Luciano’s cold blue eyes narrowed as they locked on the woman laughing softly across the table from another man.

His ex-wife.

His blood boiled.

She looked like sin wrapped in silk—a knee-length black skirt clinging to her hips, a white crop top hugging that fuckable little body, blonde hair tumbling over her shoulders like she walked out of a wet dream. And across from her sat some polished prick in a suit, bold enough to rest his damn hand over hers like she already belonged to him.

Luciano’s fists clenched.

So this is what she’d sunk to? Playing high-class slut in fancy hotels, spreading her legs for any man with a fat wallet?

A bitter taste filled his mouth as memories came flooding back. Five years ago, after that night—the one he couldn’t remember because Rosa had drugged him—he’d woken up naked beside her, blood staining the sheets. Panic had gripped him. And then Laura, Rosa’s cousin and his girlfriend at the time, had told him that Rosa had staged the whole thing, faking her being a virgin and even using blood as part of a trap to tie him down with guilt. Laura had also claimed that Rosa had always been a gold digger, that she’d slept around before, and only wanted to stake a claim to his name—to trap him in their unwanted marriage forever.

The fury that had followed was blinding. He’d felt violated, manipulated, humiliated. No one had ever dared to play him like that. No one made a fool out of him.

 And the Italian Don had decided to make his cunning little wife pay for her filth. He divorced her and sent her away, wanting nothing more than to erase that deceptively innocent face from his life. Back then, he was young and blinded by rage. Over time, a part of him had questioned if he’d been too harsh.

But that guilt vanished after seeing her last night—playing the same damn trick all over again. She hadn’t changed. They said looks could be deceiving, and with her, that saying couldn’t be more true. Now, seeing her whoring herself out for money in luxury hotels, he felt no regret. She deserved every bit of what he did to her.

The fury only intensified when he saw her shamelessly laughing with that man, seducing him with those innocent looks and dangerously alluring beauty.

Such a bitch.

Hadn't she been screaming his name all night? Moaning beneath him like she couldn’t get enough—clawing at his back, begging him not to stop as he buried himself deep in her tight, soaking heat and drove into her again and again?

And now… now she didn’t even wait a goddamn day before crawling back into another man’s lap?

Was she that desperate? For sex? For money? Or both?

Why would he care if she slept with the whole city? He didn’t care for a whore. Would he?

But what enraged him even more was the burning in his chest—the thought of her using the same seductive tricks, those sensual moves she’d used on him last night, now on another man.

Would she moan that bastard’s name the way she screamed his when he was buried deep inside her?

Would that man touch her the same way he did just hours ago, like he owned every inch of her?

The fury boiled over. Before he could think rationally, he was at their table, grabbing her hand and yanking her toward him.

Her soft brown eyes blinked up at him before panic spread across her face.

"Mr. Mancini… w-what are you doing here?"

"Come with me," he said coldly, already grabbing her wrist and dragging her with him.

"Hey, mister! Leave her alone!"

The interrupting voice made Luciano frown. He turned toward the man in the suit, who protested, stepping forward—but was quickly blocked by Luciano’s bodyguards.

"Shut up and stay the fuck away from her," Luciano snapped, not sparing the man another glance as he pulled Rosa along, ignoring her protests.

He didn’t stop until they reached the private room he had reserved for an urgent business meeting—

A meeting that clearly wasn’t happening now.

His mood had been completely ruined because of this woman.

“Mr. Mancini, let me go! Are you out of your mind?” she yelled at him in frustration.

He grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her face close until their breaths collided, hot and uneven.

“You done playing your little games, Rosie?” he hissed, his voice low and laced with venom. “Or do you need a reminder of whose name you were screaming last night?”

She smiled seductively, masking the fear in her heart, which made her pulse race like a jet engine.

"Mr. Mancini, that was part of my service. After all, that's what I get paid for-to satisfy men, give them everything they want, make them feel excited in their bed," she replied, trying to control her shattering breath.

Luciano's expression darkened; his blue eyes turned black with a murderous instinct. For some reason, his heart clenched with anger and jealousy at the thought of his ex-wife screaming another man's name in their bed.

He tightened his grip and mercilessly yanked her hair back, forcing her head to lift and her eyes to meet his. She winced but managed a smile-one that only made him angrier.

"Such a shameless woman you are. I thought I knew you, but no-I never understood you, never saw this side of you," he gritted through clenched teeth.

"I'm sorry if I led you into some misunderstanding," she murmured, keeping her tone sensual-or perhaps it was Luciano who heard each word leaving her mouth as if it were designed to seduce him.

"I have a girlfriend, and I'm going to marry her in a few days. And you... you dared to crawl into my bed and make me fuck you. Don't you fear the consequences?" he breathed out in such a dangerous way that anyone else in her place would have started crying and begging for their life.

She was also very terrified. From the very beginning of her plan, she had known she was going to ask for her death while lying with her mafia ex-husband-but she had to do it. With no other choice, she was helpless as she entered the lion's den and challenged him.

"Don Mancini, you're talking like that as if it means something to you. When we were married, you never thought about morals, never cared-always maintaining your relationship with your girlfriend. So why is it a big deal now? Sleeping around is your hobby, isn't it?" she mocked, though the pain in her heart flared at the memory of how he used to make her the object of ridicule in public while flaunting his love for his girlfriend.

It wasn't her mistake to marry him, to come between him and his girlfriend. He had agreed to the marriage himself; she hadn't put a gun to his head to force him.

"You had become very bold, huh?!" he taunted with a death glare as he tightened his grip on her hair and pulled her face closer. Their breaths mixed, their lips almost touching. She sucked in a breath, trying not to close her eyes. Fuck-he still had that effect on her.

"No, Mr. Mancini, how can I have the courage to be anything before you? I told you, if I had known it was you, I would have never come to that room. I still apologize. Please forget about that night and think of it as a mistake. Please let me go, sir," she said in a pleading tone.

She didn't want to die by the hand of her cruel ex-husband-not when she still had a purpose in her life and her son needed her the most. She couldn't afford to die.

Mistake?! 

Luciano's jaw clenched, and he hadn't let go of her hair. She was still in his grasp, like a deer caught in a wolf's jaws and yet she had the courage to talk back while looking into his eyes. She looked nothing like the Rosa he had known five years ago.

But the truth was, after trying hard, Luciano couldn't forget about last night, and for some strange reason, he wanted her even more. And when she called it a mistake and apologized, his blood boiled. Was she challenging his bedroom skills? No woman had ever complained. And his ex-wife had the audacity to forget, after he had put so much effort into her in bed-something he had never done in sex before. Now she was truly going to regret it. He would make sure of that.

"So you sleep with anyone for money, right?" he narrowed his eyes, breathing over her lips.

She swallowed before letting out a soft, "Hmm."

"Then I'm paying you in advance for two weeks," he offered. "For two weeks, you're mine and can't see other men."

Her eyes widened in shock. No, that couldn't be happening. She started panicking because she couldn't afford to be in bed with her cruel mafia husband another night; two weeks were out of the question. And if she stayed longer with him, she feared he would sense her true intention and the secret she was hiding from him.

So whatever excuse came to her mind next, she blurted it out in desperation to escape this cruel Italian don. "That can't be happening, Mr. Mancini, because I don't stay with the same man every night."

Luciano's jaw clenched, his eyes burning with anger when he heard her absurd reason.

"You're very adventurous, Rosie," he gritted out with disgust, and Rosa smirked, sensing the hatred in his tone.

Well, yes. Hate me and get lost from my life again, she spoke in her mind.

But outwardly, she just shrugged, making an innocent face.

He snorted, making a sarcastic expression, and spat out, "You want a different man every night to sleep with? Not even for double the payment?"

"No, Mr. Mancini, not even triple payment will work. I work on my conditions," she said with an impassive face.

He glared at her for a while. She knew who he was and what he was capable of, yet she still dared to piss him off. This little Rosie had surely become very bold. But Luciano Mancini wasn't used to taking a no.

"Well, it wasn't a proposal but a demand. I want you in my bed for two weeks, and that's not negotiable."

Rosa's mouth dried, and her heart sank with her sense of doom. Fuck-she had never thought he would be so intrigued by her after one night, when he had never paid attention to her even while living in the same house for six months. 

What an idiot-an absolute masterpiece of idiocy and assholeness.

She masked her terror with feigned confidence and spoke in a calm tone. "No, Mr. Mancini. I am sorry. But I don't do one-week bookings. I only work per night. If you want a booking for two weeks, find someone else," she stammered, trying to come up with a quick excuse.

God help her escape this ruthless mafia boss.

Luciano's eyes narrowed, but he didn't pull away and remained hovering over her face. His expression remained unreadable. "You work only at night, huh?!"

"Y-yes," she mumbled with nervousness.

"Alright then, I will book you for every night for two weeks," he said with an intense, dark expression. 

Rosa's face turned pale with nervousness despite her efforts to remain composed. And now the Italian don became very angry. 

Was he really that bad in bed that she was making excuses not to be with him again, and was that one night really a mistake? Now he wanted answers, and the only way was to take her to his bed again and see whether she screamed in fake pleasure or reached a real orgasm when he buried himself deep in her dripping pussy.

"But Mr. Mancini..." she started to make another excuse to refuse him, and this frustrated him further. Without warning, he slammed his lips onto hers and kissed her hard-rough, almost punishing.

Rosa's eyes slid closed, and an involuntary moan left her mouth when he thrust his tongue between her lips and tangled it with her tongue.

Her body surrendered in his arms, and her hands unknowingly clutched the suit jacket of her ex-husband as his passionate kiss made her knees weak and her legs turn to jelly. But the next moment, he broke their kiss, panting and breathing heavily, his lips still hovering above hers. But Rosa didn't open her eyes. She didn't dare to.

"What's your rate?" he asked, remembering what she had told him. "Ten grand? I'll pay you double," he murmured, his voice low, hoarse, and dangerous.

Though the offer was tempting, the risk was even greater, and Rosa was unwilling to give in.

"No, I..." she began to reason. But again, he caught her lower lip between his teeth, biting hard and pulling roughly, making her gasp and close her eyes again before he released it with a pop and whispered, "Fifty grand per fuck. And there's no limit to how much you can make in a night."

Her eyes fluttered open in shock. Why was this cruel mafia ex-husband of hers so desperate to torture her in his bed? Yes, torture-that was all he wanted to do to her for having sex with him last night by fooling him. And she knew that if she refused his offer, he would surely suspect her motives. No, she couldn't take that risk. She couldn't let him find out.

So she curled her arms around his neck and arched her back sensually before smiling sweetly.

"Wow, I didn't know you were so happy with my service, Mr. Mancini," she said. "Is it because no woman has ever pleased you in bed the way I did last night? I mean, seriously... you must have had countless women in your bed, but none of them compare to me, right?"

She batted her lashes at him, feigning innocence, though her taunting tone betrayed her amusement.

"Don't be so happy about it. I only like to own things, and now I want to own you for two weeks," he said in his deadly cold voice, and Rosa shivered at the effect of his icy tone. Of course, she was right-he wanted to torture her, and now nothing would work on this devil who seemed determined to ruin her soul, as if he hadn't already ruined her life.