SCARLETT
“Dad.”
Adrian turned slowly, still buttoning his cuff as he faced the doorway of his study. “Lucas.”
Lucas stepped inside, jaw tight, hands shoved into the pockets of his tailored slacks. The tension clung to him like a second skin.
“About what happened at the gala,” he started.
But Adrian cut him off, voice calm but clipped. “She helped us. That journalist helped us. She hurt Vincent’s reputation, and in doing so, she gave me leverage. She’ll be useful.”
Lucas exhaled hard through his nose. “Dad, I wanted to tell you something, but you’re not letting me speak. That journalist is my ex-girlfriend.”
Adrian paused. His fingers stilled at the final button.
“She’s the one?”
Lucas nodded once. “Scarlett Hayes.”
Adrian didn’t respond right away. He poured himself a drink instead—neat, no ice—and took a slow sip, eyes narrowing on the amber liquid like it held the answers.
Lucas stepped forward. “We were together for three years. She was going to move in with me. I was going to propose.”
“Then why is she here?” Adrian asked, tone level.
Lucas faltered.
Adrian tilted his head. “Why is she here, Lucas? Why didn’t you marry her if she meant so much?”
Lucas’s jaw flexed. “I… made a mistake.”
A muscle ticked in Adrian’s jaw, but he stayed silent.
“I slept with someone else,” Lucas admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “It was one time. I was drunk, angry. She found out.”
Adrian didn’t blink. “Let me guess. You slept with her friend.”
Lucas swallowed hard. “Best friend.”
Adrian let out a low chuckle—humorless and cold. “So you burned a good woman and now she’s in my bed.”
Lucas’s eyes flashed. “She’s playing you.”
Adrian raised a brow. “You think I don’t know that?”
Lucas went still.
“I knew she had an angle the second she kissed me,” Adrian said, swirling the drink. “She’s sharp. Calculated. And I like that.”
“Dad, I don't want her close to you, I still love her.” Lucas said.
Adrian downed the rest of his drink and walked past his son, stopping just long enough to add, “You had your chance, Lucas. You lost her.”
“Dad.” Lucas said, his voice shaking. “I made a mistake. I’m not perfect—”
“No, how many times have I warned you not to treat ladies badly?,” Adrian snapped, stepping closer until they were nearly chest to chest. “You cheated on a woman like her and expected her to stay. You don’t deserve her.”
Lucas’s nostrils flared. “And you do?”
Adrian didn’t blink. “I didn’t say that. But I will have her.”
Lucas clenched his fists. “You don’t even know her.”
A ghost of a smile tugged at Adrian’s mouth. “No. But I’m going to. Every inch of her. Every secret, every scar. And unlike you, I won’t waste it.”
Adrian’s eyes flicked to the desk behind him. He grabbed the remote with a chilling efficiency, and the screen on the wall lit up. Lucas’s face drained of color as the video began.
It was from the club—Lucas, drunk and reckless, with a woman on his arm. His hand slid down her waist, his lips pressed to her neck. The camera angle was sharp, showing every moment of his lack of restraint.
“If this gets out, Lucas.” Adrian said and then he paused. “I think the company would be in great hands if you hand it back to me.”
Lucas’s breath hitched. “No… Dad, please don’t—”
“It’s been decided already. This should teach you courtesy,” Adrian said, voice sharp but calm, like a final blow that didn’t need to be shouted. He didn’t wait for a response—just turned on his heel and disappeared into his room, the door closing with a quiet, absolute click.
—
The next morning, the knock was soft, almost polite. The door creaked open and a young maid stepped inside with a tray in her hands and a neatly folded dress over her arm.
“Good morning, ma’am,” she said with a stiff smile. “Mr. Adrian asked us to serve you. This is your outfit for the day. Please change and come downstairs.”
I sat up on the edge of the bed, blinking the sleep from my eyes, trying to recall if last night had really happened—or if my mind was just playing sick games.
A dress?
He was planning something.
“Is that the key?” I asked, nodding to the tray.
She hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Hand me the key. I’ll take a bath and come down.”
She stepped forward, placing the tray down, but then straightened and said quietly, “Mr. Adrian asked me to stay with you until you’re ready.”
I met her eyes. “You don’t have to, I am not his child.”
The maid looked unsure for a second but then gave a small nod and walked out, the door closing behind her.
I didn’t waste a second. I snatched my bag from under the bed—still zipped the way I left it—grabbed the tray, and quietly stepped into the hallway.
But the moment I descended the stairs, I knew I wasn’t getting far.
Two suited men stood near the foyer, arms crossed, like statues that could kill.
Adrian was already there, waiting by the dining table like he’d known I’d try this. Of course he did.
He turned, hands in his pockets, that infuriating calm plastered on his face.
“Going somewhere?” His voice was soft, but laced with steel.
“I’m a journalist, Adrian,” I said, standing straighter. “I have a job. I need to get back to work.”
He walked toward me slowly, every step calculated. “Your work?”
“Yes.”
“I bought that company already,” he said casually. “So now… I’m your boss.”
My heart dropped. “What?”
Adrian’s lips twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Williams now works under me. Which means you do too.”
“You’re lying.”
“Call him. Do it. Right here. Use your phone. To make it more real to you.”
I fumbled for my phone, my fingers suddenly shaking. I dialed William, praying to hear his voice and prove Adrian wrong.
He picked up on the first ring. “Scarlett.”
“William,” I said, keeping my voice steady, “Tell me it’s not true. Tell me Adrian Moretti didn’t buy the company.”
There was a long pause.
Then William sighed. “Scarlett… I tried to fight it. But yes. He made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. The company’s his.”
I didn’t speak. Couldn’t. I stared at Adrian, whose eyes never left mine, as if he was reading every flicker of panic inside me.
“I’m sorry,” William said, his voice low. “He’s not someone I can go up against.”
I ended the call, William had used me and now he betrayed me all for money.
Adrian stepped closer, so close I could feel the heat radiating off him.
“I told you,” he murmured, “I don’t like to be challenged.”
“You’re insane.”
“No. I’m obsessed,” he said, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering just a moment too long. “With you.”
“Do you even think doing this makes me want you?” I asked, my voice raw.
His eyes darkened. “No. But it means you can’t leave.”
I swallowed, fury and fear warring in my chest. “You think owning my job gives you ownership over me?”
“No,” he said, voice calm but deadly. “But I do own every door you think leads out of this life. You’re not walking out until I let you.”
He reached for my hand and placed a folded paper in it.
“What is this?”
“Your new contract,” he said. “With my company.”
I unfolded it. There was no NDA. No legal threat. Just one clause that stood out:
Assigned directly to Adrian Moretti. Indefinite duration. Direct report. Non-transferable.
“Hell no.”
“I told you,” Adrian said, stepping even closer. “You’re mine now.”
I stared at him. “Is this fun?”
“No, Scarlett. I want you and after last night, I crave more of you.”
I tore the paper in half and threw it to the floor.
Adrian’s gaze didn’t waver. “I expected that. But the next time you try to walk away, there won’t be guards at the door.”
“What does that mean?”
He stepped back, smoothing his cuffs. “It means I won’t stop you. I’ll let you walk into whatever trap Vincent Romano has waiting for you. I won’t save you again.”
I stiffened. “You think you saved me?”
He smiled. “I know I did. You just don’t want to admit you needed to be saved last night.”
“I didn’t ask you to buy my life.”
“No. But you kissed me. You made a move. And in my world, that has consequences.”
“Your world is sick.”
Tony nodded curtly as he answered, “Yes, sir. I… I’m just about to send him the message.” His voice was low, laced with anxiety that mirrored the tension in the room.The conversation that followed between Adrian and Tony was sparse, every syllable chosen with calculated precision. “Two minutes, Tony. I need him to understand that his sister has just crossed a line,” Adrian murmured, his tone both authoritative and unsettlingly cool. His eyes briefly met Scarlett’s in the reflective surface of a polished table, and for a moment, the fierce loyalty that protected her was visible in his gaze.Scarlett’s voice broke the silence, raw and sardonic. “You think you can decide who gets to be a father? Did you really believe I was going to let you—” She swallowed hard, the words tangling with anger and hurt, “—protect me like some child? I guess your son didn’t tell you? He wouldn't, now let me tell you, I was once your son’s girlfriend, this would do.”Adrian’s jaw tightened, the only respons
Tony hesitated in the doorway of Adrian’s study, voice low. “Sir, if we harm Kira, Marco will come for retribution. He’s dangerous in his own right, and it could ruin your reputation, not now that you are friends with the president. This could ruin everything you have been working for.”Adrian didn’t turn from the window. His silhouette was rigid, features set like chiseled stone against the moonlight. “Do I look like I care?” His tone was flat, almost amused.Tony swallowed. “We need her alive to find Scarlett.”Adrian’s shoulders squared. He spun, twin embers of fury and something darker in his eyes. “Bring Kira to me. Alive. And bring Scarlett, too.” He paused, as though savoring the moment. “If you can’t find Scarlett just bring me Kira.” With that, he flicked a hand, dismissing Tony, and returned to the window.——The Mercedes coasted to a halt outside Kira Alvarez’s penthouse. Two black SUVs flanked it. The valet, accustomed to discreet arrivals, nodded as Tony’s team emerged—le
The room was dim when they dragged Williams in. The curtains were drawn, the chandelier above them casting a lazy golden hue on Adrian’s face as he sat in silence, the ice in his glass melting slower than his patience.“Where is Scarlett?” Adrian asked calmly, swirling the liquid in his tumbler.Williams’s hands were trembling slightly, eyes darting to Tony standing by the wall with arms crossed.“I—I don’t know where she is, Mr. Adrian. She didn’t come to my place or the office. I’ve been calling her for days, but she’s not answering. I swear,” he said, voice shaking, fear seeping through every syllable.Adrian offered a thin smile. “You hired her, didn’t you? That means you must’ve had her employment file. Home address. References.”Williams nodded quickly, fumbling with his phone. “Yes. Yes. I—I have it here.”He pulled up a contact card and handed it over. Tony leaned in and squinted at the screen, then his brow furrowed.“This is Lucas’s address,” Tony muttered.Adrian’s head tur
That night, the Moretti estate didn’t sleep. The chandeliers were still glowing past midnight. The air smelled of burnt tobacco, gun oil, and spilled brandy. Adrian was in the drawing room—his sanctuary turned battlefield—shirt unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, knuckles bruised. An untouched steak bled onto fine china. He hadn’t touched it. Couldn’t. Not when his entire empire was searching, but no one had answers.The glass in his hand trembled slightly, not from fear—he didn’t know fear—but from restraint. Barely contained fury. Another one of his men stepped in, face drawn.“We checked every checkpoint between here and the coast,” the man reported, voice low, wary. “Nothing. No sighting. Not even a whisper.”Adrian downed his drink, eyes vacant.“We bribed a few customs officers. Still nothing,” another said, entering. “It’s like she vanished.”The silence thickened. Then—CRASH.Adrian hurled the tumbler against the marble column. It shattered, spraying glass and whiskey across the f
SCARLETT“Kill me then. It’s better than staying locked in your mansion,” I said flatly.The barrel of the gun met my forehead.I didn’t flinch.But I didn’t expect what came next—Adrian dropped the gun onto the table with a dull thud, grabbed me by the waist, and crashed his mouth against mine.I shoved at his chest, but his grip was iron. Controlling. Desperate.And it wasn’t a kiss.It was a threat wrapped in silk.He kissed like he was claiming something—something he thought already belonged to him.I broke free with a gasp, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “You’re insane.”“Wow,” a cool voice rang behind us. Feminine. Bored. “The love story of a journalist and a mafia lord. Incredible. Someone should write a book.”We both turned at the same time.I froze.Adrian’s jaw tightened.“Isabella,” he said, tone clipped.The woman was stunning. Sculpted features, long dark hair, legs that could make a priest sin. And eyes—cold and calculating. I’d seen her in tabloids years ago
SCARLETT“Put me down!” I shouted, pounding my fists against his back, but Adrian didn’t flinch. Not once.He kicked the door open with one smooth motion, walked into the room like he owned the goddamn world—and me—and dropped me onto the bed.“You’re insane,” I spat, scrambling up.Adrian stood there, calm as ever, loosening his tie like he hadn’t just manhandled me into a locked room. “A night should never feel this long with me?” he repeated, brows raised. “Interesting way to beg for more.”“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” I snapped.He shrugged, flicking open the top button of his shirt. “Then say what you mean next time. Clarity is sexy.”I lunged for the door, but he beat me there, hand on the knob. His other hand reached behind him to lock it with a click.“Adrian, don’t do this.”“I’m not doing anything,” he said, voice low. “You’re the one playing games.”I grabbed the vase from the side table and smashed it on the ground between us. The sound of shattering glass fi