Chapter Five Who is Marco's Father?

Aria's Pov

  Fiona blinked. “Wait… what? You want to marry Mr. De Luca?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re insane. You want to marry a man twice your age just to get back at Marco?”

  Aria shrugged, eyes blazing. “I don’t care. He ruined my life, and now I’ll ruin his.”

  Fiona grabbed both of Aria’s shoulders, trying to shake some sense into her. “Listen to yourself! You have a future, Aria! Don’t throw it all away because of a man who isn’t worth it!”

  Aria’s expression didn’t waver. “It’s not just revenge. It’s power. I’ll make sure he never forgets the mistake he made.”

  With that, she turned on her heel and stormed into the bathroom.

  Fiona sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing her temples. “This girl is crazy…”

  Within minutes, Aria emerged, dressed in a tight black gown that clung to her curves like a second skin. It dipped dangerously low in the front, revealing just enough cleavage to make any man lose control.

  “You’re seriously going through with this?” Fiona asked, but Aria didn’t reply.

  Instead, she slipped on her heels, dabbed on a bold red lipstick, and walked out with a smirk.

  The De Luca mansion loomed before her like a modern-day fortress, tall, imposing, and shrouded in wealth and mystery. Its dark marble façade gleamed under the morning sun, and the iron gates stood tall, guarded by two men in black suits. Ivy crawled up one side of the stone wall, adding a touch of old-world charm to the otherwise sleek exterior.

  Aria's Pov

  I took a deep breath.

  Watch out, Marco. I’m coming for you.

  The guards recognized me immediately, Marco’s fiancée. They gave me a brief, confused look but stepped aside, allowing my entry.

  Inside, the mansion was quiet, eerily so. The floors were polished to a shine, and expensive artwork adorned the walls. Every step echoed in the vast hallway, her heels clicking rhythmically on the marble floor.

  With every step i took, flashes of Marco’s betrayal came back, how i found him in bed with another woman on our engagement day. The fact that he didn't even try to come after me. The way he destroyed me.

  I shoved the memories aside.

  As i turned a corner, i spotted a maid carrying a tray of drinks. I stopped her.

  “Where is Mr. Damian De Luca’s room?” i asked.

  The maid blinked, startled, then pointed toward the east wing. “First door on the left, ma’am.”

  I gave a curt nod and headed in that direction. My heart pounded in her chest, but my face remained composed.

  I stood before the door, my hand raised to knock, then hesitated.

  What if he turns me away? What if he kills me? He's a Mafia Don, I'm sure he has killed so many people before. 

  I pushed the doubts aside.

  I raised her hand to knock when a deep, commanding voice from inside said, “Come in.”

  I froze.

  That voice.

  My heart skipped a beat. It was deep, masculine… familiar.

  Why does this voice sound so familiar?

  A chill ran down my spine.

  Who is he...?

  My fingers hovered on the doorknob as the truth trembled just out of reach.

 I stepped into the study, her heels clicking softly against the cold marble floor. The room was dimly lit, neither too bright nor completely dark, casting eerie shadows on the obsidian-colored furniture. Everything was black. The curtains, the walls, even the chandelier above her head had black crystals dangling from it. It felt less like a study and more like the lair of a man who controlled shadows.

  Her heart pounded.

  And then she saw him.

  He was seated behind a grand, high, backed leather chair, its back turned to her. The chair moved gently, side to side, as if he was deep in thought. She couldn't see his face, only the broad silhouette of a man with authority etched into his very stillness.

  Aria swallowed.

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Damian,” she said, keeping her voice steady, though her hands trembled at her sides.

  Silence.

  The air seemed to thicken with every passing second.

  She shifted on her feet. “My name is Aria Sinclair.”

  Still nothing.

  “I... I wanted to speak to you about something,” she continued, nerves tightening around her like a vice. “Actually... I would like to get married to you.”

  The silence that followed was deafening. The chair stopped moving.

  Aria blinked. “Umm... Mr. Damian? Did you hear what I said?”

  That’s when he spoke.

  His voice was calm, deep, and smooth like silk laced with steel. “You’re really bold.”

  The chair spun around.

  Aria’s breath caught in her throat.

  It was him.

  Her eyes widened. Her chest tightened as her mind replayed every second of that night at the club, the kiss, his touch, the way he made her feel things she never had before. It was him. The stranger she had thrown herself at. The man who left her gasping with just his fingers.

  “You...” she whispered, her voice almost failing her. “But how is this possible?”

  Damian De Luca. The infamous mafia Don. The man she had come to marry out of revenge... was the very man who had undressed her soul the night before.

  “You’re Marco’s father?” she asked, disbelief painting every word.

  Damian leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips as if he enjoyed her shock. “Yes,” he said with a slow nod. “I’m Mr. Damian De Luca.”

  He stood and began walking toward her, his movements graceful and deliberate, like a predator approaching prey.

  Aria instinctively stepped back.

  Damian’s smirk deepened. “Seems like you couldn’t get over last night. You followed me home?”

  She stiffened. “No, I didn’t know—”

  “You didn’t know what?” he interrupted, stopping mere inches from her. His scent, something dark and masculine, wrapped around her like a cloak.

  He raised his hand and gently touched her lower lip.

  Her breath hitched. Her body betrayed her again, leaning slightly into his touch.

  “You seem terrified,” he murmured, his eyes darkening. “Strange, considering how eager you were for me to touch you last night.”

  Aria’s back hit the wall behind her. She was trapped. Her mind screamed for her to speak, to push him away, to regain control.

  “I... I was drunk,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean—”

  “You said you liked danger,” he reminded her, cutting her off again, leaning in until their lips were almost touching.

  “I didn’t know who you were,” she breathed.

  “But now you do.”

  His voice was hypnotic, each word pulling her deeper into the web she had unknowingly stepped into.