LOGINThe morning air was crisp, humming with quiet promise. Liana arrived early at her studio, the city barely awake as golden light stretched across the skyline. The building smelled faintly of fresh paint and ambition — her sanctuary, her world.
Her staff wouldn’t arrive for another hour, and she relished the silence. The hum of sewing machines was still, sketches neatly arranged across her desk. It was her favorite time — when dreams felt possible and the world hadn’t yet intruded.She had barely settled into her chair when a knock sounded on the glass door.At first, she thought it was one of the guards Viktor had assigned to her. But when she looked up, her heart faltered.Viktor Moretti.He stood there, suited in charcoal gray, his presence filling the doorway like a storm barely contained. Even in the morning light, he radiated danger and refinement in equal measure. His eyes — steel and shadow — found hers instantly.He didn’tThe morning sun filtered through the glass panels of Liana’s studio, painting golden lines across bolts of satin and chiffon. The faint hum of sewing machines filled the air, mingled with the soft laughter of her assistants.She was bent over her desk, sketching a new evening gown — something bold, sculptural, and impossibly feminine — when a soft knock interrupted her rhythm.Before she could respond, her assistant peeked in. “Miss Carver, there’s someone here to see you.”“Who is it?”The assistant hesitated. “She said her name is Aria Thorne.”Liana froze.Leo’s fiancée.She hadn’t seen Aria since that first visit to the mansion — months ago, when the elegant woman had stepped into their world like a quiet storm. Liana still remembered her — the immaculate posture, the faint scent of white lilies, the cool gaze that seemed to see through walls.“Send her in,” Liana said, standing quickly and smoothing her dre
The morning air was crisp, humming with quiet promise. Liana arrived early at her studio, the city barely awake as golden light stretched across the skyline. The building smelled faintly of fresh paint and ambition — her sanctuary, her world.Her staff wouldn’t arrive for another hour, and she relished the silence. The hum of sewing machines was still, sketches neatly arranged across her desk. It was her favorite time — when dreams felt possible and the world hadn’t yet intruded.She had barely settled into her chair when a knock sounded on the glass door.At first, she thought it was one of the guards Viktor had assigned to her. But when she looked up, her heart faltered.Viktor Moretti.He stood there, suited in charcoal gray, his presence filling the doorway like a storm barely contained. Even in the morning light, he radiated danger and refinement in equal measure. His eyes — steel and shadow — found hers instantly.He didn’t
Morning came too soon, blinding and quiet.Liana woke to the sound of her phone buzzing endlessly. Her inbox was flooded — messages from her PR manager, stylists, and journalists, all asking the same thing: Was Viktor Moretti truly an investor in her company?She groaned, pulling the covers over her head.Yesterday had been a whirlwind. Leo’s fury, Viktor’s declaration, the contract — all of it felt like a dream she hadn’t wanted to wake up from. Except this dream came with headlines, secrets, and the weight of an entire empire watching her every move.Her door opened without warning.“Rise and shine, designer girl,” Dante sang, walking in with two cups of coffee. “You look like death warmed up in silk.”“Thanks,” she mumbled from under the blanket.He placed a cup on her nightstand and perched on the edge of her bed. “So… do we talk about it, or should I just pretend that I didn’t hear you signed a deal with a man
By the time dawn broke, Leo Carver was already on the road.He hadn’t slept. Not even for a minute. The rage burning in his veins made the steering wheel tremble beneath his hands as he cut through the city streets like a man possessed.The Moretti Tower loomed ahead — fifty stories of glass and shadow, the headquarters of the man who had just turned his sister’s name into a public scandal.Leo didn’t bother with security. The guards at the entrance recognized him instantly, their hesitation lasting only a second before the look in his eyes told them it would be smarter not to interfere.He took the private elevator straight to the top.When the doors opened, Viktor Moretti was already waiting for him.He stood by the window, dark suit immaculate, hands in his pockets, the skyline stretching endlessly behind him. His posture was relaxed — too relaxed — and it only made Leo angrier.“Carver,” Viktor said without turning a
By morning, the world had already turned upside down.Liana woke to the sound of her phone vibrating nonstop on the nightstand. Half-asleep, she groaned and reached for it — only to freeze when she saw the flood of notifications lighting up her screen.Hundreds of them.Her name was everywhere.Her picture was everywhere.And not just any picture — it was her and Viktor Moretti, stepping out of the private elevator last night. The angle, the lighting, the timing — everything about it screamed scandal.“Mystery woman spotted with notorious mafia lord.”“Viktor Moretti’s secret girlfriend revealed?”“Who is Liana Carver — sister of billionaire Leo Carver — and why is she linked to the underworld’s most dangerous man?”Her blood ran cold.She sat up abruptly, hands shaking as she scrolled. There were more pictures — Viktor’s hand at the small of her back, the car door opening for her, the faint smile on her lips
qThe restaurant Viktor chose wasn’t one that appeared on any map. It sat on the thirty-eighth floor of a private skyscraper, accessible only by a black-coded elevator that recognized his fingerprint. The place was all glass, silver, and quiet luxury — the kind of setting that whispered danger and wealth in equal measure. Liana had told herself a hundred times she wouldn’t come. She told herself it was reckless, stupid, exactly the kind of thing her brothers warned her about. And yet, she was there. She stepped out of the elevator in a simple but striking black dress — one of her own designs, sharp and elegant, with a silver belt that caught the dim light. Her heels clicked against the marble floor as she entered the restaurant’s private section. Viktor was already there. Of course he was. He stood near the window, phone in hand, city lights spilling across his profile like a painting in motion. When he looked up a







