Rosa's POV

My mouth was still hanging open like an idiot when I finally found my voice. "What the hell are you doing here, Raffaele?"

He tilted his head, that infuriating half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth like he'd been waiting for the question all morning. "I'm here to see you, of course."

Mateo cleared his throat behind us, shifting his weight. "Rosa, maybe we should-"

"Later," I cut him off without looking back, fingers already curling around Raffaele's wrist. I yanked hard, dragging the six-foot-three wall of trouble toward the locker room corridor. He let me pull him, amused, like a panther deciding to humor a kitten.

I shoved open the nearest door, hauled him inside, and slammed it shut. The echo bounced off the tiled walls. We were alone in the dim fluorescent light, surrounded by the faint smell of sweat and liniment.

He glanced around, then back at me, smirk widening. "Wow. I didn't know you liked enclosed spaces."

I rolled my eyes so hard I almost saw yesterday. "You have five minutes. Say whatever it is you came to say and get out."

He leaned one shoulder against the lockers, crossing his arms, looking far too comfortable in my space. "Five minutes? Generous. I thought you'd give me thirty seconds before you tried to knee me again."

"Clock's ticking."

Instead of getting to whatever point he had, he studied me like I was a case file he wanted to memorize. "Tell me about your family, Rosa."

I stiffened. "What?"

"Your family. Parents. Siblings. The people who made you this... interesting combination of fire and steel. I want to know."

My stomach twisted. "That's none of your business."

"Everything about you is my business now."

I laughed, sharp and bitter. "You really think that's how this works? You show up, throw around possessive bullshit, and suddenly you get access to my past? No. Your time's up."

I turned for the door.

His voice dropped, I could hear how dangerous it was all the way from here. "I'm not done talking. It's bad manners to walk away when someone isn't finished."

I paused, hand on the knob. Bad manners? This mafia man actually thought he was some posh English prince holding court? The arrogance of it burned hotter than the gym lights.

I hated the sound of his voice right then, smooth, commanding, certain I would obey.

I didn't say a word. Just opened the door and walked out.

He didn't follow me. Thank God.

I changed into my gear in record time, wrapped fresh tape over my knuckles, and headed to the mat. Mateo was already there, bouncing lightly on his toes, golden hair damp from warm-up. First champion. Undefeated against me. Every single time we sparred, he'd found the opening, taken the point, left me sprawled and cursing.

Today felt different.

We circled. He grinned that easy, sunlit grin. "Ready to lose again, Stewart?"

"Keep dreaming, golden boy."

The whistle blew.

He came in fast, testing, jab-jab-hook. I slipped the hook, countered with a low kick that grazed his thigh. He laughed, surprised, then pressed harder. Our bodies brushed... chest to chest for half a heartbeat when I blocked his cross. His breath was warm on my cheek. My pulse kicked up, not just from the fight.

Was he doing this on purpose? Lingering a second too long when we clinched, letting his fingers trail over my forearm when he pushed me back, eyes locked on mine a little too intensely?

I hooked his arm, spun, tried to throw him. He countered, used my momentum, and suddenly we were both going down. He landed on top, weight pinning me to the mat, forearms braced beside my head. Our faces were inches apart. His eyes flickered to my mouth.

For one stupid second I forgot how to breathe.

I was still trying to process it when I heard a thrilling sound.

A gunshot ripped through the gym.

Screams erupted with chairs scraping. Feet pounding. Another shot, then another. Chaos exploded like someone had kicked over a hornet's nest.

Mateo rolled off me instantly, grabbing my arm. "Come on... back exit...

I slipped his grip like water, already scanning the room through the sudden haze of panic. People were diving behind equipment, scrambling for doors. The shots kept coming, deliberate, controlled.

And then... they stopped.

Dead silence except for my ringing ears and distant sobs.

I straightened slowly, chest heaving.

Through the drifting smoke and dust walked...Raffaele.

Calm. Untouched. Hands in his pockets. Like he'd just strolled in from a coffee run.

I shook my head. No. He couldn't be...

"You..." The word scraped out of my throat.

He stopped a few feet away, head tilted. "Did I have to go through such lengths to get your attention?"

Rage boiled up so fast it tasted like copper. "Are you sick? People could have gotten hurt! What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Rosa..." His voice was quiet, almost gentle. "You shouldn't have walked away when I was talking."

His face was unsmiling, hard and cold.

I should have been scared. Any sane person would be terrified.

Fuck him. Fuck him over!!!

I don't bow to any man.

I stepped closer. Close enough to smell the faint gunpowder on his shirt, close enough to see the faint bruise already blooming on his knuckles.

Then I swung.

My palm cracked across his cheek...hard, clean, ringing.

The sound echoed louder than any gunshot.

His head barely moved. But his eyes flared.

"How's this for attention?" I hissed.

I turned on my heel and walked away, through the stunned silence, past overturned benches and wide-eyed teammates, out the side door into the blinding daylight.

My hand stung.

My heart was a war drum.

I'd probably dug my grave but, that thought was something I would panic over later.

Rosa's POV

"You slapped Raffaele?" Kylie's voice cracked, eyes so wide I could see the whites all around. She was perched on the edge of my couch like she might bolt any second, hands twisting in her lap. "Rosa... you actually slapped him?"

I dropped onto the armchair across from her, elbows on my knees, face buried in my palms for a second before I looked up. "Kylie, I might die tonight, but I swear I won't go down without a fight."

She stared at me like I'd grown a second head. News of the gunfire at the gym had spread like wildfire. It read that there were shots fired, no suspect caught, everyone evacuated...the usual chaos.

Of course the cops were calling it a random drive-by. Of course Raffaele walked away clean.

And of course I'd told Kylie the truth the second she burst through my door twenty minutes ago, wild-eyed and clutching her phone like a lifeline.

Now the weight of it was crashing down on me all at once.

I was fucked.

Completely, irreversibly fucked.

"Is he that scary?" I asked, voice quieter than I meant it to be. "Like... does he even have a soul?"

Kylie shrugged, but the movement was too quick, too nervous. I raised a brow.

"You know something, don't you?"

She shook her head fast. Too fast.

Shee probably asked Luca about him and there was no way in hell that Luca who worshipped her very presence wouldn't have told her.

"Kylie, a three-year-old can lie better than you can."

Her shoulders slumped. She looked at her hands, then at me, then back at her hands. "I promised Luca I wouldn't say anything."

"I need to know, Kylie. What if he's really some kind of psychopath?"

She swallowed hard, eyes glistening. "He is, Rosa."

My stomach dropped.

"He lost someone," she whispered. "Someone he loved more than anything. And after that... he turned into this... deranged monster. Luca says he's not the same person he used to be. Not even close."

I opened my mouth to ask who, what happened, when, anything but my phone rang.

The screen lit up with an unknown number.

I stared at it like it might bite me.

Kylie leaned forward.

I answered.

"Hi, Rosa."

That voice. Low and smooth with a deadly calmness.

My whole body went cold. "How the hell did you get my number?"

"Doesn't matter. You might want to stay on the line for a second."

Before I could snap back, a small, bright voice piped up in the background.

"Rosa? Is this scary-looking uncle really your boyfriend?"

My heart fell through the floor.

Stevie.

My little brother.

Rage exploded in my chest so fast it burned. "Raffaele, you dare not fucking touch my family."

"You didn't answer my question when I asked about them," he said, tone almost conversational, "so I came to see for myself."

My hand was shaking so hard the phone rattled against my ear.

"You called me sick? You better hurry, sweetheart. There's no telling what a sick person can do."

I was already moving, snatching my keys, shoving my feet into sneakers. Kylie jumped up behind me. "Rosa, wait! I'll call Luca, he'll talk to him-"

"No time." I yanked the door open. "I'm not waiting for one Navarro brother when they are both almost equally deranged."

I took the stairs two at a time, hailed the first taxi I saw, and slid into the back seat, slamming the door so hard the driver flinched.

"Elmwood Drive. Fast. Please."

The whole ride I prayed to God, to whoever was listening, to the universe, to anyone who might give a damn that he wouldn't hurt them. That this was just another twisted game.

That I hadn't just handed him the keys to my entire world by walking away in that gym.

When the taxi screeched to a stop outside our small, weathered house, I threw money at the driver and ran up the cracked walkway.

Through the front window I saw them.

Raffaele Navarro.

Sitting at my mom's tiny kitchen table.

Eating dinner.

With my mother and my eight-year-old brother.

Stevie was laughing at something he'd said, fork halfway to his mouth. Mom was smiling, the soft one she saved for people she trusted.

I burst through the door so hard it banged against the wall.

"Stay away from my family."

Three heads turned.

Raffaele's smile was slow, lazy, like he'd been expecting me.

Mom blinked. "Rosa? Honey, what's wrong? Why are you acting like this toward your boyfriend?"

"He's not my boyfriend!" I yelled, voice cracking. I stepped in front of them both, arms out like I could shield them with my body. "Mom, I told you not to let strangers in the house!"

Raffaele stood up, slow and deliberate, all six-foot-three of him unfolding like a shadow coming to life. He looked at my mom, polite, almost gentle. "You should listen to your daughter, ma'am. There are a lot of scary people in the world."

Mom smiled, confused but warm. "But you wouldn't hurt us, right? You're Rosa's boyfriend."

Raffaele returned the smile small, dangerous, beautiful. "That depends on what your daughter does from now on."

He turned those dark eyes on me.

"Thanks for the slap, Rosa. It really made me step up my game."

My pulse roared in my ears.

"Now," he continued, stepping closer, voice dropping so only I could hear, "can we start over? Or should I visit the story of how your father passed?"

My heart stopped.

He knew.

He fucking knew.

The room tilted. Mom was saying something, Stevie tugging at my sleeve asking why I looked so mad, but all I could hear was the blood rushing through my head.

He knew about Dad.

It meant he knew everything about my family and the secret I was fighting so hard time bury for good.

And he was sitting here, eating Mom's spaghetti, charming my little brother, holding the one secret that could shatter what was left of my family.

I stepped right into his space, close enough that I could smell the faint trace of gunpowder still clinging to him, close enough that I could see the faint red mark my hand had left on his cheek earlier.

"You touch them," I whispered, voice shaking with fury and fear and something darker, "and I will end you. I don't care who you are. I don't care what you are, I will bury you."

His eyes flickered, something almost like respect, or hunger, or both.

Then he leaned down, mouth brushing my ear.

"Careful, sweetheart. Threats like that? They sound an awful lot like foreplay to me."

Rosa's POV

I couldn't stand him being in that house a second longer, breathing the same air as Mom and Stevie, acting like he belonged at our table with his polished shoes and his dangerous smile. My fingers dug into his arm as I dragged him out the front door, the wood creaking under the force of my shove. The night air hit us cool and sharp, but it did nothing to calm the fire raging in my chest.

"Go," I snarled, pointing down the walkway like he was a stray dog. "Get out of here and don't come back."

Raffaele didn't budge. He just stood there on the porch, hands casually in his pockets, that smile creeping across his face slow and sure, like he had all the time in the world.

It wasn't a nice smile... it was the kind that promised things I didn't want to think about, dark edges hidden under charm. "Come with me instead," he said, voice low and even. "I'll drop you off at school so you can pack your things, then you're coming home with me to my penthouse."

I barked out a laugh, but there was no humor in it. "You're dreaming huge if you think that's happening. Especially now that you think you know a piece of my life."

His eyes darkened just a fraction, but the smile stayed. He stepped closer, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him, smell the faint cologne mixed with something sharper, like gun oil from earlier. "Not just a piece, Rosa. A huge piece."

My breath caught.

"Do I have to turn into the devil for real?" he asked, still smiling, but his voice dropped to that velvet threat level that made my pulse spike. "Or should I make more threats to get you moving?"

I stared at him, heart hammering. This wasn't a bluff. This man had orchestrated gunfire in a gym just to prove a point, charmed my family like it was nothing, dug up skeletons I'd buried deep. He was far beyond anything I could handle... a storm wrapped in a suit, obsession flickering in those dark eyes like he'd already decided I was his to keep, to break if I pushed too hard.

I had no options left. No clever escape, no backup plan. Just him, standing there, waiting.

My eyes lit up with a desperate spark of hope. "I heard you're leaving tomorrow. Luca said you'd only be here for two days."

The smile didn't fade. Not even a twitch. "I am leaving."

Relief flooded me so fast I almost smiled back...a real one, small but victorious.

Then he kept talking.

"I'll be back after a week. I'm going to handle some business, pack what I need, and return for good."

The smile shattered right off my face. My stomach dropped like I'd been punched.

"I'm pretty sure my smart brother didn't tell you that part," he added, watching my reaction with that intense gaze, like he fed off my frustration.

No, he hadn't. Luca had sat there in his perfect penthouse, feeding me half-truths while Kylie watched, making it sound like Raffaele was a temporary nightmare.

I swore in my head the next time I laid eyes on Luca, I'd kill him. Slowly. With my bare hands.

"So, darling," Raffaele said, gesturing to the black sedan idling at the curb, engine purring like a predator, "would you come with me willingly, or do I need to risk more threats?"

I wanted to scream. To hit him again. To run inside and lock the door forever. But Mom and Stevie were in there, safe for now, and I couldn't let him drag them deeper into this mess. Grudgingly, hating every step, I marched to the passenger side and got in. The leather seat was cool against my skin, but it felt like a trap snapping shut.

He slid in beside me...no, behind the wheel and we pulled away smooth as silk. The house shrank in the rearview mirror, and with it, the last shred of my normal life.

"I can't move into your house," I said, staring out the window at the blurring streetlights. "I won't."

He took one long, lingering look at me, eyes tracing my profile, my crossed arms, the tension in my jaw. It wasn't just a glance; it was possessive, hungry, like he was memorizing every inch.

"Eyes on the road!" I yelled, heart skipping. "You'll get us killed!"

He chuckled, deep and rumbling, the sound filling the car like it belonged there. "It's because you're just too pretty. Makes it hard to focus on anything else."

I rolled my eyes, cheeks heating against my will. "Whatever."

But he laughed again, softer this time, almost fond. It was weird...this mix of dark obsession and something warmer, like underneath the threats and the control, there was a man who actually saw me, not just as a prize but as... something more.

It scared me how that thought didn't repulse me as much as it should.

"Since you're really that pretty," he said, merging onto the highway, "I'm willing to hear any argument you want to make about not staying in my house. Lay it out. Convince me."

I swallowed hard, throat dry. One week. He'd be gone for one week. Was that enough time to make sure we never crossed paths again? To dig up dirt on him, maybe turn the tables, or just vanish? Whatever. I needed that breathing room. I'd take it and run with it.

"The sparring championship is coming up soon," I started, voice steadier than I felt. "I have to be on school grounds for training. Every day. I can't just hole up in your penthouse like some kept woman."

He nodded, thoughtful, fingers drumming lightly on the wheel. "Fair point. I can teach you to fight, you know. Better than whatever they're drilling into you at that gym."

I rolled my eyes again, biting back the first retort that came to mind. "No thanks. You fight like a street rat."

"What?" His head snapped toward me, brows raised, but there was amusement in his eyes, not anger.

I shook my head quick, realizing I'd poked the bear. Best not to annoy him more than necessary. "I said... you wouldn't even be around to train me. You're leaving, remember?"

He nodded, gaze back on the road, but I caught the way his jaw tightened just a bit. "Fine. But that's only valid till I come back. After that... we'll see."

The words hung heavy, a promise wrapped in darkness. His obsession was there in every syllable, this wasn't casual for him. It was all-consuming, like I'd become the center of his world the moment I'd lied about being Kylie.

"Why do you want to keep me?" I asked suddenly, the question bursting out before I could stop it. "What is this really about?"

He looked at me then, really looked, his eyes flickering down to my lips for a split second that sent a shiver through me. "Why does a man want a woman?"

The simplicity of it shut me up. Heat bloomed in my chest, a confusing mix of fear and something electric, something that made my heart race in a way it shouldn't. I turned back to the window, silent for the rest of the ride, mind spinning.

When we pulled up, I blinked at the familiar glass tower. Luca and Kylie's penthouse.

"Why are we here?" I asked, suspicion creeping in.

He killed the engine, turning to me with that knowing smile. "My place is just above theirs. But I know you want to kill Luca right now. Figured I'd oblige you. Let you get it out of your system before you go."

He was right. That bastard had lied by omission, left me dangling in the dark. I'd end him tonight if I could.

But as the doors slid open to Luca's floor, I wondered if one week would be enough to escape a man who'd already claimed my every thought.

The confrontation with Luca was just a distraction, after that? God help me, because Raffaele Navarro wasn't letting go.