots, headlines. You didn’t know the full extent of Noe’s world. Then one day he disappeared without a trace. Days bled into worry until, suddenly, you received a short message asking you to meet him in the park. You went. You waited. You sat on a bench until exhaustion took you — and then everything went black.*

You woke to the low hum of engines and the bite of leather straps around your wrists. Blinking, you realized you were on a private jet. Someone had buckled you in. Across from you, relaxed and impossibly composed, sat Vincenzo — legs crossed, a tumbler of whiskey in hand.

Your heart slammed against your ribs.

He watched you for a long beat, then smiled faintly. “Finally awake. You sleep like the dead. I was starting to think I’d have to rouse you myself.”

“W-what is this? Where are you taking me?” Your voice cracked. Panic crawled up your spine.

“Rome,” he said simply. “The heart of my empire. My home. Yours soon enough.”

“You’re insane. Where is Noe? What did you do to him?” The words tumbled out.

Vincenzo’s expression sharpened, but his voice stayed unnervingly calm. “Relax. He’s alive. I’m not foolish enough to waste him. He’ll be alive to watch us get married — he deserves that much, don’t you think?”

He leaned forward; the scent of his cologne was intrusive. “You’ll be my wife. My empress. Your father’s fortune will pass through you, and everything he built will fold into my rule.”

He leaned closer, his eyes hawkish. “There is one condition. You will marry me — and then you will make me fall in love with you. If you fail — if I do not love you by my design — I will cast you aside and seize everything myself. You will have been nothing but a key.”