Chapter 1 - A game of Masks

Elena Vasquez had spent years preparing for this moment. Years of training, studying, and pushing herself past every limit to stand here, in the heart of the enemy’s empire.

She adjusted the neckline of her sleek black dress, the silky fabric hugging her body like a second skin. The bass from the music thrummed through her veins as she stepped into The Black Orchid, the infamous nightclub owned by Lorenzo DeLuca.

The air was thick with cigarette smoke, expensive perfume, and the low hum of conversations whispered over glasses of bourbon. Power moved through the room like an invisible current, and at the center of it all sat the man she had sworn to destroy.

Lorenzo DeLuca.

He lounged in a private booth, his presence commanding without effort. Dark hair, sharp features, and a gaze that could strip someone down to their soul. He wasn’t just a mafia leader—he was the mafia leader. Ruthless. Untouchable. And, according to her intel, the man responsible for her father’s murder.

A flicker of rage burned in her chest, but she smothered it quickly. Emotions had no place here. Not if she wanted to survive.

“Drink?” a deep voice asked beside her.

Elena turned to find Marco Ricci, one of Lorenzo’s top men. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and carried the weight of years in the underworld. He was also her way in.

“No le digo que no a un buen bourbon (I don’t say no to a good bourbon),” she replied with a teasing smile in her Spanish accent, slipping seamlessly into her new identity.

“Elena Russo,” she had introduced herself when she first made contact with Marco two weeks ago. A woman looking for excitement, for power, for something more. She’d played the part well enough for Marco to take interest, and tonight, she was about to meet the king himself.

Marco handed her a glass before nodding toward the VIP section. “Boss wants to meet you.”

Her fingers tightened around the drink. This was it. The moment she had been waiting for.

“You need to impress him, he doesn’t just allow anyone in the family and it’s hard to gain his trust,” Marco warned.

“Estoy preparada (I’m prepared),” Elena said, letting out a slow breath, flashing Marco an easy smile before following him through the club. Every step she took felt like walking toward the edge of a cliff, one she had no choice but to jump off.

As she approached the booth, Lorenzo’s gaze lifted, locking onto her like a predator assessing prey. Up close, he was even more devastating. There was an undeniable magnetism about him, the kind that made people want to please and fear him.

“Elena Russo,” he murmured, his voice smooth as silk, but edged with something dangerous.

The way he said her name sent a shiver down her spine.

She met his gaze head-on. “Lorenzo DeLuca.”

A slow smirk curved his lips as he gestured to the seat across from him. “Sit.”

She did, carefully. Every movement was calculated. He leaned back, watching her with a mix of amusement and curiosity, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.

“You’re new.”

“I go where the thrill is,” she said, tilting her head slightly.

Lorenzo’s smirk deepened. “And you think you’ll find it here?”

“I know I will. The DeLuca family is a formidable force, radiating an aura of power that commands both reverence and fear. Their influence stretches through every corner of Madrid, and their very name inspires awe. I want to be a part of that,” Elena replied, flashing Lorenzo a confident smile while maintaining steady eye contact.

“I see you have done your research,” Lorenzo said, his gaze lingering on the striking woman before him.

“Sé lo que quiero (I know what I want),” Elena said.

A beat of silence stretched between them, charged and unspoken.

Then, he chuckled, low and rich. “I like a woman who knows what she wants.”

Elena smiled, but inside, her heart pounded. She was playing with fire, sitting across from the man she had every reason to hate.

She wanted to reach out to him and put a dagger in his heart, making him suffer unimaginable pain for what he did to her father.

“Hola! (Hello),” Lorenzo’s voice brought her back.

“Lo siento, perdóname( I’m sorry, forgive me),” Elena quickly said and got back into character.

“Marco tells me you just returned to Madrid from New York. What work were you doing there, and why did you come back?” Lorenzo questioned.

“I worked as an escort for a drug baron. I was sold as a young girl, but I eventually gained my freedom. Now I’m back in my motherland—I need a job and a family. I want a fresh start,” Elena replied.

Lorenzo watched her silently as he exhaled smoke from his cigar. He knew that many girls from Madrid are being trafficked out of the country every year, with only a few ever managing to return.

“How did you gain your freedom? Why would they let a beautiful girl like you escape?” Lorenzo asked.

Elena sighed. She understood that he was testing her, trying to verify the authenticity of her story. She knew that her next answer had to be convincing—any misstep could blow her cover.

Elena met Lorenzo’s gaze, her expression carefully composed. She knew hesitation could make her look suspicious, so she exhaled softly and answered with quiet confidence.

“I didn’t escape,” she said. “I earned my freedom.”

Lorenzo raised a brow, intrigued but unconvinced. He waited for her to continue.

“The man who owned me—Ricardo Edwin—was powerful but paranoid. He didn’t trust his men, let alone the women around him. I paid attention, listened to every conversation, and learned how his empire operated. I made myself useful, not just as an escort, but as someone who handled his money, his meetings—his secrets.”

She leaned back slightly, letting her words sink in.

“Eventually, I knew enough to be dangerous. Ricardo started to rely on me and I became like his personal assistant but his son, the next of kin didn’t like that, he didn’t have as much information as I had. Ricardo got sick and was diagnosed with leukemia. When he was on his sick bed, I begged him to let me go cause if anything happened to him, his son would kill me. He repaid me for my loyalty, helped fake my death, he let me go, and I assured him that he never had to worry about me becoming a problem. He agreed, but not without a price.”

Lorenzo studied her closely, the smoke curling from his cigar between them.

“What price?” he asked.

Elena’s jaw tightened, her fingers curling slightly against her lap. “He made sure I had nothing left. No money, no connections. He wiped my existence clean so I couldn’t betray him even if I wanted to.” She exhaled. “But that was fine. I didn’t need anything—except a new start.”

Lorenzo smirked, tapping the ash from his cigar. “Clever.”

Elena held his gaze. “I had to be.”

“Huh,” Lorenzo muttered, his expression unreadable as he signaled to one of his men, Luis.

“Yes, boss,” Luis responded, rushing to his side.

“Send word to our informant in New York. I want a full investigation on Ricardo Edwin—his operations, his contacts, and any ties he might have to Elena Russo,” Lorenzo ordered, his voice calm yet firm.

He raised his glass of wine, his eyes locking onto Elena’s with quiet intensity, watching for even the slightest reaction.