“I’m here to see Luca Camorra,” she said, interrupting what he was about to say. The name dropped between them like a loaded weapon. Even the air around them seemed to shift at just the mention of Luca’s name. The second guard straightened. The first went completely still, his eyes sharpening with something darker and more alert. Well, that got their attention.
“Who sent you?” he asked.
“No one sent me,” she spat.
“Then you’re not seeing him,” the guard insisted.
Isabella held his gaze, refusing to back down even as her pulse began to pound. “Tell him his future wife, Isabella Romano, is here.” For a moment, the whole world seemed to stop. She noticed when the guard’s expression changed. It was subtle, but enough to let her know that he recognized her name. Or maybe it was just the weight of a name that meant something in a world she was only beginning to understand.
He pulled out his phone, speaking quietly into it, his eyes never leaving her. Seconds stretched so tightly that she felt like she was suffocating. Isabella forced herself to remain still, to breathe evenly, and not show how much this moment mattered to her because it did—more than anything.
Finally, the guard lowered the phone. “He says he won’t see you.” The words hit like a sharp blow to her chest. But she didn’tlet her disappointment show. Instead, she stepped closer—close enough that the guard tensed slightly.
“Then tell him this,” she said quietly. “Tell him I know what happened to my father.” Silence followed, heavy and dangerous. It was a lie, but there was no way that she’d tell him that. The guard’s jaw tightened, and he didn’t move at first. Then he raised the phone again. This time, the call was brief. He slid the phone back into his pocket and stepped aside.
“Go on in,” he said. Relief didn’t come like Isabella thought it would, as she stepped around him and into the club. Instead, she felt a sharper edge of tension, but Isabella still didn’t hesitate. She walked inside the club with her head held high. She was finally going to meet the man who threatened her and her family’s very existence—the man her father had promised her hand in marriage to.
The club swallowed her whole—dark lights, pulsing music, bodies moving too close together. But beneath all of it, there was something else—power, and even control. This wasn’t just a place for dancing and drinking. This was Camorra territory, and she had just stepped into the center of it.
She moved through the crowd, ignoring the glances that followed her, the subtle way that others’ attention shifted. People were watching her. They were tracking her. “Let them,” she whispered to herself.
A man in a black suit appeared at her side before she reached the bar. “Follow me,” he ordered. It wasn’t a question, and Isabella knew better than to argue.
She followed him through the main floor, past a guarded hallway, and up a private staircase where the music faded into a distant hum. Each step upward felt like she was crossing a line she couldn’t uncross, but she kept going, because there was no turning back now. At the top, the man stopped in front of a heavy wooden door. He knocked once, then opened it without waiting.
“Boss,” he said. “She’s here.” He stepped aside, and Isabella walked in. The room was quieter than the club downstairs. It was dimly lit, but she could tell that it looked expensive without being over the top. And at the center of it—him. Luca Camorra.
He stood near the window like he owned everything he looked at. He was tall, handsome, and seemed to be dripping with danger in a way that didn’t need to be boastful to be understood. His gaze shifted to hers, and everything inside her stilled. There was no surprise in his expression, only assessment. His eyes were cold, precise, and unforgiving.
The door shut behind her with a soft click, sealing her inside with him. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. “You have exactly thirty seconds,” Luca said, his voice low, controlled, edged with quiet warning. “Convince me why I shouldn’t have you thrown out.”
Isabella’s pulse thundered in her ears. But she didn’t look away or step back from him. “Because you know my father.” Something flickered in his expression, but was gone almost as quickly as it appeared. “And I’m hoping that you also know what happened to him.”
“I know a lot of men,” he replied coolly.
“Not like him, you don’t,” she challenged. Silence stretched between them, and Isabella took a bold step forward—just one. It was enough to show she wasn’t afraid, even if it was a complete lie.
“Antonio Romano,” she said. “You were the last person to see him before his disappearance, and if you don’t tell me what happened to him—” Her throat tightened, but she forced the words out.
“I will,” he simply agreed. The air shifted around them, and Luca went completely still. Then, slowly, he smiled. But there was nothing warm about it. “You have no idea what you’reasking,” he said softly. Maybe she didn’t, but she wasn’t backing down.
“I think I do,” she challenged, raising her chin defiantly at him. His eyes darkened, and she wasn’t sure if it was with interest, amusement, or something far more dangerous threading through them.
“Isabella Romano,” he repeated, like he was committing the name to memory. “You walk into my world, say my name like you belong here, and make threats?”
“I don’t make threats,” she said. “More like promises. Besides, I do belong here. I am going to be your wife, am I not?” The tension snapped tight between them. And for the first time, Luca looked at her like she wasn’t just a problem that he wanted to make go away.
“Careful,” he murmured, stepping closer. His steps were slow, measured, and almost predatory. “Girls who make promises to men like me don’t usually live long enough to keep them. And future wife or not, I say who belongs here, Isabella, and you don’t.”
Isabella’s heart pounded hard enough to shake her ribs. But she didn’t move and didn’t retreat. “Good thing,” she said quietly, “I’m not like most girls.”
That same dangerous smile returned. “Yeah,” Luca said, voice low, dark, and intrigued. “I’m starting to see that. But it doesn’t change the fact that you don’t belong here. If your family catches you here before our wedding, they will try to kill both of us.” He was right, and she hated that, but there was no way that she’d allow him to boss her around.
“Fine,” she spat. “I’ll go, but I won’t stop until I get answers about my father, and I believe that you can give me those answers, Luca.” She turned and walked out of his office, holding her breath until she got back out to the street. She half expected Luca to stop her from leaving, after making threats, but hehadn’t. And in that moment, Isabella understood something she hadn’t before. Walking into his club hadn’t just changed everything; it had just sealed her fate.
Luca
Luca didn’t like surprises, and tonight had delivered one wrapped in dark hair, defiance, with a death wish. He stood in the shadowed corner of the upper hallway, his arms crossed over his broad chest, as he watched the closed office door, like it might explode at any second. He was alone with her—Isabella Romano, before he forced her to leave. He was a fool for letting her go before hearing her out. If Romano was missing, he needed more details, and Isabella was the one who could give them to him.
