Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

THE NEXT MORNING.......

Alex arrived at his new precinct in the heart of the city. Compared to the modest station he'd left behind in a small and quiet town, this one was a towering four-story building, buzzing with activity.

After asking for directions, he found the inspector’s office on the second floor. He knocked twice.

“Come in,” a soft, feminine voice called from inside.

He opened the door and stepped in. Behind the desk sat a woman who looked far too young to be in charge—early twenties at best—with long dark hair and sharp blue eyes. A phone was balanced between her shoulder and ear as she scribbled something into a notebook.

“Good morning, ma’am. I’m looking for Inspector Rosaline,” he said.

She ended the call with a quick goodbye, set the phone down, and looked up at him with a smile. “That would be me. You must be Alexander.” She stretched her hand towards him.

He blinked, momentarily shocked. She looked nothing like what he’d expected. Not that he doubted her competence, but... he hadn’t anticipated someone so effortlessly composed. Or young. He mentally slapped himself.

“Please, have a seat,” she offered. He sat, nodding politely as she reached for a pair of glasses and slid them on—like it was her way of getting serious.

“Your records speak volumes, Officer D’Angelo. That’s why I insisted that you be transferred to this precinct.”

She stood up, and walked over to a shelf stacked high with files. After a brief search, she pulled down a pink one and returned to her seat.

“Tell me, have you heard of the Romanos?”

She didn’t need an answer. The sharpness that crept into his eyes when she said the name said everything.

“They’ve turned this city into a warzone,” she said, her voice tight. “Drugs, firearms, human trafficking, murder... we know what they’re doing, but we don’t have the evidence. That’s where you come in.”

She passed him the file. Alex flipped through it, his jaw tightening when he reached a photo of Lucian—cigar in hand, smile as cold as sin.

“I need someone on the inside. Someone smart, capable, and invisible,” she said.

 “There’s a job opening for a bodyguard today at the Romano estate. You’ll pose as one of the applicants. Get in. Get close. Find out what we can use to bring them down.”

Alex snapped the file shut. “It’s about time they learned the law doesn’t kneel to power.” 

Rosaline smiled, impressed. She was glad that they both hated the Romanos. Who didn't?

She pulled out a single sheet from her drawer and handed it to him.

“This has the details. Good luck, Officer D’Angelo. Be careful—these people don’t forgive mistakes.” Her voice carried warning.

THE ROMANO MANSION

Dozens of men stood in a single line across the marble-floored foyer of the Romano mansion, waiting for their chance at the bodyguard job. Alex took his place at the end of the line, dressed in black trousers, a crisp white shirt, and a low-brimmed black hat.

Upstairs, Lucian Romano ran a hand through his disheveled hair as he descended the grand staircase, coffee in hand. He hadn’t slept well, and now he had to sift through this crowd to find someone reliable. The last bodyguard had turned out to be a thief, and he'd almost paid with his life.

His gaze scanned the line of applicants like he was trying to find out their deepest secrets until it landed on someone... familiar.

Him—The man from the restaurant. 

Bold, smart mouthed and Fearless.

Lucian took a seat at the head of the room, legs crossed, sipping from his mug. His eyes didn't leave Alex.

"You," he said, pointing. “Step forward.”

Alex raised a brow and gestured to himself, just to be sure, and Lucian nodded with a slow, smug grin.

As Alex stepped forward, Lucian turned to his right-hand man—Trout, a burly guy with his hair pulled into a short ponytail. “Send the rest away.”

Trout obeyed without question. One by one, the other applicants were dismissed until only Alex remained, the heavy click of the closing door echoing behind the last man.

Now alone, Alex stood with his hands behind his back, his posture composed, but inside, he was coiled tight. Lucian’s gaze swept over him slowly, inspecting every inch like he was something to be unwrapped.

“Strip,” Lucian said casually.

Alex blinked. “What?” he wasn't sure he'd Heard him correctly.

Lucian narrowed his eyes. “I said, strip. Down to your boxers.” he smirked.

When Alex didn’t move, Lucian leaned forward. “You think I don’t remember you, hothead? One minute you’re insulting my family in public, now you’re applying to protect me? Either you’re an idiot... or you’re dangerous. I want to see if you’re armed, or hiding anything else.”

Alex swallowed hard and nodded once. He could feel the rage stirring in his gut, but he held it down. Slowly, he unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off, then removed his vest. His belt followed, and then his pants dropped to the floor.

Now standing in nothing but his white boxers, his body on full display, Lucian took his time looking him over. But it wasn’t just admiration, Lucian was trying to read him. And what he saw… intrigued him.

“What’s that?” Lucian asked, pointing to the faint scars on Alex’s chest.

Alex’s eyes darkened. His jaw clenched.

“The only proof I have left that your family murdered mine.”

Lucian froze. Alex’s voice was quiet, but the pain bled through. “They broke into our home while we were eating dinner. I watched them shoot my parents, my little brother… and then they shot me. Twice. All because my father couldn’t repay a damn loan.”

Silence filled the room. Lucian said nothing. He just looked at him, really looked at him. For a moment, something flickered across his face.

 Regret? Shame? Curiosity?

Or maybe it was the realization that this wasn’t just business anymore.

This was personal.