Cece POV

His words hit like a hand plunging my face into ice water.

A sharp, hollow pain flared behind my ribs. I silently mocked my own foolish, lingering hopes. Why had I ever thought a man of his brutal calculus could harbor a soft spot for a nobody like me?

"Since you're so curious about my past, Gianna, let's talk about yours." Felix leaned forward, resting his muscular forearms on the table. "How many men have you entertained before me?"

I froze. Gianna was a proud Mafia Princess—jaded, experienced. Play the part.

"I've had about ten past relationships," I lied, lifting my chin.

Felix stopped moving. The temperature in the room seemed to plummet. His eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Ten?" The word sounded like a lethal threat.

"We were just playing around," I explained quickly, my palms sweating. "Nothing serious. It's normal in our circles."

He let out a chilling, mocking laugh that scraped against my nerves like jagged glass. A cold sweat broke out on the back of my neck. I'd misstepped, and the fragile pretense of civility between us had dissolved.

"Perhaps we should call off this arrangement," I said, gripping the edge of my seat. "We clearly don't align."

Felix stood slowly. His towering frame cast a shadow that seemed to press down with physical weight.

"Do you treat a blood-bound union as a game?" His voice was dangerously quiet. "Do you think you can sit at my table, waste my time, and simply walk away?"

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. My throat had locked shut.

Felix turned his back to me, walked to the heavy oak door, and left without another glance.

I sat alone, my heart aching so deeply I could barely breathe. A minute later, a heavily armed soldier stepped into the room.

"The Underboss has already paid the bill," he stated flatly, and stepped back out.

I wrapped my shaking hands around my teacup. Once I'd regained a fraction of control, I pulled out the burner phone and texted Gianna: *He left. The meeting is over.*

Ten minutes later, the door opened again. Gianna walked in flanked by her own guards, visibly annoyed.

"What happened?" she demanded, dropping into the chair Felix had just vacated.

"He asked about my past. I told him I had ten ex-boyfriends to sound like you. He got angry and walked out."

Gianna rolled her eyes. "You idiot. Felix is a possessive psychopath. Ever since he was sent away for brutal training as a kid, he doesn't share his toys. He certainly doesn't tolerate a bride with a long history."

So the rumor went. Felix had disappeared for two years in his early teens—no explanation, no contact with anyone outside the Family. When he came back, he was different. Colder. Everyone at the academy whispered about what they'd done to him. No one knew for sure.

I looked down at my hands. "I'm sorry. I failed."

Gianna sighed heavily. "I knew he had a hidden obsession. He's too cold, too calculated. I'm terminating your contract. I'll pay you the hazard fee for today, but we're done."

I nodded, a heavy weight settling on my shoulders. It was for the best, I told myself.

Then my burner phone lit up, vibrating against the dark wood.

I picked it up, and a chill seized me so profoundly my limbs felt disconnected, the muscles in my back and neck locking rigid.

A direct message from an unknown, encrypted number.

*I will see you on Friday at eight. Do not be late, Gianna.*

Cece POV

I stared at the harsh glow of my burner phone.

Gianna leaned over my shoulder, her perfectly manicured eyebrows shooting up. "Why is a man who deals in absolutes inviting you for a second meeting? Is he actually interested in you?"

I shook my head immediately. "I'm keeping a strictly professional boundary. He doesn't even know who I really am."

"Just go," Gianna ordered. "He only values strategic alliances and territory. He probably just wants to finalize the terms for the East Side operations. Don't mess this up."

She stood and left, her guards trailing close behind.

I sat alone in the thick silence that descended—not empty, but heavy, muffling the distant city sounds until all I could hear was the faint hum of the ventilation. I thought of how mercilessly Felix had rejected girls at the academy. He'd never given anyone a second glance. I resolved to bury my foolish feelings forever. Survive the job, take the money, pay off my father's debt.

I typed a brief confirmation to Felix, then switched to my personal phone and contacted the owner of a local speakeasy. I needed to pick up my underground singing shift tonight. I needed the extra cash.

Hours later, I stood in the cramped dressing room of the mafia-owned bar, changing into a dark, shimmering dress that caught the low light. I walked out onto the small stage, the air thick with cigarette smoke and the low rumble of dangerous men.

I grabbed the vintage microphone—and that's when I saw him.

Felix Falcone was sitting in a dimly lit VIP booth right at the edge of the low stage.

I pressed a hand to my breastbone, as if to quiet the frantic motion within, but the thin silk of my dress offered no anchor against the violent thudding beneath. Forcing myself to look away, I signaled the band and started singing—a slow, haunting song about hidden love.

I kept my eyes on the far back wall, but in my periphery I could see his Capos and soldiers gathered around him, drinking heavily and laughing. During the quiet instrumental break, their voices carried clearly over the ambient noise.

"Come on, Boss," one of his Capos teased. "Are you still looking for that legendary academy obsession of yours?"

"Personal interests are a separate matter from business," Felix replied, his voice cutting through the smoky air, low and absolute.

His men went quiet. One of them nervously cleared his throat. "What about the impending arranged marriage to the Capo's daughter? You just met with her today."

Felix took a slow sip of his drink. "The alliance will be honored. That doesn't mean my attention can't be… divided."

My voice trembled. I missed a note entirely.

The band smoothly covered my mistake, but my hands were shaking so badly I gripped the microphone stand with both hands to keep it steady. His men pressed for details, visibly confused.

"In the Famiglia, whether you like your bride or not is irrelevant," Felix stated flatly. "The marriage is a tool. Nothing more."

I closed my eyes, feeling the insurmountable distance yawn between my fragile civilian life and the lethal machinery of his.