She was taken as leverage. He never expected she'd become his weakness. When ballerina Sienna Rosetti is kidnapped by infamous Mafia boss Dante Moreau, she's thrust into a world of violence, secrets, and seductive danger. Held captive in his secluded Sicilian estate, Sienna fights to reclaim her freedom-but the more time she spends with her captor, the harder it is to ignore the heat between them. As hidden betrayals rise and Dante's empire teeters on the edge, they must decide: will love save them-or destroy them both?
Chapter 1 The Spill
Rain drizzled against the glass like a soft percussion, rhythmic and steady, mirroring the dull ache in Aria's temples. It had been another sleepless night-her mother's cough echoing down the narrow hall of their small apartment, the bills stacked like a silent threat on the kitchen counter, and the gnawing worry about the flower shop's rent, which was now a month overdue.
She shifted the weight of the coffee tray in her hands as she stepped into the rush of a bustling Manhattan café. The scent of roasted beans and wet pavement filled her lungs, grounding her for just a moment.
"Double espresso for... Ethan?" she called out, scanning the crowd.
No one responded.
She turned to take another step and collided-hard-into a wall of a man.
Coffee. Everywhere.
"Oh no-oh my god, I'm so sorry!" Aria gasped, her eyes wide with horror as the tray hit the floor, the ceramic cup shattering, the dark liquid blooming across an expensive charcoal-gray suit.
The man slowly looked down at his soaked jacket. Then his eyes lifted to hers.
Cold. Piercing. Unforgiving.
"Do you always walk through life blind and uncoordinated, or is today special?" he said evenly, each word sharp as glass.
Aria's face flamed. "I-I didn't see you. I was calling a name. I didn't mean-"
He cut her off with a raised hand, not in kindness, but dismissal. "Save it."
Aria blinked, stunned.
"Let me pay for the dry cleaning-"
"That won't fix the suit." His tone was clipped, final.
Then, just like that, he turned and walked out into the rain, unbothered. Unapologetic.
Aria stood frozen, staring after him, the tray still trembling in her hands.
"What a jackass," the barista muttered behind her.
"No kidding," Aria mumbled.
She didn't know it yet, but that man-Ethan Vale-was about to become the reason her entire world turned upside down.
Three days later, Aria was elbow-deep in roses when Mr. Liu, the building manager, dropped the bomb.
"They sold it," he said, not meeting her eyes. "The building. New owners taking over by end of the week."
Aria nearly dropped the garden shears.
"What? You said the lease was secure!"
"I said I thought it was," he muttered. "Turns out the previous owner took a private offer. Some development firm. Big money. Sorry, kid."
"No, no, no..." she whispered, heart racing.
The flower shop wasn't just a job-it was her lifeline. It paid for her mom's medications, kept food on their table, and gave her a purpose. It was the one place she felt like she belonged.
"Who bought it?" she asked.
He scratched his head. "Some company... Vale Enterprises, I think?"
Her blood ran cold.
It couldn't be.
The suit. The coffee. The ice stare.
No. No way.
She went home that night numb. The apartment smelled like lavender and cough drops. Her mother was already asleep, curled up beneath a pile of worn quilts, the television humming low in the background.
Aria didn't sleep. She researched. Read every article she could find on Vale Enterprises. And there he was-Ethan Vale. Billionaire CEO. Real estate tycoon. Manhattan's youngest self-made mogul.
Cold-hearted. Unreachable. Known for tearing down anything in his path if it didn't match his bottom line.
But she wasn't going to let him bulldoze her shop. Not without a fight.
The lobby of Vale Enterprises gleamed like glass and chrome heaven. Aria walked in the next morning with her heart thudding in her chest, armed only with a folder of documents and a stubborn hope that maybe-just maybe-he wasn't as heartless as he seemed.
The receptionist didn't look up from her screen. "Do you have an appointment?"
"No. But I need to speak to Mr. Vale. Please."
"Mr. Vale doesn't take walk-ins."
Aria swallowed hard. "This is urgent."
Before the receptionist could respond, a familiar figure stepped out of the glass elevator. Immaculately dressed, same unreadable expression, same presence that seemed to still the air around him.
Ethan Vale.
He stopped when he saw her. For a second, his brow twitched in recognition.
"You again," he said. "Didn't expect to see you in my building."
"I didn't come to spill coffee," she said, chin high. "I came to talk about the flower shop in Brooklyn. The one your company just bought."
He regarded her, then gestured toward the elevator. "Five minutes."
His office was everything she expected-sleek, modern, soulless. He leaned against the edge of his desk, arms folded.
"Speak."
"I've worked in that shop for four years," she began. "It supports me, my mom-she's sick. I'm studying design part-time. This isn't just a job to me. It's my entire life."
"And?"
"I'm asking for a two-month extension. Just time to figure something out. Please."
Ethan studied her with the same expression he'd use to examine a spreadsheet. "The shop will be demolished in thirty days. That's already generous."
Her jaw clenched. "Don't you care about the people behind your decisions?"
"No," he said simply.
She blinked.
"Business is not about feelings, Miss..."
"Bennett."
"Miss Bennett. I make decisions based on value. Sentiment doesn't factor in."
She rose to leave, furious and humiliated, but something stopped him.
A photograph had slid from the folder she'd brought. A shot of her floral work-a wedding arch she'd designed last summer, lush with peonies and eucalyptus, backlit by twilight.
He picked it up. Looked at it again.
"You did this?"
"Yes," she said warily.
He glanced at her. "My company is launching a hotel in SoHo. We need a floral designer for the interiors and launch events. Your style fits the brand."
Her eyes narrowed. "What are you saying?"
"I'll offer you a contract. You handle all floral installations for the hotel. In return, I delay the building's demolition."
Her chest tightened. "So I work for you, or I lose everything?"
"I prefer to think of it as a mutually beneficial agreement," he said.
She stared at him. "You're unbelievable."
"And you're running out of options."
She hated him for being right.
But more than that, she hated how, despite everything-his coldness, his arrogance-part of her was intrigued.
She'd never met someone like Ethan Vale. And she had a feeling he'd never met someone like her, either.
"Fine," she said finally. "But don't think for a second I'm impressed by you."
He almost smiled.
"Noted."
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