Aliyah's p.o.v

The bass thumped through the walls before we even stepped inside, the sound vibrating in my chest like a second heartbeat.

The moment the club doors opened, a haze of cigarette smoke and perfume wrapped around me. Colored lights swept across the room in lazy arcs, flashing over faces hungry, curious, dangerous.

I knew I was the center of attention the second we walked in.

The slit in my gown was obscene enough to turn heads, the deep plunge at the neckline doing the rest. My heels clicked in sync with the beat as if I'd been born to walk into rooms like this, commanding every glance without saying a word.

But I wasn't here to feed egos. I was here for Brown Marino.

Eva, dressed in a form-fitting dress she clearly hated, leaned closer to me as we slid through the crowd. Her eyes flicked left and right, cataloging exits and threats. "He always sits here when he comes," she murmured once we reached a corner draped in black velvet and dim lighting.

We slid into the VIP booth, the leather cool against my skin. I crossed one leg over the other slowly, deliberately, aware of the gazes still fixed on me. My mind was already running through every possibility what I'd say, how I'd smile, how I'd bait him just enough.

Eva tugged at her hem, her discomfort obvious. "I feel like I'm wearing a damn napkin," she muttered.

"You look fine," I said, scanning the room. "Uncomfortable, but fine."

A waiter appeared instantly, probably drawn by the scent of expensive perfume and trouble. I ordered a drink without really thinking about something sharp enough to burn away my nerves.

"He's not here yet," Eva noted, glancing toward the entrance. "When he does come, he'll make it known. Trust me."

I sipped my drink, the alcohol clawing down my throat, and kept my eyes on the crowd.

Eva was right when Brown Marino arrived, there was no mistaking it.

He strolled in like he owned the oxygen, two guards flanking him in dark suits. No flashy grand entrance, no need for it. The crowd seemed to shift naturally, parting to let him through as if drawn by an invisible force.

He slid into the booth opposite ours, not too far away, speaking briefly to one of his men before leaning back, relaxed but watchful.

I didn't give myself time to overthink. I rose from my seat, the slit of my gown parting with every step until I reached the edge of the dance floor. The bass hit harder here, pulsing through my veins. I let my hips sway, slow and deliberate, a teasing rhythm that matched the beat.

A few seconds in, I could feel that heavy, unblinking weight of a stare.

I risked a glance. Brown was watching.

His expression barely shifted as he leaned toward one of his guards, murmuring something. The bodyguard nodded once, his eyes never leaving me. Only then did I look at him properly.

Brown eyes. Familiar brown eyes.

My pulse tripped,delight at how devastating they looked up close, dread because I knew where I'd seen them before.

It was him. The man from the restaurant.

I stopped moving and returned to my seat, forcing my legs not to rush.

"That's the guy from the other night," I whispered to Eva.

She didn't so much as flinch. "Then act like you don't know him," she said smoothly. "If he remembers, we're in trouble. If he doesn't, we're golden."

But before I could respond, his lips curled in a way that told me exactly what I didn't want to hear. Recognition.

He stood, cutting through the space between us.

"He's coming," I breathed to Eva, my fingers gripping her knee. "He's coming."

When he reached our VIP corner, his scent hit first clean, sharp, and maddeningly male. The smirk was still there, carved into his mouth like it had been born with him.

"Brown Marino requests your presence," he said simply, no mention of that night, no acknowledgment of what we did to him.Just the message.

And somehow, that was worse.

Eva's elbow dug into my side. "Go," she whispered, her voice low but firm. "And for the love of God, Liya, don't fuck this up."

I gave her a dry look, but her expression didn't waver. She tilted her chin toward Brown, who was lounging in his seat, the picture of idle interest... except for the way his gaze clung to me.

Fine.

I stood, smoothing my gown like it was part of some slow ritual, and walked toward his booth. My heels clicked against the floor, my hips swayed just enough not cheap, not desperate. Controlled. Lethal.

I stopped at the edge of his table, tilting my head as if deciding whether or not to stay. "You sent for me?" I asked, one brow lifting.

His smirk deepened. "Would you rather I chased you?"

"Depends," I replied, sliding into the seat across from him. "Are you good at catching?"

He leaned forward, elbows on the table, his eyes glinting in the dim light. "I don't chase unless I already know I'll win."

I let out a soft laugh, leaning back with mock laziness. "And here I thought you liked a challenge. Seems I might've overestimated you."

The corner of his mouth twitched, the faintest flash of teeth showing through. "Careful, princess. Challenges are dangerous games to play... especially with men like me."

I met his stare, unflinching. "Then maybe you should pick safer women."

He let the silence stretch for a beat, studying me like I was both a puzzle and a dare. Then, finally, his voice dropped a notch.

"Name."

"Aliyah Santiago," I said smoothly, keeping my gaze locked on his.

From behind me came a low, almost mocking cough. My chest tightened. I didn't need to look to know it was the brown-eyed demon from the restaurant.

Brown's gaze flickered over my shoulder before returning to me, sharper now. "Aliyah Santiago," he repeated, letting the syllables roll lazily off his tongue. "Tell me... are you the famous outcast Spanish Mafia princess I've been hearing about?"

I straightened my shoulder, letting the lie roll off my tongue effortlessly."The one and the only,"

Brown's smirk returned, but it was sharper now, cutting.

"The rumors didn't do you justice," he said, voice dripping with lazy amusement. "I thought you were an ugly little thing who fled home because no one could stand you." He let his eyes sweep over me, lingering deliberately. "But instead... I find myself wondering how Spain let something like you slip away."

The jab slid past me like water off glass. I tilted my head, a slow smile curving my lips.

"Beauty and bad decisions are often a package deal," I said. "Maybe they just couldn't afford me anymore."

His gaze narrowed slightly like he wasn't sure if I was being arrogant or honest but the intrigue was there. Without looking away from me, he lifted two fingers in a subtle signal toward the man behind me.

When the brown-eyed demon reappeared with a waitress in tow, he reached for Brown's tumbler of something dark, rich, and dangerous. He placed it in front of him, then reached for my glass.

Only he didn't just hand it over.

His fingers brushed mine as he held it halfway, his gaze locking on mine like we were the only two people in the room. My pulse betrayed me, kicking hard in my chest, but I didn't look away.

Then, just as I reached for it, the glass tilted. Cold liquid spilled over the bodice of my gown, sliding down my skin in a slow, sticky path.

I sucked in a breath, my hand curling into a fist.

"What the fuck, Ottavio," Brown's voice snapped, low but filled with disapproval. "Lead our guest to the restroom. Now."

"I can find my own way," I said tightly, dabbing at my dress, already preparing to stand.

"I insist," Brown cut in, his tone making it clear there was no room for argument.

That was the moment I realized two things:

One:he was sending me off intentionally.

Two:Ottavio was his chosen escort.

The brown-eyed devil stepped forward, the faintest ghost of a smirk playing at the edge of his mouth as he extended a hand toward me.

"Ottavio," I repeated under my breath, finally giving a name to the man whose gaze had been haunting me since the restaurant.

And now, I was about to be alone with him.

Ottavio's p.o.v

Adrenaline coursed through my veins, anger and an unfamiliar sense of protection warring inside me. When I first saw this woman at the restaurant, openly spying on my employers and preparing to intercept them, I could have easily exposed her. Instead, I held back and even tried to warn her.

Now here she was again, seducing Brown Marino, and recognition prickled at the back of my mind. This woman had an ulterior motive. Maybe she was just another gold digger, using her beauty like a blade, aiming for a piece of the Marino fortune.

A gut-deep certainty told me she'd become a problem for me. She needed to be stopped now or I'd have no choice but to alert Brown.

I escorted her toward the ladies' restroom. On the way, we passed a couple going at it aggressively against the wall. I caught the faintest shudder from her, and my gaze drifted forward,only to lock on the curve of her hips swaying ahead of me. I clenched my jaw, battling the urge to look away and failing.

"Wait here," she said, her eyes skimming past mine as she slipped inside the restroom. My hand drifted into my pocket, a silent reminder to keep it there instead of around her throat.

After a few minutes, I decided it was time to do what I had been sent in with her to do. I stepped into the restroom, scanning the stalls but unable to tell which one she had entered. I waited a second only a second before I heard the faint, rapid clatter of teeth in the middle stall.

Following the sound, I gripped the door and yanked it open, not giving her a heartbeat's chance to recover.

My hand shot out, pressing against her throat as I slammed the restroom door shut behind us. The bang echoed off the tiled walls.

"What the hell are you doing, belladonna?" I snarled.

She clawed at my fingers, her nails digging into my skin. My grip wasn't tight enough to choke her, but it was firm enough to leave a mark she'd remember.

"What the fuck do you mean?" she snapped, voice sharp despite the pressure on her neck.

"I mean," I leaned in, my breath brushing her ear, "I know exactly what you are. Just another pretty little gold digger, aiming for the Marino fortune."

Her lips curved, even under the weight of my hand. "If that's what I am, you should be thanking me for aiming higher than you."

My jaw ticked. I let my hand fall from her throat, but when she brushed past me, I caught her wrist and yanked her back.

"I'm not done with you."

Her brows drew together. "Not done? What's that supposed to mean?"

I grinned, slow and deliberate. "It means I was instructed to deal with you. Brown is a very dangerous man, belladonna. Pouring that drink on you earlier? That was just a ploy to get you away from him, to search you. He has trust issues... and for good reason."

"I have nothing on me," she shot back, yanking her purse off her shoulder. She hurled it to the floor, its contents scattering across the tiles. Lipstick, perfume, cash, phone. Nothing else.

I glanced over it all, then met her gaze with a curt nod.

"See?" she said, arching a brow like she'd just won.

But my smirk deepened. I stepped closer. "Bag's clear. Now for the rest of you."

Her eyes narrowed. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Finishing my job." My voice dropped lower. "When I say Brown's dangerous, I don't just mean he wanted your bag searched. He wanted you searched. Every inch of you."

Before she could step back, my hand slid over her hip, down the outside of her thigh. She tensed, fighting to push me away, but I caught her wrist again, holding her there.

"This includes," I murmured, my palm gliding higher, "right down to your pussy."

She straightened her shoulders, the flicker of fear I'd seen in her eyes vanishing behind a wall of composure.

"You know," I said evenly, "you can back away from going to him now, and all this will stop. Right?"

She was silent for a moment before replying, her voice cool but laced with bite. "For someone who seems to be such a dutiful worker, you sure have... colorful things to say about your boss."

I chuckled, not bothering to answer. Instead, my hand left her thigh and drifted up the bare expanse of her back, exposed by the daring cut of her dress. She drew in a sharp breath, and for a fleeting second, I thought my touch might actually be getting to her.

"How many girls has he instructed you to do this to?" she asked.

I shouldn't have answered. But I did. "Too many. And you know what's shocking?"

Her silence told me she was listening, whether she wanted to or not.

"They all came out incriminating. We've seen your type before."

Her jaw clenched, but she didn't speak. My hand slid back to the front, fingers brushing between her thighs. She sucked in a breath; her teeth chattered, goosebumps breaking across her skin. I couldn't tell if it was from the cold air in the restroom or from me.

Either way, I stepped back against my better judgment, against the urge to finish what I'd started.

"You can go," I said.

Shock flitted across her face before she bent to gather her scattered things. While she did, my gaze caught a card half-hidden beneath her purse. I planted my foot over it, keeping it concealed. She didn't notice.

As she straightened, I slipped out of my suit jacket. She was almost at the door when I stopped her, stepping forward to drape it over her bare shoulders.

"I'll give Brown a... suitable review about you," I murmured.

She turned to glare at me, eyes cold and sharp, before walking out without another word.

Aliyah's P.O.V

I pattered toward the dining table, the mug in my hand warm against my fingers. I sipped the coffee slowly, hoping the bitter heat might burn away the sluggishness gnawing at me, but the zeal in me had already been reduced to its lowest flicker. My other hand slid absently over my phone, letting the endless scroll of the internet pull me into its distraction.

Footsteps approached from the hallway, deliberate and unhurried, but I didn't bother to glance up. I share this place with only one other person. Who else could it be?

"You seem a little too unbothered for someone who just failed a second time," Eva's voice sliced through the calm like a sharp nail on glass.

"I didn't fail," I shot back, setting the mug down with a soft thud. "I just left. Because I can't stand either that shitface Brown or his demon bodyguard."

Finally lifting my gaze, I met her eyes. Her blonde hair, glossy in the morning light, always reminded me of Michaelo not that mentioning it would help. Those two hated each other, and bringing his name into the room would guarantee me a frosty silent treatment for the rest of the day.

"And why is that?" she pressed, arms crossing tightly, her glare hitting like a blade aimed between my ribs.

"Because I was violated, Eva. If it hadn't been for his arrogant bodyguard who, for whatever twisted reason, stopped suddenly that dickhead would have slid his hand into my pants." I snorted, anger coiling again in my chest as the image of the man burned into my mind. The brunette. Gorgeous. Dangerous. The kind of man whose face you hated remembering but couldn't forget.

Eva tilted her head, leaning her chin on one hand. "Ottavio, was it?"

I gave a curt nod, pulse quickening at the sound of his name.

"And why did he stop?"

I shrugged, the truth more frustrating than anything I could invent. I'd asked myself the same question too many times. "Doesn't make him any less of a monster. Men like them have done worse to more women than they can count."

The room went still, heavy with the kind of silence that squeezes around the lungs.

Eva's gaze sharpened. " Aliyah don't tell me you have given up right?"

I let out a dry laugh, leaning back in my chair. "Apparently, my perfect tits and ass didn't do the job, so no. If that didn't work, nothing else could. And honestly? I'm glad. Better that than living a lie just to get in his good graces."

Eva hummed low in her throat, not arguing. Her attention drifted toward the cupboard, where she plucked a tin from the shelf and pulled out a biscuit.

I narrowed my eyes. "Where did you even get that name Aliyah Santiago?"

She broke the biscuit in half, taking a bite before answering. "I did my research. Dug into some Mafia family records. Figured it would give you credibility and originality since your name is also Aliyah.The real princess is a runaway nobody knows her face. Which means... nobody except her family in Spain can prove you're not her."

She chewed slowly, eyes never leaving mine, as if weighing whether I had the spine to play the part.

"You said that Ottavio guy said he has trust issues huh?" She began, munching on the biscuit so hard, i fear for her teeth.

I rolled my eyes, "drop it Eva," she snorted and continued. "Why don't you do something to gain his trust?"

I paused, staring at her like she had lost her mind, I just said I was irritated by the man for fuck sake. "Honestly I'm no longer cut out for that. Isn't there any fast way to do this?"

She scoffs. "Oh yes, I know of one fast way, I've suggested it to you but you refused." I rolled my eyes knowing where all this was going. "Let's get a gun and shoot at the family one by one till they're all dead,"

"We might end up in jail before we finish one of them or rather,the lovely Marinos will gut us down before we lift a finger.My answer still remains the same. No," I emphasized.

"Then we do it my way then," she cocked her eyebrows at me.

***

I hid behind the warehouse Eva had traced Brown's car to, waiting for Eva to plant the nicotine she had somehow acquired before we left the house.

Eva's words echoed in my skull, low and smug: Get Brown out of trouble in the most confident way, and I bet he's yours.

I gritted my teeth, not because I believed her, but because I hated being this close to proving her right.

She darted back to my side from the shadows, brushing dust from her jeans. "It's done. The cops are on their way. Brown will be out soon." Her lips curved into that sly little smirk that always meant she was five steps ahead of me in a game I didn't know we were playing.

True to her prophecy, Brown emerged minutes later, casual as ever, his hands in his pockets like he'd been strolling out of a spa instead of a nicotine-stinking warehouse. That same evil grin twisted his face, the one that said he thought the whole world was his stage.

But he wasn't the one twisting my insides into knots.

It was the man behind him.

Tall. Sharp. Dressed in a black suit that seemed tailored to match the permanent scowl etched into his features. Ottavio. The image of him draping his coat over me days ago hit like a sucker punch, my chest tightening despite every rational part of me screaming to stop.

The distant wail of sirens dragged me back to the present.

"Freeze!" a voice barked. Three policemen poured out of a patrol car, guns at the ready.

Brown paused mid-step, exchanging a quick glance with Ottavio before striding forward to greet the officers. I couldn't hear the words, but I could read the body language hands gesturing, a charming half-smile, leaning in just enough to suggest familiarity without surrender.

The lead officer's head shook, slow and firm. He wasn't buying it.

Eva's breath brushed my ear. "You can go out there now."

My pulse jumped. Stepping into this was the last thing I wanted but if I didn't, Brown was going down, and Eva's bet... might actually be won.

I squared my shoulders, feeling the air between us grow heavier as I prepared to walk straight into their mess.