Hi... My name is Aria .Aria Moretti . Only Daughter of Christ Moretti and Shana Christ Moretti. Being the only daughter of the richest man of slumberland I was pampered to hell . Born with a diamond spoon I lived a life of luxury and comfort . They call met" The Enchantment of the Slumberland " . Yet I had only one regret . Not losing my v card .
The neon haze of Slumberland pulsed like a living heartbeat outside my penthouse window, casting electric blues and purples across my vanity. At nineteen, I was the princess of this glittering dreamscape—a city where skyscrapers kissed the clouds and underground empires ruled the shadows. Daddy's real estate empire owned half the skyline, Mommy's fashion lines draped the elite, and I? I was their sparkling trophy, showered with Birkins, private jets, and whispers of admiration wherever I floated. Parties at the Crystal Tower, yacht weekends in the bay, shopping sprees that could bankrupt lesser fortunes. Everyone wanted a piece of the Enchantment.But in the quiet hours, when the city lights blurred into a hypnotic glow, that one nagging void gnawed at me. Virginity. It sounded so archaic, so untouched in a world of excess. My friends—those vapid socialites with their perfect Instagram feeds—had crossed that bridge years ago, giggling over conquests at exclusive clubs. I'd flirted, teased, even let hands wander at Daddy's galas, but always pulled back. Fear? Maybe. Perfectionism? Definitely. I wanted it epic, unforgettable, not some fumbling hookup in a frat house or a model's penthouse. Slumberland was full of pretty boys, but none ignited that fire. None made my pulse thunder like the city's hidden storms.Tonight, though, I craved escape. A text from my bestie, Lila, buzzed my phone: Velvet Abyss. VIP list. Be here. Hot new crowd. Perfect. Daddy's black AmEx covered the town car, and I slipped into my favorite slinky red dress—silk hugging every curve like a lover's promise. No bodyguards tonight; I was tired of their watchful eyes. Slumberland might glitter, but its underbelly whispered danger, and I was ready to dance on the edge.The Velvet Abyss throbbed at the city's heart, a subterranean club carved from obsidian marble and crystal chandeliers. Bouncers parted like the Red Sea at my name, and I descended into bass-heavy chaos. Bodies writhed under strobe lights, champagne flowed like rivers, and the air thick with perfume, sweat, and secrets. Lila pulled me into a booth, her eyes glassy from shots. "Aria! Finally! Meet the crew—Jax, Mia, and... oh, who's that?"My gaze snagged on him across the VIP balcony. Tall, broad-shouldered, in a tailored black suit that screamed power. Dark hair tousled just enough, jaw carved from marble, eyes like molten emeralds scanning the crowd with predatory calm. He wasn't dancing, wasn't laughing—just commanding the space, men in suits flanking him like shadows. Whispers rippled: That's Luca Vitale. Mafia King. Owns the night. Heart stuttered. Mafia? In Slumberland? Daddy's world was legitimate empires; this was the silk-wrapped venom beneath.Lila shoved a glowing cocktail my tray. "Tray of shots, babe! Loosen up." Giggling, I balanced the silver tray—four crystal glasses brimming with sapphire liquid—navigating the throng toward their booth. One wrong step in these stilettos, and I'd be flat. Focus, Aria. But fate—or the devil—had other plans. A drunk suit lurched into my path, arm flailing. The tray tilted. Crash. Blue fire exploded across his chest, soaking his pristine white shirt, dripping down his lapels.Time froze. Those emerald eyes locked on mine, unblinking. "Clumsy little flame," he growled, voice low thunder rolling through the din. Luca Vitale. Up close, he was devastating—scars faint on his knuckles, cologne like smoked whiskey and danger. Panic surged. "I-I'm so sorry! Let me—"Gunshots cracked. Screams erupted. The club dissolved into pandemonium—bodies diving, glass shattering, men shouting orders. Bullets whizzed, rivals crashing the party. Luca's guards drew weapons, barking into earpieces. "Down!" someone yelled. I bolted, heels clacking, heart slamming against ribs. Lila vanished in the stampede. No time—duck under tables, weave through chaos. A side door loomed—staff corridor? VIP suites? Didn't matter. Hide.I slammed into a heavy door marked Private, tumbling into velvet darkness. Opulent suite: silk-draped walls, massive bed like a throne, bar glowing amber. Sanctuary. Chest heaving, I locked it, sinking against the frame. Safe. For now.The door rattled. "Open it, principessa. Or I break it down."His voice. Luca. No choice—twist the lock. He stormed in, massive frame filling the space, jacket torn, blood on his cuff—not his. Gun in hand, eyes blazing. "You. The spill. Hiding in my suite?""Y-your suite? I was just—chaos outside—""Chaos I handle." He holstered the weapon, advancing like a panther. Door locked behind him. Cornered. Six feet of muscle and menace between me and escape. Adrenaline crashed—fear, yes, but something hotter coiled low. His gaze raked me, raw hunger flashing. "Know who I am, little flame?""Luca Vitale. Mafia King." Whisper escaped. Slumberland's urban legend, whispered in boardrooms and back alleys. Daddy hated him—rival dealings, shadows on his empire.A smirk ghosted his lips. "Smart girl. And you drenched me in front of my men. Embarrassed the King." Closer now, heat radiating. I backed into silk sheets, pulse wild. "I'll... pay for the shirt. Dry cleaning. Anything."His laugh dark velvet. "Not money, amore. Pride." Hand shot out, gripping my chin—firm, electric. Tilted my face up. Breath mingled. "Apologize properly."Lips parted—words failed. Proximity ignited sparks. His thumb brushed my lower lip, rough against silk skin. "L-Luca...""Shh." Mouth crashed down. Fire. Demanding, devouring—tongue claiming, hands everywhere. Reason shattered. My fingers tangled his hair, pulling him closer. Wrong? Yes. Reckless? Utterly. But this was it—the epic. Body arched into him, dress hiking as he lifted me onto the bed. Growl vibrated: "Mine to ruin."Clothes vanished in frenzy—his shirt ripped open, scars mapping battles; my dress pooled red puddle. Virgin nerves flickered, but desire drowned them. His weight pinned, hot skin on mine. "First time?" Husky question amid kisses trailing fire down neck, collarbone."Y-yes." Breathless.Feral grin. "Honored, principessa." Slowed then—teasing, worshipping. Fingers explored velvet heat, drawing gasps. "Relax. Let me." Tension melted under expert touch—circles building ache to frenzy. Stars burst; first peak shattered me, cries muffled in his shoulder.Then him. Thick, insistent, pressing—stretch, burn, bliss. Inch by inch, eyes locked, sweat-slicked bodies merging. Pain bloomed sharp, faded to rhythm—deep thrusts syncing heartbeats. Hands clutched sheets, his back, nails digging. "Luca—God—" Waves built, coiling tighter. His pace quickened, grunts primal, lips bruising mine. World narrowed to friction, heat, union.Climax hit like lightning—convulsing, screaming his name. He followed, roar guttural, spilling hot inside. Collapsed together, tangled, panting. Afterglow hummed—sated, claimed.Reality crept. Dawn light filtered curtains. I stirred, sore deliciously, sheets crimson-flecked. His mark? Wait—hip throbbed. Glanced down: intricate rose tattoo, fresh ink, glowing faint. Branded.Luca watched, sated predator. "Morning, amore. Ravished and ruined."Panic surged. "What did you—what is this?" Finger traced ink—warm, pulsing like heartbeat."My claim." Leaned in, voice silk threat. "In our world, first blood seals fates. You're mine now—collateral against your father's debts."Debts? Daddy? Lies—no—"Let me go!""Tsk." Pinned wrist. "Run, and rivals hunt you. Stay, and live as queen." Kiss sealed it—possessive, promising empires and ecstasy. Door rattled—guards. Slumberland awaited, changed forever.Virgin regret? Vanished. New one: entangled in the Mafia King's web. The Enchantment, now his flame. Night changed everything.