Chapter 2

Aria's POV

Fragments of that night rushing back in vivid, shameful detail. The hotel room spinning from too much alcohol, his strong hands gripping my wrists above my head, the way he'd growled *"Look at me"* as he moved inside me. How I'd begged him not to stop, how he'd made me say his name over and over until my voice was hoarse. The complete surrender I'd never experienced before or since, the way he'd owned every inch of my body until I was nothing but sensation and need. My face burned with humiliation as I stared at the floor, willing myself to disappear.

Please don't say anything. Please don't humiliate me in front of everyone.

Damian stood before me for what felt like an eternity, his presence suffocating. I could feel his dark eyes studying me, cataloging every tremor, every sign of recognition. The other girls continued their work around us, but I was acutely aware that we were the center of attention—or rather, he was, and I was simply caught in his orbit.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low and controlled. "Tonight, we have important business. No one is to disturb the private meeting upstairs."

Relief flooded through me so suddenly I nearly swayed on my feet. He wasn't going to expose me. At least not here, not now.

But my relief was short-lived.

"Ah, but brother," Vito's voice cut through the air like a blade, "surely we need some entertainment for such a long evening?"

His eyes swept over the gathered girls like a predator selecting prey.

Several of the more experienced hostesses perked up immediately, recognizing an opportunity. Names were called, and the chosen girls hurried forward with practiced enthusiasm, their earlier nervousness replaced by professional charm.

Then Vito's gaze landed on me.

"Beautiful enough," he mused. "Certainly well-endowed." His eyes lingered on my curves with blatant appreciation. "But lacking in... sophistication. What do you think, brothers? Federico surely agrees with my assessment, but Damian..." He paused dramatically. "Damian might appreciate this type. After all, he excels at training everything—business ventures, unruly subordinates." His smile turned predatory. "Perhaps even women."

My blood turned to ice. I couldn't help myself—I glanced up at Damian, silently pleading with him not to destroy what little dignity I had left.

"You're absolutely right, Vito." His tone was conversational, almost bored. "I am quite skilled at training things. Particularly at dealing with the messes you create and cleaning up after incompetent waste of space."

The insult hit its mark. Vito's face darkened, his hand moving instinctively toward his jacket. "You—"

But Damian was already moving, sweeping past all of us with the fluid grace of a natural predator. His presence commanded the room even as he headed toward the stairs, dismissing us all without another glance.

Thank God. The breath I'd been holding escaped in a shaky exhale. I never wanted to serve Damian Cavalieri, never wanted to be alone in a room with him again. He was like a wild beast who had marked me, claimed me in ways I didn't want to remember. The way he'd made me beg, the way he'd stripped away every defense until I was nothing but need and submission beneath his hands...

I shuddered, wrapping my arms around myself.

"Everyone else continues working downstairs," Enzo announced, his voice cutting through my spiraling thoughts.

Perfect. I could handle regular customers—businessmen looking to unwind, tourists wanting to experience the "authentic" Italian nightlife. Simple drink service, polite conversation, nothing more. After the terror of nearly being selected for the Cavalieri brothers' entertainment, ordinary work felt like a blessing.

I threw myself into the familiar rhythm—taking orders, serving drinks, clearing tables. The mundane tasks helped calm my nerves, and for the first time in weeks, I felt almost normal. Just a girl doing her job, earning money for her sister's medical bills. Nothing complicated, nothing dangerous.

Then the gunshot shattered the illusion.

The sound cracked through the air like thunder, followed immediately by another. I screamed involuntarily, dropping the tray I'd been carrying. Glasses shattered against the floor as chaos erupted around me.

"Get down!" someone shouted.

"Was that—?"

"Upstairs!"

The other hostesses were crying, some diving behind the bar, others frozen in terror. I stood paralyzed in the middle of the floor, staring at the ceiling as if I could see through it to the private room above.

Heavy footsteps thundered down the stairs. Two men I didn't recognize emerged, carrying something between them—someone between them. A woman, her body limp, blood soaking through her white dress in spreading crimson stains.

She was barely conscious, her head lolling as they rushed past us toward the back exit. In the brief moment I saw her face, I recognized her—Valentina, one of the most experienced girls, someone who'd been working here for years.

The customers in the main bar were in full panic now, some demanding answers, others quietly settling their tabs and making quick exits. Nobody wanted to be around when the police showed up, if they showed up at all.

"She must have angered them," someone whispered behind me.

"The Cavalieris always carry guns."

"These men aren't ordinary businessmen—they're mafia! One wrong step and you're practically begging for death. Poor woman."

"I bet it was Damian who pulled the trigger. He never shows mercy."

The speculation swirled around me like poison, each whispered comment adding another layer of horror to the scene. My legs felt weak, and I gripped the nearest table for support.

What had happened up there? What had Valentina done wrong?

The questions hammered in my skull as Enzo came rushing down the stairs, his face pale but determined. He moved quickly through the room, speaking in low, urgent tones to the remaining customers, his hands making calming gestures.

Then his eyes found me across the crowded room.

"Aria." His voice cut through the noise with unmistakable authority. "They're short-staffed upstairs. You're coming with me."

Every drop of blood drained from my face. "What?"