Chapter 5: First Kiss

Enzo Moretti stood in his private office overlooking the cliffs, a glass of aged whiskey in hand. The morning meeting had gone exactly as expected. The syndicate were furious about the Rossi retaliation already brewing, but they were loyal. Fear and respect kept them in line. That was how he maintained power.

Yet his mind kept drifting to her.

Elena Vitale. She was one hell of a lady.

He had watched the security feeds earlier. She had spent the last hour pacing the garden terrace like a caged lioness, beautiful and defiant even in simple clothes. The bandage on her hand was a reminder of how fragile this situation was. One wrong move and the delicate balance could shatter.

“Boss,” Marco said from the doorway. “We’ve got movement. Three Rossi cars spotted on the coastal road. They’re heading this way. Fast. Looks like they’re testing our defenses.”

Enzo’s jaw tightened. “They’re getting bold. How many men?”

“Enough to cause problems if they breach the outer perimeter.” Marco hesitated. “They want the girl. Alive, preferably. They’re screaming betrayal.”

A dangerous glint flashed in Enzo’s eyes. “They won’t touch her.” He set the glass down with controlled force. “Double the guards on the cliffs. I’m going to her now. Keep me updated.”

He moved through the villa with predatory grace, his footsteps silent but purposeful. When he stepped onto the lower terrace, Elena was standing at the railing, hair whipping in the sea breeze. She looked like a goddess of vengeance and beauty wrapped in one fiery package.

“Elena,” he called, voice sharp.

She turned, eyes narrowing. “Come to check on your prisoner?”

“No time for games.” He closed the distance in long strides. “Rossi men are approaching. You need to get inside. Now.”

Her face paled for a split second before defiance returned. “Let them come. Maybe they’ll take me off your hands.”

Enzo’s hand shot out, gripping her arm, not hard enough to bruise, but firm enough to remind her who was in control. “Donna sciocca. (Silly woman)" He cursed in Italian. "If they get you, they won’t be gentle. They think you helped orchestrate Marco Rossi’s death. You’ll be lucky if they kill you quickly.”

He pulled her toward the villa doors. Elena resisted, digging her heels in.

“I’m not your property to drag around—”

A sharp crack echoed in the distance. Gunfire. That was very close.

Enzo cursed and yanked her against his chest, shielding her with his body as he rushed them both inside. More shots rang out. His men returning fire from the perimeter. The villa’s reinforced walls muffled the sound, but the tension in the air was electric.

“Stay down,” he growled, pushing her behind a heavy marble column in the main hall. His hand stayed on her waist, holding her there.

Elena’s breathing was ragged. “This is your fault. You brought this war to my life.”

“My fault?” Enzo turned, crowding her against the cool marble. His dark eyes burned with intensity. “Your father sold you to a monster to save his own skin. I took you from that altar and gave you protection. You should be thanking me.”

“Thanking you?” She shoved at his chest, but he didn’t budge. “For kidnapping me? For killing a man in front of God and everyone?”

The gunfire intensified outside. Shouts from his men filtered through the windows. Enzo’s body pressed closer to hers instinctively, shielding her from any potential threat. Their faces were inches apart. He could see the fire in her eyes, the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

“You have no idea what I saved you from,” he said, voice low and rough. “But keep pushing me, Elena, and I’ll show you exactly who I am.”

Their eyes locked. The air crackled with what seemed like months, years, of pent-up tension and something far more strong. Desire.

Elena’s lips parted. “I hate you.”

“I simply don't care,” Enzo's voice rang out.

He crashed his mouth down on hers in a searing, angry kiss.

There was nothing gentle about it. It was pure possession. Teeth and heat and raw need. Elena stiffened for half a second, then kissed him back just as fiercely, her fingers curling into his shirt as if she wanted to tear it off… or push him away. Maybe both.

Enzo cupped the back of her neck, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. She tasted like espresso and defiance, and it drove him wild. Her body melted against his for one intoxicating moment before she bit his lower lip. Hard.

He pulled back slightly, breathing heavily, a drop of blood on his lip. A dark, satisfied smile curved his mouth.

“You bit me,” he said, voice husky.

“You deserved it,” she shot back, but her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were glazed with the same hunger he felt.

Another round of gunfire echoed outside, closer this time. Enzo’s expression hardened instantly. He pressed his forehead to hers for a brief second.

“This isn’t over,” he promised, voice dark with intent. “But right now, you stay here. Do not move until I come back for you.”

He brushed his thumb across her swollen lower lip once, then pulled away. The loss of warmth from the contact was obvious.

“Marco!” he barked, already moving toward the security room. “Status!”

As he strode away, Enzo touched his bleeding lip and allowed himself a small, half smile.

Elena Vitale was going to be the death of him.

Or the making of him. Either way, she was his now.