His Sinful Empire

I pushed myself to my feet and crossed the apartment, turning on every light as I went. Bedroom. Bathroom. Kitchen. I checked every corner, every shadow, even though I knew I was alone. I grabbed my phone from my bag. My fingers hovered over the screen. Call the police. The thought barely formed before panic crashed over it. What would I even say? That I saw a murder? That the man who did it was connected to someone at the theater? That I recognized him from nights I had danced? That he recognized me. My chest tightened. Calling the police would not save me. It would make it worse. I had just watched a man get executed for talking. What would they do to someone who went to the authorities? No. No police. I tossed the phone onto the couch like it had burned me. I went to the kitchen and opened the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water with hands that still would not stop shaking. The plast

ENZO's POV I have watched her for six months. Every step. Every gesture. Every fleeting expression that crosses her face when she thinks no one is looking. It began with a photograph, sent to me with no sender, no signature. A simple note: Nina Nyx. Principal dancer. Daughter of Marco Santoro. Marco Santoro. The man responsible for everything I lost. My mother. My father? Long gone. Burned out. Broken. The information should have meant nothing to me at first. Just a lead, another intelligence thread. A potential trap. But I couldn’t look away. I told myself it was reconnaissance. Watching a target. Studying an enemy. That was the story I clung to in the daylight. But at night, when I sat in the shadows of the theater, the truth was darker. Watching her was like watching the sun. Too bright. Too hot. Too consuming. She moved like no one else I had ever seen, every line of her body deliberate, every gesture perfect. Ballet was her language, and I could read it all. The way her han

I stood slowly, smoothing down the dress even though my hands were shaking. “Where?” “Downstairs. Follow me.” He didn’t wait for me to agree. Just turned and walked out, expecting me to follow. I had no choice. The hallway was long and silent, our footsteps echoing against the floor. I tried to memorize the route. Left turn. Right turn. Past a painting of a woman in red. Past a door with gold handles. Anything that might help me later. We descended a grand staircase, the kind you see in movies. Curved. Elegant. Ridiculous. At the bottom, he led me through another hallway, then stopped in front of tall double doors. He knocked once. “Enter.” That voice. Deep. Calm. Like he owned every word that left his mouth. The man opened the door and stepped aside. I walked in. The room was enormous. Floor-to-ceiling windows flooded it with morning light. A long dining table stretched down the center, set with white linens and crystal glasses. Fresh flowers in the midd

I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, my heart still pounding. Every noise made me jump… footsteps in the hallway, a door closing somewhere, the hum of the old air conditioning unit. I couldn’t relax. After what felt like hours, I remembered my phone. I pulled it out of my pocket. Still dead. I needed to charge it. Required to call someone. Anyone. The police. The embassy. Someone who could help me get out of Italy. I looked around the small room. There was a lamp on the bedside table. I followed the cord down to the wall. The outlet. I plugged in my phone and waited. Nothing. The charging symbol didn’t appear. I unplugged it and tried again. Still nothing. “No. No no no.” I tried the other outlet near the desk. Dead. The one in the bathroom. Also dead. My chest tightened. What kind of hotel had no working outlets? I grabbed my key and headed for the door. I needed to complain. Someone needs to get this fixed. I couldn’t be stuck here with no way

The car ride back felt longer than before. Enzo sat beside me in silence, his presence filling the entire space. I pressed myself against the window, trying to put as much distance between us as possible. It didn’t help. I could still feel his hand on my throat. The weight of it. The control in his grip. My fingers brushed against my neck without thinking. The skin was still warm. I hated that I could still feel him there. We were almost there. Almost back to that mansion and that room. The life I didn’t choose. Then everything happened at once. Headlights. Bright and blinding. Coming straight at us. Fast. Too fast. “Shit!” The driver slammed on the brakes. I lurched forward, my body flying toward the front seat. But I didn’t hit it. Enzo’s arm shot out across my chest, catching me and holding me back with a force that knocked the air from my lungs. The car screeched to a stop. My heart was hammering. I couldn’t breathe. Enzo’s arm stayed pressed ag