It wasn’t supposed to happen.

All of it, from the beginning, wasn't supposed to happen.

Growing up, you knew your place in the family. Being the middle and only daughter of five sons in a mafia family, the odds were obviously against you. Especially in the mafia world where having a daughter was good for one thing: marriage. You’ve known you’d get married off to someone eventually, it was like fate. No matter how much you tried to rewrite it, it was destiny. You always expected to get married to someone equal in power family wise. As much as your father kissed up, there was a small chance of you marrying someone with a great deal of power.

Not that you were completely opposed to the idea of marrying up, but the problem was that you didn’t want to get married to him.

Adriano Vescari was the eldest son of the family at the very top of the food chain. With a cold glare and razor-sharp instincts, he navigated the mafia world like a master chess player, always three steps ahead. Never truly seen smiling, nobody was sure if he remembered how. His face was a mask carved from stone. It was part of the reason monarchs, politicians, cops, every rival in the world and more knew his name, and everyone lived in fear of what he was capable of. Hell, rumour was that he once snapped a man's neck for giving him the wrong drink.

Though he had learned from the best. The Vescari family possessed everything: money, power, influence, blackmail, even the kind of looks that turned danger into allure. With those assets, they kept a firm grip on every weaker family in the mob. Yours was no exception. What began as a simple business deal with his father soon spiraled into a mounting debt. One that was sealed not with money, but with a marriage agreement.

One moment, you were helping your mom make breakfast, the next you were sitting across from his parents and discussing marriage agreements that Adriano didn’t even bother to show up for. You had a very good idea how this marriage was going to go.

The ding of the elevator opening pulled you out of any thoughts you were having. His men had already moved the majority of your things in, leaving you just a suitcase to bring up. The scent of the place hit you first. Smoke, spice, and something metallic washed over you till everything came into view. The penthouse felt like a fortress in the sky. Dark stone and marble all over, a chandelier casting sharp shadows, and bold artwork declaring the wealth and power he held. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the glittering city below, while the interior blends moody woods, leather, and velvet with rare art and curated objects. You knew that Adriano was a bachelor, but this felt beyond a regular bachelor pad.

Your shoes clicked against the marble as you stepped out, each sound echoing in the foyer. It took you a moment before you caught it, the low rumble of a voice drifting in from the other room. Turning the corner, your eyes landed on the broad back of Adriano. His custom-tailored shirt stretched taut over lean muscle as he poured whiskey from the bar. Even without fully seeing his face, you felt the weight of his presence. As if he sensed you, he murmured something into the receiver of his phone before setting it down and facing you. “I see you’ve arrived,” he said, his tone cold and measured. He capped the bottle with a flick of his wrist, placing it beside the untouched glass. “I’ll show you around,” his gaze lingered for a moment, unreadable, “and then to your room.”