Mafia Blood

Adriana's POV

I could feel the weight of the velvet dress on my skin, the fabric soft yet oppressive as I moved through the crowd. The ballroom glittered, a show of wealth and power dressed up in gold and silk. 

The mafia families, all of them, milling about in their expensive suits and gowns, pretending that nothing was out of place. The faint smell of perfume mixed with cigars and whiskey filled the air, making it hard to breathe. Everyone was tense, but they hid it behind forced smiles, clinking glasses, and soft laughter.

It was supposed to be a charity event, or so the invitations said. But anyone with half a brain could tell it was nothing more than a cover-up for something far more sinister. 

The people here were not concerned with the starving children on the charity brochures. They were here to make deals, to plot, and to secure power.

I could sense the anxiety creeping up my spine, the nerves gnawing at my insides, but I kept my composure. I had to. My father's eyes were always on me, and his expectations weighed down on me like a thousand-pound boulder. 

As the daughter of one of the most feared men in the business, I didn't have the luxury of showing weakness. Not tonight. Not in front of all these vultures.

A flicker of movement in the corner of my vision caught my attention. My pulse spiked before I even fully registered who it was. Ivan. Of course, it had to be him.

I stiffened, and my fingers tightened around the glass of wine in my hand, the crystal cold and unforgiving. It's him, I thought bitterly. My lifelong rival, the bane of my existence. 

Our families had never gotten along, and neither had we. There was no love lost between the Morettis and the Valkofs. And it wasn't just some petty family feud-it ran deep. Generations deep.

I turned to face him, my heels clicking against the marble floor with a sharp echo, announcing my presence.

 He stood across the room, dressed in a dark suit that screamed arrogance, his posture straight as a board, and his eyes scanning the crowd. He hadn't seen me yet. Good. I wanted to approach him on my terms.

I walked toward him, my heart beating louder with each step. As I drew closer, the sound of laughter faded into the background.

 It was as though the air between us thickened, every breath feeling heavy. When he finally caught my gaze, his lips curled into a smirk, that damn smirk that always made my blood boil.

"Well, well, if it isn't Adriana Moretti," he drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. "I almost didn't recognize you under all that makeup."

"Don't flatter yourself, Ivan," I snapped, not bothering to hide the venom in my voice. "I could say the same about you. I didn't realize the Valkofs allowed their sons out of their little cage."

His eyes darkened, the playful spark in them vanishing. "You still haven't changed. Always the mouthy brat, huh?"

I stepped forward, not giving him an inch. The tension between us crackled in the air, thick and electric. I could feel the familiar anger rising, the urge to shove him into a wall and wipe that smug look off his face. But I held myself back. I wasn't about to let him get the better of me, not in front of everyone.

"You think you can intimidate me, Ivan?" I asked, my voice low, dangerous. "You're just a puppet, just like your father. Your family is a joke."

He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming, and I didn't back down. The heat between us intensified, but before it could escalate into a full-blown argument, a voice cut through the tension like a knife.

"Enough."

Massimo. Of course, it was him. Always playing the mediator, always acting like the calm in the storm. But this time, I could see something else in his eyes. Something that made my skin crawl.

He stepped between us, his broad shoulders blocking the line of fire between Ivan and me. His gaze was hard, and his voice was clipped, businesslike.

"We don't have time for this childish rivalry. You two have bigger problems."