Chapter 2: One Kiss Shouldn't Ruin A Girl But Mine Did.

Katarina POV - Outside the Club

My panties were still damp.

I didn't know if it was fear or desire.

I slumped against the cold metal bench outside the club and tried to scrub the memory from my head. The kiss. His voice. His hands. The gun pressed into my back.

It felt like a nightmare…until I remembered the ache between my thighs.

No. It happened. All of it.

"Kat, the cab's almost here." Selena sat beside me, her phone glowing in the darkness. It was past midnight. The city streets were empty except for a few stumbling drunks and the occasional car passing by.

I shut my eyes, but all I could see was those green predator eyes watching me run.

Minutes later, the cab arrived and we slid into the back seat. The silence between Selena and me was suffocating.

She finally broke it.

"Kat." Her voice was soft but firm. "What happened in there?"

I opened my mouth…. Closed it. …Tried again.

"I walked into the devil’s room."

"Devil?..." She waited.

"There were men. Guns. And this... this man." My voice cracked. "They thought I was someone else. A stripper they'd hired."

Selena's eyes went wide. "What?!"

"One of them put a gun to my back, Sel." The words tumbled out now, fast and panicked. "He told me to kiss him…the boss…or we'd both die. So I did. I kissed him."

I covered my face with my hands.

"And the worst part? I didn't just do it because of the gun."

Then Selena's hand found mine, squeezing tight.

"Kat... what do you mean?"

"I mean..." I could barely say it. "Part of me liked it. His hands on me. His mouth. I got... wet, Selena. From fear or lust, I don't even know anymore. But my body wanted it."

I laughed a broken, bitter sound.

"My first kiss was with a mafia boss at gunpoint in front of strangers. And I got turned on."

Selena didn't pull away or look disgusted. She just held my hand tighter.

"Kat, listen to me." Her voice was steady, grounding. "You were terrified. You had a gun to your back. Fear does weird things to our bodies—adrenaline, survival mode. It's not your fault that your body reacted."

"But it felt good," I whispered, ashamed.

"That doesn't mean you wanted it to happen." She squeezed again. "But babe, you need to stay far away from whatever that was. Men like that... they're dangerous. You know that, right?"

I nodded slowly, looking out the window at the blurred streetlights.

"I know."

But even as I said it, I could still feel the ghost of his grip on my hip. The taste of him on my tongue.

The way he smiled as I ran.

Like he was letting me go. For now.

The cab pulled up to my apartment building a run-down complex on the south side of the city. peeling paint andbroken security lights. Home.

"You good to go in alone?" Selena asked with worry on her face.

"Yeah. I'll be fine." I forced a smile. "Thanks, Sel."

"Text me when you're inside, okay?"

"I will."

I slipped out of the cab and watched her drive away. Then I crept around the side of the building to my bedroom window.

I lived with my older brother, Mateo, and the last thing I needed was him asking questions about why I was sneaking in after midnight.

The window slid open quietly. I climbed through, my heels hitting the carpet with a soft thud.

I kicked off my shoes and peeled the dress from my body, letting it drop to the floor in a heap. My hands were shaking.

In the bathroom, I turned the shower on full blast and stepped under the scalding water.

But I couldn't wash him off.

I scrubbed my skin until it was raw, but I could still feel his thumb rolling over my nipple. Still feel the heat of his breath against my neck. Still feel the hard press of his erection against my thigh.

My hand slid down my stomach. Between my legs, I was still slick.

I stared at the wetness on my fingers, confused and ashamed.

"What the hell is wrong with me?"

This wasn't just fear. This was arousal. My body had responded to him…to the danger, to his dominance, to the way he'd claimed me in front of everyone like I was already his.

I hated that even now, standing alone in my shower, my core ached for more.

One kiss shouldn't ruin a girl.

But mine did.

Vittorio De Luca POV - Earlier That Night, Before She Walked In

I wasn't at the club for pleasure. Not tonight.

Massimo, the club's owner, had arranged a meeting in the back VIP room. A deal. Drugs and guns moving through the port—high risk, higher reward. The kind of deal that would cement my control over the eastern docks.

The deal was done. Money exchanged. Shipment confirmed.

Now I was stuck in this overpriced den of smoke and bass, watching Massimo parade women in front of me like livestock at auction.

"Don De Luca," Massimo purred, gesturing to the line of girls standing against the wall. "I've brought the finest for you tonight. Dancers, models—whatever you want."

I leaned back in my chair, cigar smoke curling toward the ceiling. My right-hand man, Marco, stood silent at my side. My two bodyguards flanked the door.

I barely glanced at the women.

Beautiful? Sure. Perfectly polished. Hair styled. Makeup flawless. Bodies displayed like merchandise.

Boring.

They all wanted the same thing money, status, a chance to get close to power. They'd smile, spread their legs, and pretend to enjoy it.

I'd had a hundred like them. None of them made me feel anything.

"Massimo." My voice cut through his desperate sales pitch. "If this is all you've got, I'll pass."

His face paled. "Wait, Don. There's one more. She's running late, but I promise she's different. Worth the wait."

I took another drag from my cigar, unimpressed. "You have five minutes."

He scurried out like a rat.

Marco glanced at me, one eyebrow raised. "You really gonna sit here and wait?"

"For five minutes? Why not." I exhaled smoke. "Maybe he'll surprise me."

He didn't.

But she did.

The door opened.

And in walked a mistake.

She wasn't polished. Wasn't strutting. She stumbled in like a deer into a wolf's den, wide-eyed and frozen.

Curves that didn't need a dress to be noticed. Hips that swayed even when she was terrified. Hair falling loose around her shoulders. And those eyes—big, brown, and full of panic.

“Massimo must’ve sent her by mistake, but I didn’t care. Something about her felt like a challenge.

And that made her perfect.

Massimo grabbed her by the arm, shoving her forward. "This is the one, Don. Shes.."..

I leaned forward, elbows on the table, studying her like a puzzle I wanted to solve.

"What's your name?"

She hesitated, lips trembling. "K-Katarina."

"Katarina." I let her name roll off my tongue slowly, tasting it. She flinched like I'd touched her. "Do you know who I am?"

She nodded, barely.

"Good." I leaned back, letting the silence stretch. "Then you know I don't like wasting time."

Massimo barked something at her…show me what she's got, perform, I didn't care..but I kept my eyes on her.

She looked at me. Then at Massimo. Then at the gun on Marco's hip.

Then she leaned in and kissed me.

Clumsy. Inexperienced. Shaking like a leaf.

And it made me hard.

I grabbed her—one hand fisting her dress, the other gripping her breast. She gasped, and her nipple slipped free. I rolled it between my fingers, slow and deliberate, watching her face flush with shame and heat.

Her mouth opened under mine. I took it. Claimed it. My tongue swept in, tasting her fear and something sweeter—arousal.

She was wet. I could smell it.

My cock pressed hard against her thigh, and she whimpered—not from pain, but from need.

I wanted to flip her over the table right there. Spread her legs. Bury myself so deep she'd forget her own name.

But I didn't.

I pulled back, holding her gaze. Her pupils were blown wide. Lips swollen.

She was Perfect.

Then the door opened.

Another woman arrived..the one Massimo had meant to bring. I waved her off.

I looked at Katarina, kneeling in front of me, her dress half off and her body still trembling.

Then I smiled.

"Let her go." She nodded frantically and ran.

But I didn't stop watching.

Not when she stumbled through the door. Not when she disappeared into the crowd.

I stood, adjusting my jacket, and walked to the exit.

There….on the street…I saw her climbing into a cab with another girl.

She looked back.

Our eyes met.

And I smiled and left.

…………………………………………

Back in the VIP room, Marco lit a cigarette. "You want me to find her?"

"Yes."

I looked at him, my voice cold and certain. "She walked into my world. That makes her mine now."

"You really gonna chase some random girl?"

I smiled slow and dangerous.

"She's not random anymore." She may have walked out that door. But she stopped being free the moment her lips touched mine. I’d find her. No matter what it took.”

Katarina POV - The Morning After

"Shit" The morning after the club, I woke up with my cheek glued to a textbook.

9:15 AM.

I'd overslept by two hours. Madame was going to murder me.

I shot up from my desk, my neck screaming in protest. The nursing exam notes were still scattered across my bedroom floor—I'd studied until 4 AM, trying to scrub the memory of green eyes and rough hands from my mind.

It hadn't worked.

I could still taste him. Still feel the ghost of his thumb on my nipple.

Stop it, Kat. Focus.

I grabbed my jacket and keys, shoving my feet into worn sneakers. My phone buzzed—three missed calls from Selena and one angry text:

Sel: WHERE ARE YOU?? Madame is asking questions!!

I texted back while rushing to the door:

Me: On my way. Cover for me. Please.

The apartment was silent. Too silent.

"Mom?" I called out, knowing I wouldn't get an answer.

I found her on the couch, passed out. An empty vodka bottle lay on its side on the coffee table. Next to it, a syringe.

My stomach turned.

"Mom." I shook her shoulder gently. Nothing. Her chest rose and fell—at least she was breathing.

This was the third time this week.

I grabbed a blanket from the hallway closet and draped it over her. There was nothing else I could do. I'd tried everything—begging, threatening, crying. She always promised to stop. She never did.

I locked the door behind me and ran down the stairs.

Outside, the cold October air slapped me awake. The bus stop was two blocks away, but when I got there, the bus was already pulling away from the curb.

"Damn it!"

I flagged down a cab instead, sliding into the backseat.

"Fifth and Maple," I told the driver. "The bookstore."

He grunted and pulled into traffic.

I counted the crumpled bills in my pocket. Twelve dollars. The fare would be at least fifteen.

Great. Just great.

I leaned my head against the window, watching the city blur past. Naples in the morning—gray buildings, cracked sidewalks, people rushing to jobs they hated. This place swallowed dreams whole.

But not mine. Not if I passed those nursing exams. Selena and I had been studying for months. If we both got into the university program, we could leave this city behind. Start fresh somewhere new.

Somewhere far away from drug-addicted mothers and mafia bosses with green eyes.

The cab pulled up in front of the bookstore.

"Fifteen-fifty," the driver said.

I handed him the twelve dollars. "I'm sorry. This is all I have right now. I can bring you the rest tomorrow—"

"Get out." His voice was flat, annoyed.

"Please, I work right here. I can—"

"I said get out."

My face burned with shame as I climbed out. He sped off before I could even close the door properly, shouting something in Italian that I was glad I didn't understand.

I stood on the sidewalk, humiliation sitting heavy in my chest and started walking .

Just get inside. Apologize to Madame. Get through the day.

That's when I noticed the car a black sedan following me

It hadn't been there when the cab dropped me off.

I turned and hurried toward the bookstore entrance.

But the car kept pace with me, crawling along the curb.

Then the passenger window rolled down.

A man leaned out…neck covered in tattoos, silver piercings glinting in the morning light.

"Katarina Delgado?"

I stopped walking, my blood freezing.

He knew my name. My full name. "Who are you?" I managed, my voice barely steady.

The man in the backseat leaned forward, grinning wide. Gold teeth. Scars crisscrossing his knuckles.

"Damn," he whistled low, looking me up and down like I was meat at a market. "Boss is gonna love you. Look at that body."

Panic exploded in my chest.

"I don't know what you want, but you've got the wrong person—"

"Oh, we've got the right person, sweetheart." The tattooed man's smile widened. "Don't worry. You'll understand everything real soon."

The driver revved the engine. "See you soon, Katarina."

The car peeled off, tires screeching, leaving me standing alone on the empty street

They were looking for me specifically.

But why? How?

My mind raced back to last night—the club, the kiss, the Don watching me leave with that satisfied smile.

Was this him? Had he sent them?

No. That didn't make sense. These men were different—rougher, cruder. Not the polished criminals from the club.

So who were they?

I forced my legs to move running towards the bookstore.

By the time I burst through the door, I was shaking, gasping for air.

Selena looked up from behind the counter, eyes widening in alarm. "Kat! What.."

She quickly shoved a pair of rubber gloves into my hands. "Here. Put these on and look busy. Madame's in the back."

I fumbled the gloves on with trembling fingers, grabbing the nearest book and pretending to organize the shelf.

But I couldn't stop shaking.

"Kat." Selena leaned closer, voice low. "What happened? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"There was a car," I whispered. "Following me. The men inside... they knew my name, Selena. My full name."

Her face went pale. "What?"

"I don't know who they are or what they want, but"

"Katarina!"

Madame's sharp voice cut through the store like a whip. She emerged from the back office, eyes narrowed with suspicion.

"Where have you been?"

"Restroom," I lied quickly, keeping my voice steady despite my pounding heart. "Sorry, Madame."

Selena jumped in without missing a beat. "Yeah, she's been helping me sort inventory. We've been working all morning."

Madame studied me for a long moment, clearly skeptical. Then she huffed and retreated back to her office.

The second she was gone, Selena gripped my arm. "Kat, this isn't normal. Men following you, knowing your name? You need to call the police."

"And tell them what? That a car followed me for one block? They'll think I'm crazy."

"Then at least stay with me tonight. Don't go home alone."

I nodded, grateful. "Okay. Yeah. Thanks, Sel."

I tried to focus on work, but my eyes kept drifting to the front window.

And that's when I saw it.

A different car…Parked directly across the street. This one was Red

It was personal unlike the thugs…..The owner was watching me …I blinked again and then it was gone…whoever it was drove off

Giordano's POV- Earlier That Morning

I sat behind my desk, the red glow of Naples' city lights filtering through the blinds. My cigarette burned slow..

Two of my girls were counting money at the corner table—crumpled bills from last night's work at the strip club. Tips from men who'd spent the evening with their hands on my property.

The girls knew better than to speak unless spoken to. They counted in silence.

Three days ago, a man stumbled into my office.

Ricardo Delgado. Reeking of cheap whiskey and failure.

He'd collapsed into the chair across from my desk, hands shaking, eyes bloodshot.

"I got something for you," he'd slurred. "Something valuable."

I'd almost shot him right there. I don't do business with drunks.

But then he pulled out a photo.

Crumpled. Stained. But the image was clear enough.

A girl. Young. Curves that could stop traffic. Innocent face with wide, doe-like eyes.

"My daughter," he said, tapping the photo with a dirty fingernail. "Nineteen. Virgin. Beautiful. She's worth more than anything I owe you."

I leaned back in my chair, studying the photo. "You're offering me your daughter?"

"I'm offering you an investment," he corrected, like he was some kind of businessman. "Pure. Untouched. You know what virgins go for. You could make a fortune."

He wasn't wrong.

But I wasn't planning to sell her.

I wanted her for myself.

"How much?" I asked.

His eyes lit up like I'd just thrown him a lifeline. "Fifty thousand."

I laughed—cold, harsh. "You're delusional."

"Forty! Forty and she's yours."

"Thirty. Final offer."

"Deal!" He practically shouted it.

Idiot. He would've taken ten.

But I wanted him to have enough money to live with what he'd done. Enough to drink himself to death thinking about it.

I'd sent my men to confirm the girl existed. To make sure she matched the photo. To verify she was really untouched.

The door to my office opened now, and Scarface walked in with Mikey the Hammer close behind.

"Well?" I didn't look up from my cigarette.

Mikey dropped a new photo on my desk. "It's her. Katarina Delgado. Even better in person, boss."

I picked up the photo. Taken from a distance—the girl walking down the street, completely unaware she was being hunted.

Perfect.

"Confirmed virgin?" I asked.

Scarface nodded. "Our sources checked everything. No boyfriend. Works at a bookstore. Quiet girl. Lives with her drug-addict mother and older brother."

"Does she know?" I asked.

Scarface shook his head. "About her father selling her? No. We followed her this morning, let her see us. Wanted to gauge her reaction."

"And?"

"Terrified. Ran straight to work. She's got no idea what's coming."

I stubbed out my cigarette. "Bring her to me. Tonight."

Mikey raised an eyebrow. "Tonight? Boss, we could wait a few days, let the father prep her—"

"Tonight," I repeated, my voice dropping to ice. "I don't wait for what's already mine."

They nodded and turned to leave.

"One more thing," I called after them.

They stopped.

"Pay the father. All thirty thousand."

Scarface looked confused. "Boss, he'd take half that—"

I smiled slowly. "I want him to have that money. I want him to hold those bills in his hands and imagine what I'm doing to his daughter every single night."

Understanding dawned on Scarface's face. He grinned. "You're a twisted bastard, boss."

"That's why I run this city better than Vittorio."

I stared at Katarina's photo again, tracing her face with one finger.

Pretty. Innocent. Untouched.

Not for long.

In a few hours, she'd be in my bed.

And once I claimed something…I never let it go.

Ever.

Chapter 4: Two Sides Of Nerdy Liam

Katarina POV - Inside the Bookstore

"Kat, you've been staring at that same page for twenty minutes."

Selena's voice barely registered. I was lost somewhere else. The bookstore was quiet.

Madame had left hours ago, leaving just me and Selena to close up for the night.

I sat behind the counter with a book open in my lap—one of those dark, filthy romance novels we kept hidden in the back section. The kind with a half-naked man on the cover that would get us fired if Madame caught us reading them.

But I needed the distraction.

After this morning—the red car, those tattooed men who knew my name—I needed to forget. Even if just for a moment.

The book was still in my lap. The same filthy page with the same aching feeling between my legs.

"He slammed into her, stretching her wide as she moaned his name. Her hands clawed the desk, her body shaking as his cock drove deeper, deeper…"

I read the sentence again. And again.

Not because it was new. But because it made my body forget everything else.

My eyes burned down the page. My thighs clenched, pressing together under the counter stool. I shifted, my knee bumping the wooden shelf as I inhaled sharply.

God.

This one was filthier than the last. Exactly what I needed.

My panties were already damp, the soft cotton sticking to me with every twitch, teasing me. I shouldn't be reading this here. I really shouldn't.

But I couldn't stop.

Every line made my heart beat faster. Not because of the words. But because of who I kept imagining.

Him.

Not the fake fantasy man in the book.

The Don.

His cold green eyes. His full mouth. The way his hand gripped my tits like he owned them. The way he didn't ask before taking—he just knew.

I bit my lower lip, hard. My nipples ached against the inside of my bra. It was shameful, disgusting, the way my body reacted just thinking about him.

I'd never been touched like that. Never kissed like that..

I shifted again on the stool, the seam of my jeans pressing deliciously where I needed it most. I squeezed my thighs together tighter.

What would he feel like inside me? Would he be rough? Would he tie me down? Would he hold my wrists while he slammed into me over and over until I screamed his name?

A little moan slipped out before I could catch it. My palm slid down, slow and shaky, hovering just over the button of my jeans. One little touch. One little press. I could already feel how wet I was. For him.

I bit down on my fist, heartbeat hammering—

"Kat?"

My head jerked up.

Shit.

Liam stood in the doorway. He was one of our regular customers—came in every week for manga and graphic novels. Usually shy and awkward, always polite.

I scrambled to shut the book and shove it beneath the register, praying he hadn't noticed the way my cheeks were flushed or how I was practically squirming on the stool.

"Hey," I said hoping my voice didn't sound breathless. "You, uh, need something?"

He gave a little crooked smile.

His hair was messy as always, but his clothes were different. Neater. Like he'd changed who he was today.

"Hi, Katarina." He stepped forward, his hand twitching slightly before disappearing into his jacket pocket. "You... looked focused."

"You were really into that," he said softly, his voice lower than usual.

"I—just reading inventory stuff," I lied.

"I saw the cover. That wasn't inventory."

My heart fluttered with embarrassment, but something in his tone made it stutter with fear too. He stepped forward, slowly and stared not at my face but at my throat or maybe my shoulders.

"You smell different today," he said, voice was strangely low.

My stomach felt weird…why was messy Liam acting strange?.

"I—um—showered?" I offered, forcing a little laugh.

He tilted his head. "No. It's not soap." He stepped closer, and I instinctively gripped the counter between us. "It's... Arousal... And sweet."

"Liam, are you okay?"

He blinked. Then he smiled suddenly, like a light switch being flipped. "Yeah! Totally. I'm fine." His voice was pitched up now, lighter, nerdier. Like the Liam I knew.

But i felt something was wrong in my gut. The way his posture dropped an inch and his lips twitching every secound.

He placed a graphic novel on the counter. "They added volume six," he said in that easy tone again, "I thought of you when I saw it."

I scanned it slowly. "Thanks," I said. "That's sweet."

He leaned forward. "Do you want to hang out later? I could—cook."

Cook?

I swallowed. "I'm staying at Selena's tonight."

"Right. Right." He nodded too fast. "Sleepover. Girls. Secrets. Lying."

My breath caught. "What?"

His eye twitched again and his smile left his face. "You don't have to be scared of me," he said quietly. "But... we don't like when you think about other men."

I froze.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Liam?" I whispered. "Who's we..Did you do drugs or something?"

"Nothing…I’m sorry...Just kidding." back into that nerdy tone again.

He pulled a folded paper from his back pocket and set it down. "This is for you."

I stared at it.

"What is it?"

His voice had dropped calmer now. "You don't have to be scared of me."

I didn't say anything. I just watched him back away, turn, and walk out the door.

I waited three whole minutes before I reached for the paper.

It was folded perfectly with crisp edges, like someone had measured them. I opened it slowly.

In neat handwriting, it read:

"Don't let the other one see this. I'll keep you safe. But I can't hold him back forever." —L

I stared at it.

Other one? Who the hell was "other one"?

I turned the paper over. On the back, in completely different handwriting—messier, more aggressive:

"He's lying. I'm the one protecting you." —Also L

Two messages. Two different handwriting styles. Both signed L.

Something was very wrong with Liam.

I slid the note into my bra and glanced toward the front window. Liam was standing outside on the sidewalk hitting his haed with his hands.

A chill ran down my spine

The store was quiet again. I looked around and the light outside was fading. It was getting dark. Selena was already packing up, organizing her things to leave for the evening.

I checked the time—5:30 p.m.

I was supposed to text Mateo my older brother so he wouldn't worry. I hadn't even told him I was staying at Selena's tonight.

When I finally checked my phone, I saw multiple missed calls from him.

I started panicking immediately Mateo never called this much. Why didn't I notice earlier? Why didn't I pick up?

I dialed his number, but it went straight to voicemail.

This was strange. Mateo was always in touch, especially in a city like this where dangerous gangs operated in broad daylight.

I quickly sent him a text, then stared at my phone screen, waiting for a reply that never came. I could feel the unease building in my stomach.

I looked at Selena, who was already at the door, her bag flung over her shoulder.

"What's going on?" she asked, her voice low. She'd picked up on the change in my mood.

I shook my head. "I'm not sure. But it's weird. Mateo's not answering."

I stared down at my phone, waiting for a reply that never came.

Then I saw the last message he'd sent:

Mateo: If he shows up, don't let him in.

My blood went cold.