Chapter 1

For three years, I loved Don Damien Costello, the city's devil. Then he dumped me for being too perfect.

So I went on a date with someone else.

I just didn't expect to run into trouble before my date even arrived.

"Miss Rossi, I hear you've been lonely lately?"

Lorenzo Benedetti’s voice slithered into my ear. It reeked of cheap booze.

He was the heir to the Benedetti family. One of Damien’s biggest rivals.

I took a step back. My hand tightened around my champagne flute.

My date wasn't here yet. We were supposed to meet at this charity gala.

"I don't know what you're talking about." I kept a polite smile plastered on my face.

Lorenzo moved closer. Malice gleamed in his eyes. "Don't play dumb, sweetheart. All of New York knows Damien Costello kicked you to the curb."

He reached for my face. "Why not give me a try? I promise I'm a lot warmer than that cold-blooded bastard."

"Back off."

"Control myself?" Lorenzo sneered. "Why should I? You're just Costello's cast-off."

My face burned.

The guests around us started to notice. Their whispers grew louder.

"Mr. Benedetti."

A low voice cut through the air.

I turned. A tall man was walking toward us.

He wore a perfectly tailored black tuxedo. Not a single thread on his bow tie was out of place.

His dark brown hair was slicked back. His gray-blue eyes were as cold as ice.

This was Julian Thorne.

Lorenzo’s face changed. "Thorne."

Julian stopped beside me. The air in the room shifted. His presence was a tangible thing.

"I think it’s time you rejoined your family." Julian’s voice was calm. But it held an authority you couldn't argue with. "Now."

Lorenzo gritted his teeth, but he backed down.

He knew the power of the Thorne family.

"This isn't over," he snarled at me, then turned and left.

I let out a long breath. But now I was facing another stranger.

"Thank you," I said.

Julian turned to me. The ice in his eyes was gone. Replaced by something I couldn't read.

"Isabella Rossi," he said. It wasn't a question.

"You know me?"

"All of New York high society knows you. I'm Julian." A slight smile touched his lips. "I'm more interested in why a smart woman like you ends up cornered by trash like him."

His bluntness shocked me.

Most men would hide behind polite chatter.

"Maybe I have a weak spot for trouble."

"No." He shook his head. "You just haven't learned how to use your power yet."

The whispers from the other guests continued.

Shame and anger mixed inside me. My cheeks were on fire.

"I need to get out of here," I whispered.

"Come with me."

Julian didn't ask for my permission. He just took my wrist.

His hand was warm. Steady.

He led me through the crowd to a private elevator in the corner.

The gold doors slid open without a sound.

"What is this...?"

"The express elevator to the penthouse suites," he answered, pulling me inside. "The Thorne Foundation booked them all for the night."

The doors closed.

Suddenly, we were alone in the tiny space.

My heart started to pound.

It wasn't fear. It was an excitement I didn't want to admit to.

Julian was a full head taller than I was. I had to look up to meet his eyes.

They were so deep.

"You know," he said, his voice low, "that idiot was right about one thing."

"What?"

"You are lonely."

My breath hitched. "How did you know?"

"Because I am too."

The elevator was rising slowly, but time stood still.

Julian's eyes were locked on mine. The intensity made me dizzy.

"Isabella," he whispered my name.

I should have pushed him away.

I should have kept my distance.

I should have told him this was wrong.

But I did nothing.

Julian's hand came up to my cheek. His thumb brushed my lips. "Do you know what you want?"

"I..."

"Not what he wants you to be. What you want to be."

His words hit a nerve deep inside me.

I stood on my toes.

Julian met me halfway. His lips crashed down on mine.

This kiss was nothing like I expected.

It wasn't hungry. It wasn't demanding.

It was a question. An invitation. A promise.

My hands tangled in his collar. His arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer.

The elevator stopped with a jolt.

Ding. The doors started to slide open.

"Well, well, well..."

A cold, familiar voice froze me solid.

I shoved Julian away and turned to the door.

Damien Costello stood there. His second-in-command, Marco, was behind him, along with some hot redhead.

His black eyes were burning holes into us.

My dress was a mess. My lipstick was smeared. My hair was a wreck.

Damien's gaze flicked between Julian and me. His face grew darker by the second.

Marco let out a low whistle, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Boss, looks like your little angel finally learned how to fall."