The next three days were hell for me.
Florence was still foreign.
But I was no longer bothered about it.
I was learning faster than my pace.
Leonardo's version of training wasn't cool or nice. It was war disguised as etiquette.
How to read a room, how to memorize names of enemies, how to pour wine and poison with the same smile and many more techniques to outsmart enemies in a dangerous but classy way.
While luciano taught me how to shoot and flirt. Sometimes at the same time. And I wonder if the flirting part was necessary but he is cool btw.
And Dante? That dude is a demon in human skin. Always acting like something died in his ass. If not for his pretty face, I really should kill him.
He taught me pain. Actual pain that feels like you're on fire or dying.
Bruises were across my on ribs as if it were tattoos. But you know what? It's not! My knuckles were bloody and in pain, pain!!!. While my pride had been torn and sewn back together daily.
But I was getting stronger, faster and sharper.
"You like hurting me, don't you?" I muttered the morning we were training after he slammed my precious back down the mat for the third time.
Dante looked down at me, with sweat glistening on his jaw. He looks hot when he's being worked out "I like keeping you alive." He said as if he's words could take the pain away.
"As if you fucker."
He helped me up, his fingers brushing mine for half a second too long.
And that was how it always was — close enough to burn, never close enough to have.
"Why do you act like if you hold me a little bit longer, your hand will get burnt or something." I said to him feeling a little bit offended.
He stared at me longer than normal before speaking, "If I hold you longer, training won't be the only thing you'll do here principessa." He said, his eyes looking darker than it was before.
I felt myself drip from his words. How can that turn me on.
He then left without saying another word, leaving me alone in training room feeling frustrated.
That night,
Santino called me to the sitting room. It was dimly lit, and surprisingly, my father wasn't alone.
A man sat across from him looking tall and elegant, with pale skin and silver-blond hair slicked back. He looked like a ghost with money and his eyes were ice.
"Mia," Santino said, motioning to the couch across from them. "This is Baron Alexei Volkov. He flew in to Italy from Russia."
I sat cautiously. "Baron?" I asked
Volkov smiled. "An outdated title. But it keeps people in line."
I studied him closely. "What's a Russian baron doing in a Tuscan fortress?"
He chuckled, low and smooth. "Business. And curiosity. I've heard… fascinating things about you."
"Oh yeah? Like what?" I asked sounding amused because I didn't expect people to know me.
"That a lost De Luca princess has returned from exile. That she has fire in her blood. And that she's… untouched by the rot of our world."
Mia's gaze darkened. "You don't know me."
"I'd like to."
Santino cut in, "Volkov's family controls trade routes through Eastern Europe. We've been allies for decades."
"Temporary allies," Volkov said smoothly. "We're always one betrayal away from war."
I smirked. "Sounds like love."
He laughed.
Dante entered the room silently then, standing behind her like always. His presence already making me feel tense.
Volkov's eyes flicked to him.
"You must be the watchdog."
Dante didn't blink. "And you must be the parasite."
Santino sighed. "Enough. Alexei is here for one reason — the masquerade gala."
Mia raised a brow. "Masquerade?"
Volkov smiled. "It's an old tradition. One night a year, masks come off… after the masks go on."
Mia leaned back. "Sounds like bullshit."
"It's power play wrapped in elegance," Santino explained. "All five families attend. Including the Vitellis, the Valentis… and us."
"And I'm going?"
"You're center stage," he said. "The De Luca heir's first public appearance."
Dante shifted behind her.
Mia swallowed. "So it's a test."
Santino smiled faintly. "It's a bloodbath in formalwear."
Later that night
I stood in her room, staring at my reflection in the mirror.
I wore a black lace gown showing my coverage with a long slit to the thigh. The dress clung to my curves tightly, showing off my figure and round ass.
"I love my ass." I said as I gave it a light tap.
A silver mask shaped like wings covered the top half of my face.
Mehn, I look dangerously beautiful.
Luciano whistled as he entered. "Damn, sorella. You look like a black widow. Minus the actual murder. For now."
"Period!!! But I hate masks."
He smirked. "You'll fit right in then."
Leonardo appeared behind him. "The car's ready."
I nodded, my heart suddenly feeling uneasy.
Dante was waiting outside by the sleek black Rolls-Royce.
He was wearing a black tux and black mask.
He was sin wrapped in silk. He looks too hot for my own good.
He didn't say a word as he opened the door for her.
But his eyes did say I looked hot. It was full of Lu stand anger. I wonder who twisted his balls.
But he gave a "you look like mine" face.
I got in the car and he sat down in the passenger seat.
Then the driver drove off.
At the Gala,
The building the event was held in looked like it belonged in a fantasy movie.
With the sparkling chandeliers and laughters that sounded too classy and rich.
Instepped through the ballroom like I own the event. All eyes turned.
Whispers followed.
"Is that her?"
"That's the daughter?"
"She looks like Bianca…"
I held her head high. I then gave the gossipers a death look and they kept quiet.
Volkov approached with a glass of champagne.
"Shall we dance?"
Dante moved behind me, but I stopped him from interrupting.
"I've got this."
Volkov offered his hand and I took it.
On the dancefloor, we spun under chandeliers dripping with diamonds.
"You're not what I expected," he said.
"Then lower your expectations."
He chuckled. "Tell me, Mia… do you know who killed your cousin Adriano?"
My feet faltered.
"No," she said slowly.
"Of course not," he whispered. "No one talks about it. But it was an inside job."
I pulled back.
Volkov smiled. "Florence is full of ghosts. Be careful who you trust."
He kissed the back of my hand and vanished into the crowd.
I turned and bumped right into Dante's chest.
His jaw was clenched.
"Care to explain what that was?"
"A warning."
Dante leaned down, voice razor-sharp. "Next time he dances with you, I'll cut off his fucking hands."
"Jealous?"
"Protective."
I arched a brow. "Same thing in your world?"
"In my world, Mia," he said darkly, "jealous men kill without blinking."