BOUND TO THE WRONG SISTER

[ IRIS’S POV ] The air to the grand ballroom of the Russo estate was thick with the scent of money, blood, and a thousand freshly cut roses. Chandeliers dripped light softly, making the room look alive. So much that it's reflecting off the polished marble floors where the elite of the underworld mingled. Tonight was not just a celebration, it was a truce, a public peace-making and alliance between the Russo and the Moretti families, and an end to a decade-long feud that had painted the streets of New York red. I hate galas. I hate the forced laughter that never reaches anyone’s eyes. The whispers behind crystal glasses, the way every glance weighed on me like a number written in blood. I would kill to be anywhere but here. My name is Iris Russo. Nineteen. Old enough to be exchanged, young enough to be ignored. I lingered where I always did, near the velvet curtains, half swallowed by shadow. A place where I would be hardly noticed or never. My dark red dress was simple, a

[ IRIS'S POV ]Bend me over? Did he just say he would bend me over? Fear crashed into me. So much so that I did not want anything more than to escape. From him. From the estate and all other things.He watched me, a low smile crossed his face like a flash and it was gone. “Relax. Iris. I would take you raw. Not now. And definitely not here. That would be in my house. My place, where you actually belong.”He leaned down, his face so close to mine that our noses almost touched.” I know everything about you. Iris. I know you hate the taste of champagne but like tea. I know you sneaked out to the garden at 2:00 AM when you couldn't sleep. And in the afternoon when you're bored. I know you have a birthmark shaped like a star on the small of your back.”My blood ran cold .” Have you been watching me? In my room ?”“From the trees. Through the lens of my camera. From the back of the cars you never noticed. “He confessed, His voice devoid of shame. In fact, he sounded proud. Obsessed, like

[ SALVATORE’S POV ]I wanted her to say she's not mine. To say she doesn't belong to me. But luck was on her side. She didn't.I leaned down, my face so close to hers that our noses almost touched.“I know everything about you. Iris. I know you hate the taste of champagne but like tea. I know you sneaked out to the garden at 2:00 AM when you couldn't sleep.I watched her. Letting my words and the meaning behind them sink into her body. “And in the afternoon when you're bored. I know you have a birthmark shaped like a star on the small of your back.”“From the trees. Through the lens of my camera. From the back of the cars you never noticed. “I confessed.“I watched you grow from a girl into a woman. I watched men try to approach you at school, men I had to….. discouraged from ever speaking your name again.” I added and I watched her eyes grow into a realization.“You’re insane,” She whispered.“I am obsessed,” I corrected, My hand moved from her hair to her throat, my thumb resting

[ IRIS’S POV ]The room fell into dead silence.My father’s head snapped towards me, his eyes narrowing with sudden suspicion. Blood drained from my face. My heart is beating loudly against my chest. Salvatore was exposing our meeting, but why? Sofia’s stare burned into my skin. She has asked me. And I had lied. That I hadn’t seen him. And I had never come face-to-face with the beast wearing human skin.“You were in the library?” My father’s voice slid over the room like a blade wrapped in gold. “What did we say about you sneaking off there late at night, Iris?”“Looking for a book,” I said, the lie cracking as it left my mouth.” I didn’t see anyone, not the guards, not Sir Salvatore.”Salvatore turned towards me as soon as the word sir left my mouth. A ghost of a smirk plays at his lips, the kind that makes my nerve flare and blood ache at the same time. His look tells me he would like me to repeat the word sir later, when it’s just the two of us. I looked away from him. If he th

[ SALVATORE’S POV ]The fake tears vanished from Sofia’s face in an instance replaced with something sharper. Seduction and determination. Slowly, deliberately, her fingers went to the strap of her white dress. She didn’t look down, not even once. Her eyes stayed on me, dark and unblinking, daring me to look away first.The fabric slid from her shoulder, then the other. She let it fall inch by inch, as if every movement was measured. The dress pooled at her feet in soft white folds.She stepped out of it without breaking eye contact. No rush, no shame. Just a quiet challenge hanging in the air between us.I didn’t raise my voice. Didn't ask her to stop her ridiculous show.“On your knees,” I said, calm as a verdict. “Walk slowly to me. Slowly.”She obeyed. She walked herself to the floor with delicate care, the movement unhurried, like she’s in a soap opera, almost irrelevant. Then she began to move towards me. One measured step at a time, her posture was graceful and intentional. S