CHAPTER FOUR: Fire On Ice

It started with a shipment.

One of the Castellano Syndicate’s private docks lit up at midnight. Not with the usual quiet arrivals, but with gunfire and smoke. Kai arrived within ten minutes, dressed in black, hair wind-slicked, fury in every step.

Bodies lay sprawled across the dock. Three of his men were injured. One was dead.

“Moretti,” Kai muttered, jaw tight.

Rosa Vivaldi met him at the scene. “They didn’t even try to hide it,” she said, motioning to a black rose spray-painted on a container. “It’s a message.”

“No,” Kai replied coldly. “It’s a mistake.”

As he examined the scene, a familiar car pulled up. Sleek, black, unnecessarily expensive. The back door opened and out stepped Gianna Moretti, coat flowing behind her like a cape. No guards, no fear, just deliberate steps and that same infuriating calm.

Kai’s eyes narrowed. “You came in person? How generous.”

Gianna smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “I like to see the consequences of my decisions.”

“You’re admitting this was you?”

“I’m admitting nothing,” she said, crossing her arms. “But if it was me, it would’ve been cleaner. Your men would be less... alive.”

Rosa tensed beside Kai. “We could shoot her right now.”

“No,” Kai said, gaze locked on Gianna. “That’s what she wants. A war. Right?”

Gianna stepped closer, boots echoing on the blood-slick dock. “I want a balance of power. You’re overreaching.”

“You mean we’re winning.”

She leaned in, close enough for Kai to smell her perfume. “You’re cocky. That’s dangerous.”

He smirked. “You’re bold. That’s fatal.”

Their eyes clashed in silence, sharp and heavy. Gianna tilted her head, watching him like a puzzle. “You’re different when it’s not your meeting room.”

“And you’re exactly the same. Arrogant. Overdressed. And wrong.”

Her lips parted slightly, as if to retort, but something in his eyes held her still. Just for a moment. Then she pulled back, expression cool. “I’ll see you soon, Castellano.”

She walked away without looking back.

Kai watched her go, tension tightening across his shoulders like a second skin. He hated the way her presence lingered. Like smoke in his lungs.

Later, back at headquarters, Marsh found him staring at the black rose Gianna had left behind.

“I don’t like how she moves,” Marsh said. “Like she knows something we don’t.”

“She does,” Kai muttered. “She knows how to get under my skin.”

Gianna’s past didn’t start with luxury.

Born to a mother who died too young and a father who was already carving a criminal empire, Gianna learned early how to survive in a man’s world. Alessio didn’t want a daughter, not one who asked too many questions or watched him too closely.

But she was always watching.

She studied the way he spoke to men, the way he manipulated silence, the way power shifted in a room before blood was ever spilled.

By sixteen, she was fluent in lies and loyalty. By eighteen, she was overseeing cleanups, learning how to make bodies disappear. Alessio still treated her like decoration at meetings, but behind the scenes, she was pulling strings.

She learned to be the rose, yes, but never without the thorn.

Now, at twenty-four, she was stepping out of Alessio’s shadow, and planning to cast her own.

Two days after the docks, Gianna and Kai met again. This time, it was at an underground auction. Both families had sent representatives to bid on a rare set of codes tied to European smuggling routes.

Of course, neither expected the other to show up in person.

Gianna arrived first. Slicked back hair, crimson lipstick, black silk like armor. The room bent around her, though no one touched her. She walked through it like she owned it.

Then Kai entered.

And every sound in the room dulled.

They saw each other instantly. She was seated, legs crossed, sipping champagne like it bored her. He stood tall, in a dark navy suit, the perfect contrast to her midnight black.

He sat beside her without invitation.

“Planning to outbid me or just distract me?” he asked, voice low.

“Can’t I do both?” she replied without looking at him.

“I’m not in the mood for games.”

“Too bad. I am.”

The auction began, numbers flying fast. The item came up, and immediately, Gianna raised her card. Calm. Unbothered.

Kai raised his.

She raised again.

So did he.

It became a war of wills. Not money. Not power. Just them. Heat behind every number. Ice in every glance.

In the end, the auctioneer called it, sold to Gianna Moretti.

She turned to him, victorious, that smirk crawling across her lips again.

“You’re slipping, Castellano.”

Kai stood slowly, brushing invisible lint from his jacket. “You only won because I let you.”

Gianna leaned closer, her voice barely a whisper. “Keep telling yourself that.”

And with that, she left again, dragging the air out of the room behind her.

Kai watched her walk away, again.

And cursed himself for the way his heart raced when she did.