The boardroom air hung thick with cigar smoke and shattered trust, sunlight piercing floor-to-ceiling windows to spotlight the betrayal etched on every face. I stood trembling in the doorway, my emerald gown from last night's gala now wrinkled and telling, the rose tattoo on my hip pulsing like a live wire under the fabric. Christ Moretti—my father, the titan of Slumberland's legitimate empire—extended a hand to Luca Vitale, their grip firm as old allies, not enemies. Luca's piercing green eyes found mine instantly, a smirk playing on his lips that said *mine* louder than words. "Aria," Daddy said, voice tight but controlled. "Sit. Vitale's investment saved us."
*Saved us?* The words ignited fury. I stormed to the table, palms slamming polished oak, scattering loan documents that screamed twenty million in black ink. Shana—my mother—hovered by the sideboard, clutching her pearls like a lifeline, her Botox-perfect face creased with worry. "Darling, please—this is business—"
"Buisness?" My voice cracked, raw from Luca's penthouse cries. "This *man* cornered me during a shooting, branded me like property, and you're shaking his hand? Over *debts*?" I yanked my gown aside just enough—flashing the thorny rose tattoo, its veins faintly glowing. Gasps rippled. Daddy's face drained color; Shana averted eyes.
Luca leaned back in his leather chair, tie loose, sleeves rolled to reveal scarred forearms. "Collateral, Moretti. Your harbor deal tanked—my cash plugged the hole. Aria's... perfect security." His gaze raked me, heat flashing promise of last night's ecstasy. Butterflies—traitorous—fluttered low.
Christ rubbed his temples, empire cracking. "Aria, market crash hit hard. Vitale's terms include protection. For all of us." Protection. Luca's hands pinning me, mouth devouring. I spun on him: "Remove it. This *thing*."
He rose slow, towering, closing the gap. Fingers captured my wrist, thumb circling pulse—electric. "Rose of Vitale chooses pure blood. Cut it, you bleed out power." Leaned in, breath hot on my ear: "Or embrace the queen's fire, amore." Shiver betrayed me.
Shana coughed. "Meeting adjourned." Daddy waved security in. Luca's parting wink burned; I fled to my Ferrari, peeling out into Slumberland's neon arteries, heart thundering. Home wasn't sanctuary anymore—mansion swarmed with new guards, ex-mercs scanning horizons like hawks. My suite: gilded prison, canopy bed haunted by silk-sheet memories.
Stripped under vanity lights, mirror mocked—bruises like love bites on neck, breasts, thighs; rose bolder, petals unfurling. Traced it; heat surged, visions flashing: Luca's growls, shattering peaks. *No.* Scalding shower scrubbed skin raw, but mark laughed—permanent claim. Phone detonated: Lila (*Shooting survivor queen! Hot mafia bf rumors?*), socialites (*Tabloid gold!*), burners (*Vitale whore*). Blurry gala pics trended: me vanishing with him.
Midday escape: Mommy's fashion launch at Crystal Tower. Emerald velvet armor—his eyes' color, diamonds defiant. Guards tailed limo; red carpet frenzy: "Aria Moretti! Spill the Vitale drama!" Inside: crystal flutes, air-kisses, Slumberland elite glittering. Lila pounced: "Babe! Mafia King? Spill!"
"Nothing." Lie tasted bitter. Balcony gaze snagged *him*—tux lethal, lieutenants flanking. Descended stairs like throne approach. "Enchantment graces the tower." Voice velvet menace. Lila melted; I iced. "Stalking my mother's event?"
"Investor." Nodded Shana onstage, runway alive. Dance floor beckoned—waltz under chandeliers. Hand offered. "Dance."
Scene? Took it—palm sparked, waist gripped possessive. Spun close, bodies syncing sin. "Daddy knows *everything*?" Breath ragged.
"Some secrets ours." Lips grazed neck; thighs clenched. "Feel the Rose? Hungers." Arched traitor-close, scent dizzying.
Gunshots shattered crystal song. Screams. Chandeliers exploded; guests dove under tables. Luca whirled, shielding—Glock fluid draw. "Rossi! Down!" Bullets ricocheted; his crew fired back. Champagne pooled blood-like. Dragged me backstage shadows, Shana huddled. "Stay hidden," growled, kiss bruising claim. Vanished into fray.
Heart raced—not fear alone, craving his victory roar. Sirens neared; guards extracted us. Daddy's limo convoy armored home.
Night choked heavy. Text burned: *Penthouse. Midnight. Rossi targets family next. Rose calls.* Defiance? Deathwish. Slipped guards via trellis—third night to him. Uber ghosted; Vitale Tower pierced clouds.
Elevator hummed to war room: Luca paced, blood-flecked shirt, maps sprawled. Men reported: "East Docks hit. Rossi baiting." His eyes lit—relief, hunger. "Foolish flame."
"Truth. Now." Arms crossed.
Dismissed crew. Whiskey poured. "Prophecy: Vitale Rose blooms on virgin queen-heir. Yours did—first blood mine. Rossi craves it, break line." Fingers grazed tattoo; gasped, slick heat pooling. Mouth claimed neck, teeth marking twin rose. "Luca—exposed?"
"Our tower." Gown unzipped; velvet sea. Bra freed; tongue swirled peaks stiff. Arched, fisting hair. Fingers delved panties—slick welcome. "So wet for king." Circles maddened; thighs quaked. Peaks ripped screams—two, boneless.
"Your worship." Pushed sofa; knelt eager. Velvet steel throbbed; licked base, salty power. Groans fueled—deeper, gagging soft. Hands guided; "Angel mouth—fuck." Control snapped; tossed sheets.
Straddled sinking full—deeper angle, bliss stretch. Rode waves, nails scarring chest. Thrusts met frenzy; "Queen—mine!" Mutual shatter—cries echoing.
Held afterglow. "Stay."
Dawn risky. "Train me. Empire."
Morning: tower gym, mats sweat-slick. Shirtless Luca taught holds—bodies grapple electric. Pinned under: "Yield?"
"Never." Flipped straddling triumph. Laughter real—bond beyond flesh.
Lunch terrace: city bowed. Stories spilled—his street orphan rise, grandma's rose lore; my pampered void. Deeper.
Afternoon alarm: Lila kidnapped. Rossi bait. Luca mobilized; I demanded: "I go."
Docks warehouse reeked rust, waves menace. Flanked shadows; plan: breach. Gunfire; Lila bound, goon leering. Luca stormed—bodies dropped. Saved her; fireman carry out.
Tower safe: Lila hugged. "Your man? Lethal hot." Tension laughed off.
Night intimate—missionary slow, eyes locked. "Love you," slipped unbidden. His smile: "Rose knew first."
Week blurred: gun training (recoil bruised but empowered), hidden bistros (stolen kisses), nightly peaks. Daddy confronted: "Seeing Vitale?" Lied; guilt festered.
Friday summit: Rossi yacht truce. Luca wary: "Dockside."
Defiance burned. Tailed boat. Deal soured—shots bay-echoed. Hull-clung; overheard: Rossi, "Moretti girl—Rose key. Her, truce."
Luca roared near-betrayed. Heart seized—protect. Surfaced yell distraction. Chaos: guards spun; Luca dropped lieutenant. Summit saved.
Aboard dripping: "Mad queen!" Salt-spray kiss fierce. Champagne victory; belowdecks carnal—porthole pressed, ocean-thrusts, cries wave-masked.
Dock return: Daddy thunderous. "Knew. Ends."
Luca: "Chosen. Protected."
Standoff. Rose loyal-pulsed. "My choice, Daddy."
Christ broke: "Lost daughter."
Slumberland throne claimed. Enchantment queen.
Shadows lurked: prophecy depths? Lila's odd glance? Debts darker?
Thorns drew blood; roses eternal bloomed.