ZOE DEAN’S POV
It was impossible to unhear Nero’s voice from earlier on the jet. The steel in it. The command. The way he had said, "Kill them all," like it was nothing more than a task to tick off a list.
That tone... cold, deliberate, inhuman.
It haunted .
Now, stretched out on a sunlounger with dark shades covering my eyes and a bikini clinging to my skin, I felt anything but relaxed. The sun was soft against my shoulders, the air carried a cool breeze, and the rooftop of the villa looked like a picture from a travel magazine. A sparkling pool glistened just in front of us, drinks sat sweating on the little table between Emily and , and still, I couldn’t stop thinking about the way his voice had sounded.
Was I really supposed to be here? With him?
I let out a small sigh, sinking deeper into the cushions.
Emily tilted her head toward from her own lounger. "Zoe, are you okay? You’ve been quiet." Her voice was calm, concerned, but not pushy. The kind of tone that invited honesty.
"I’m fine," I murmured, keeping my gaze fixed on the sky. "Just tired from the flight."
It was a lie. We both knew it.
"Are you sure?" she pressed gently.
My throat tightened. Maybe I should say sothing. She was with Benny. She knew this world better than I did. Maybe she’d understand. Maybe she’d even reassure .
"I feel fine," I said slowly, trying to gather the words, "but I don’t know if I am fine."
Emily shifted slightly, propping herself on an elbow, her eyes on . "How do you an?"
I slipped my sunglasses off and set them on the table. The weight of her stare made my chest tighten. "I feel like I should be afraid of soone," I admitted, "but sohow... I’m not."
Her gaze softened in understanding, though her sigh carried sothing heavier. "Is this about Nero?"
The na hit harder than it should have. I exhaled, barely audible. "Yes."
For a mont she didn’t speak, just looked at with an expression I couldn’t quite read. Then she turned away, breathing out loud enough for to hear, before shifting back to face again.
"I’ve been aning to talk to you about this," she said quietly. "I just didn’t know how to bring it up."
My pulse quickened. "Talk to about what?"
Her eyes flicked to mine, steady, almost reluctant. "It’s about you and Nero."
My brows pulled together. "What about us?"
Emily hesitated, her voice lowering. "Zoe... I’m not supposed to be saying this, but Nero isn’t who you think he is. He’s dangerous. Really dangerous. He’s a mafia Don. People fear him for a reason. He’s the kind of man who takes lives without blinking."
Her words sliced through , sharp and unflinching. I swallowed, trying to steady my breath. "I know that," I whispered, even though the way she spelled it out made my skin prickle.
"No, Zoe. You think you know. But there are things you don’t."
My eyes narrowed slightly. "What things?"
Emily paused, like she was weighing whether to go on. "I don’t think you know who his father is."
I blinked, taken aback. "His father?" The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. "I didn’t even... know Nero had parents."
"His mother was killed years ago," Emily said softly. "It’s just his father now. And that man? You don’t ever want to cross paths with him. He’s powerful. Dangerous in ways you can’t imagine."
Her words stunned . I stared down at the rim of my glass, tracing the condensation with my fingertip. His mother... killed? A strange ache tugged at my chest.
Emily’s voice pulled back. "Nero is very dangerous," she repeated, her gaze steady, her tone almost protective. "I just want you to be sure you know what you’re walking into."
My lips parted but no words ca out at first. Finally, I breathed, "I don’t understand what you’re saying."
She didn’t flinch. "You seem to be falling for him."
The words landed like a splash of cold water. I blinked at her, heat creeping to my cheeks. "What? Falling for him?"
She arched a brow knowingly. "Even a blind man could see it, Zoe. The way you look at each other. The way he looks at you."
My heart stumbled over itself. Falling for him? Nero? The man who ordered deaths like it was business?
I opened my mouth to deny it, but no words ca. Instead, a faint, guilty smile tugged at my lips. Because maybe she was right. Maybe I was falling for him. And that terrified . Because it didn’t feel wrong.
It didn’t feel bad at all.
****
STEFANO RUSSO’S (NERO) POV
The bass from the main floor thumped through the walls, steady and heavy, almost like a second heartbeat. I stepped inside the club, dark shades hiding my eyes, my suit pressed and sharp enough to slice. Smoke hung thick in the air, lights flickered across the crowd, and the laughter of drunk n echoed, careless and loud.
A guard in black appeared almost imdiately. His head dipped low, respect—or fear, maybe both—rolling off him. "Sir, the boss is waiting for you in the VIP area."
I gave a single nod. My shoes struck the marble tiles with slow, deliberate weight as he led deeper into the shadows, away from the chaos of the dance floor.
The private lounge felt like another world. Suited n leaned lazily on velvet couches, glasses half-empty, their watches flashing under the chandelier’s glow. Won clung to them like ornants, perfu mixing with the sour bite of spilled alcohol. Cash and cards lay scattered across the tables as if wealth was nothing more than decoration.
The boss, CEO Ben, was the first to notice . He stood with a smile stretched too wide, the kind of grin ant to cover nerves. I didn’t miss the tremor in his hands as he raised his glass.
"Nero," he greeted, voice loud enough to carry. "Finally, you arrive. Welco, welco."
I caught the flicker in his eyes—fear, plain and simple. His shoulders were tight, his movents rehearsed. Still, he gestured for to sit. Turning to the others, he spoke my na like he was unveiling a legend.
"This man... he is not to be underestimated. Nero. The son of a na known across the mafia world. A killer, I tell you."
The n gave polite nods, a few smirking to hide their unease. Most didn’t dare et my gaze. I lowered myself onto the couch, silent, my senses sharpening.
The boss snapped his fingers. "Bring him a gift."
A woman appeared almost instantly. She was barely dressed, her skin glowing under the dim light. She slid against like water, her fingers tracing my chest, her perfu sharp, invasive. She whispered, soft and practiced, her hands searching for sothing—anything.
But my mind wasn’t here. It wasn’t with her.
It was with Zoe.
I kept seeing her face, wondering what look she’d wear when I returned to the villa. Would it be anger? Fear? Or that silence she gave recently, the kind that said more than words could? The thought of her cut deeper than the woman’s touch.
I shook my head. "I didn’t co for this."
The woman faltered, confused, but I leaned forward, lowering my voice so only the boss could hear.
"I ca for my money."
His smile froze, his entire face stiffening. The chatter around the table died.
For a mont, there was only silence. Then his grin returned, wider, almost desperate. "Of course... your money."
But his eyes gave him away. Sothing was wrong.
The door to the VIP area burst open, slamming against the wall. Heavy boots thundered in. n flooded the room, faces hard, guns already drawn, already raised. The tallic clicks of weapons cocking filled the air.
A trap.
My jaw clenched. I’d known it wouldn’t go smoothly, hadn’t I?
Slowly, I stood, keeping my hands loose at my sides. A smile tugged at my mouth—sharp, mischievous, the kind of smile that never reached my eyes.
CEO Ben looked at with triumph, his grin turning cruel. "You shouldn’t have co," he said, his voice cold.
I tilted my head at him, unbothered, still wearing that smile. "I did what you asked to. And now you want to kill ?"
He shrugged like it was nothing, then turned to his n. "Kill him."
The gunfire erupted at once.
The first shot shattered a glass, spraying red wine across the table like blood. Won scread, scrambling to escape. Suited n dove for cover, curses spilling from their lips.
I moved before the smoke cleared, dropping low, rolling behind a chair. My pistol was in my hand before my mind had even finished the thought. The weight of it was grounding, familiar.
The air shook with bullets, deafening cracks slicing through shadows. Bottles exploded. Cushions tore apart. The velvet couches darkened with blood.
I breathed steady. Cold. Focused. Every shot I fired was precise. One man dropped. Then another. Then another.
They’d set up, thought I was cornered.
But n like don’t die in cages.
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