Chapter 2 - A dangerous Proposition

Elena remained composed as Luis nodded at Lorenzo’s order and swiftly exited the room. She had expected this—Lorenzo wasn’t the type of man to take anyone’s words at face value, especially not a stranger’s. He would dig into her past, unearth every detail, searching for cracks in her story. She had to be ready for that.

Just as the thought settled, the heavy VIP doors swung open, and a tall, lean man strolled in with an air of arrogance that instantly set him apart.

Matteo DeLuca.

The infamous younger cousin of Lorenzo. Though he lacked the quiet, calculating presence of his cousin, he carried himself with the reckless confidence of a man who had never heard the word no.

His dark eyes swept the room before settling on Elena, and the interest was immediate. A slow, knowing smirk curled his lips as he openly drank her in, his gaze lingering in a way that made it clear he was used to taking what he wanted.

“Matteo,” Lorenzo said, gesturing lazily toward Elena. “Meet Elena Russo. She’s looking for a place in the family.”

Matteo’s smirk widened as he stepped closer, reaching for Elena’s hand without hesitation. His fingers brushed against her skin, his touch lingering just long enough to make a point.

“Bella,” he murmured, his voice smooth with unmistakable flirtation. “If you’re looking for a place, I’d be happy to make room for you.”

Elena met his gaze, her expression unreadable, though she could feel the weight of Lorenzo’s eyes on her, watching—waiting to see how she would respond.

“Gracias (Thank you)” Elena replied courtly.

Lorenzo watched the exchange between Elena and Matteo with mild amusement, though his patience for his cousin’s antics was wearing thin knowing he would flirt with anything on a skirt. He tapped his fingers against his glass before speaking.

“Let the lady be, Matteo. Don’t make her uncomfortable,” Lorenzo said, his tone even but laced with authority. “Elena, go enjoy yourself. The club is yours for the night.”

Elena arched a brow but didn’t argue. She knew when she was being dismissed.

“As you wish,” she said smoothly, offering Lorenzo a small nod before slipping her hand free from Matteo’s lingering grasp.

Matteo, however, wasn’t as quick to let go. His eyes followed her as she turned toward the exit, watching the sway of her hips with a smirk.

“She’s an interesting one,” Matteo mused, still staring after her.

Lorenzo exhaled sharply and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Focus, Matteo. We have more important matters to discuss.”

Elena stepped out of the VIP section and back into the heart of the club, immediately enveloped by the pulsing energy of the crowd. The music was louder now, a deep bass thrumming through the floor as bodies moved in sync under the flashing neon lights.

Laughter, conversations, and the occasional clinking of glasses filled the air, the atmosphere buzzing with luxury and indulgence.

She barely had a moment to take it all in before Marco appeared at her side, his sharp gaze studying her.

“How did it go?” he asked, his voice low enough to cut through the noise but not draw attention.

Elena gave him a measured look before responding, keeping her tone casual.

“Lorenzo didn’t throw me out, so that’s a start.” She paused, glancing over her shoulder toward the VIP section. “He’s checking into my past. I expected as much.”

Marco smirked slightly. “He doesn’t take risks with outsiders. But if he finds your story to be true, you’ll have a place here. Maybe even a good one.”

Elena nodded, playing her role. “ “Eso es todo lo que pido(That’s all I ask).”

Marco studied her for another moment, as if trying to gauge whether she truly belonged here, then gave a slight nod.

“Enjoy yourself tonight,” he said before stepping away to tend to business elsewhere.

Elena watched him disappear into the crowd, then exhaled softly. This was her chance. She moved through the club, weaving between groups of people, letting her eyes subtly scan the room. She took mental notes—who was watching who, which corners were heavily guarded, and where the real business seemed to be happening.

She lingered near the bar, pretending to sip her drink while listening in on hushed conversations. A few men in designer suits spoke in rapid Spanish about shipments, coded phrases that hinted at illicit dealings. In another corner, a young woman whispered urgently into her phone before quickly slipping into a restricted area.

Elena was just considering how to get a closer look when a familiar presence interrupted her thoughts.

“Lost, Bella?”

She turned to see Matteo standing behind her, a smirk playing on his lips. His dark eyes gleamed with mischief, his posture relaxed but undeniably confident.

“Not at all,” she replied smoothly, tilting her head slightly. “Just getting to know my new surroundings.”

Matteo’s smirk widened as he stepped closer, closing some of the space between them. “Then allow me to be your guide.”

Matteo led Elena toward a quieter section of the club, the dim lighting casting flickering shadows across his sharp features. His grip was firm yet playful as he held her hand, his dark eyes drinking her in with unrestrained interest.

“Lorenzo tells me you used to be an escort,” he said casually as if discussing the weather.

“Yes, back in New York,” Elena replied, keeping her voice steady.

Matteo tilted his head, his smirk widening. “Wanna be my personal escort?” he asked, his fingers sliding down her wrist as he twirled her around and pulled her closer.

Elena felt a wave of irritation rise within her. The way Matteo looked at her—like she was something to be bought and owned—made her fingers twitch with the urge to reach for her gun and slap cuffs onto his wrists right then and there.

She could picture it so clearly: the way his arrogant smirk would vanish the moment he realized who she was. But she couldn’t afford to break character, not now.

Composing herself, she gently pulled her hand free and met his gaze with calm defiance. “I do not wish to do that anymore. I’m here for a fresh start.”

Matteo threw his head back with a short, mocking laugh.

“A fresh start?” he repeated, amusement laced in his voice. His eyes gleamed with something cruel as he took a step closer, lowering his voice. “What fresh start awaits a prostitute like you? Come on, don’t kid yourself.”

Elena’s jaw tightened, but she forced herself to stay still, to not react. She had dealt with men like him before—men who thought money and power gave them the right to degrade and own women. Still, every muscle in her body tensed, her fists curling at her sides as she fought the instinct to put him in his place.

Before she could craft a response, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, glancing at the screen.

Captain Reynolds.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Matteo’s eyes locked onto the caller ID, his expression shifting from amusement to suspicion in an instant. His gaze darkened as he took a step forward, tilting his head.

“Who’s calling you?” he asked, his voice low and edged with curiosity.