Ella's POV
You'll think my life is interesting but really it's not. Sure, I have a rich, popular boyfriend that every girl would die to have, a caring, lovely mother and a funny, overprotective brother. Dad? Well, he was the best thing that ever happened to me but I guess God needed him in heaven.
I'm an interesting girl for sure. I'm simple actually. Beautiful, tall, caramel skinned and a slender body with curves and a nice, round bum.
Why ain't I happy?
I don't know, sometimes I feel empty, like there's a hole in me waiting to be filled with something that belongs.
I can't really describe the feeling but I want some danger in my life, something thrilling. Something that would make me...feel.
Cole, my boyfriend, he's the son of Xander La Russo. The richest man in the world. He's a businessman and owns like a billion companies. He's good looking also, single for whatever reason, I still don't get why he's still single, I mean all woman through themselves at him.
I've never seen him, no one has excluding the ones that saw him with their naked eyes. Rumour has it he's not just a businessman but also the Don of some sort of mafia.
How's that even possible, Mafia's don't exist right?
It was raining outside and mom was in Japan, fighting some case. She's a lawyer. I was home alone, like always. I was reading a book with a coffee in hand. I wish my life was like the books I read. I wish I was the female characters.
I clenched my thighs together as the book started to get heated.
The scene in the book had shifted, the male lead's hand brushing the heroine's cheek, the unspoken electricity between them heavy enough to almost feel through the page. I swallowed hard, my throat tight for no reason other than the fact that it was…intoxicating.
I pressed my thighs together. Not intentionally, or maybe it was. The blanket slid a little, the cool air from the window brushing over my skin.
God. Why did fictional men feel so much more real than the ones I actually knew?
Cole… He was perfect in the way everyone wanted him to be. Handsome, polite, the boy who could give you everything, but I couldn't remember the last time I felt my pulse race around him. The last time he made me feel like I couldn't breathe.
Danger.
That's what I wanted. The kind that made my stomach twist, that made my skin feel too tight for my body. Something raw and unpolished, something that didn't fit neatly into my life like Cole did.
I took a slow sip of coffee, staring out at the rain-slick streets. Somewhere out there, people were moving, living, touching a kind of reality I'd never been close to. My world felt…safe. Too safe.
The heroine in the book was now pressed against a wall, the man's voice a low growl in her ear. My fingers tightened around the pages. I didn't even notice I was holding my breath until I let it go in a rush.
I shifted in my seat, my mind already wandering, replacing her with me. My lips parted just slightly at the thought, my skin heating in a way that made me ashamed and thrilled all at once.
I closed the book for a moment and leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
Why did it feel like my life was waiting for something…someone…to come in and turn it upside down?
The book lay face-down on the coffee table, my finger still marking the page. I told myself I'd come back to it later, but the truth was I needed a break from it, from the way it made my chest ache and my mind wander into places it shouldn't.
The rain outside had softened into a mist, the air holding that clean, sharp smell that only came after a good downpour. My stomach grumbled, pulling me back to reality. I hadn't eaten since lunch.
I stretched out my legs and padded into the kitchen, the warmth of the blanket falling away. The house was too big when I was alone, every sound echoing, the hum of the fridge suddenly loud enough to feel like company.
I opened the fridge and stood there longer than necessary, letting the cool air brush against my skin. Leftover pasta. Eggs. Vegetables. Cheese. Nothing fancy, but then again, I didn't need fancy tonight. I grabbed what I wanted and set it all on the counter.
The Bluetooth speaker on the shelf caught my eye.
A slow smile tugged at my lips.
Music always made the loneliness feel less…loud.
I scrolled through my phone until I found the playlist I wanted, a mix of old R&B, soulful tracks that had the kind of rhythm you could feel deep in your bones. The opening notes filled the kitchen, smooth and heavy, wrapping around me like silk.
I swayed without thinking, hips moving to the beat as I chopped vegetables. The knife made a soft rhythm of its own against the cutting board, syncing with the bassline.
It wasn't just cooking anymore, it was a performance, even if my only audience was the empty kitchen and the storm outside.
I started singing along under my breath, then louder when I was sure no one could hear. My voice wasn't perfect, but the song didn't need perfect, it needed feeling.
I spun around, tossing chopped peppers into the pan with a flick of my wrist, the sizzle answering me like applause.
By the time I added the pasta and sauce, my hips were rolling to the beat, my fingers trailing up my sides in time with the music.
The blanket had been replaced by the soft cotton of my oversized T-shirt and the cling of shorts that rode up when I moved. Every sway, every little step across the tiled floor was for me. No one else.
For a moment, I imagined there was someone watching.
Someone leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes following every curve, every shift of my body. Someone whose gaze made my skin feel hotter than the steam rising from the pan.
I smirked at my own thoughts, flipping my hair back as if I really was performing.
The music swelled, my voice blending with it, the smell of garlic and tomato sauce filling the air. I twirled once, spoon in hand, and caught sight of my reflection in the darkened kitchen window, a blur of movement and curves.
When the pasta was done, I plated it neatly, drizzling a little olive oil over the top and adding a sprinkle of cheese. Not that it mattered, I was eating alone, but I liked the way it looked. Pretty food made me feel like I had my life together, even if it was just for one meal.
I carried the plate to the table, still humming, my bare feet padding softly against the hardwood.
Dinner was quiet except for the low music, each bite warm and comforting. My thoughts wandered again, not to Cole, but to the faceless someone I kept imagining. The stranger whose presence I could almost feel in the corners of my mind.
By the time I rinsed my plate and left it in the sink, the playlist had shifted to slower songs. Darker, heavier beats.
I let them guide me down the hall, the sound of rain faint against the windows.
The bathroom was warm when I stepped in, the faint scent of my lavender soap lingering from the last time I'd showered. I closed the door, shutting out the rest of the house, and turned the water on.
Steam filled the air almost immediately, curling around me, making my skin damp before I'd even stepped inside.
I peeled off my shirt slowly, the cotton sliding up over my ribs. My shorts followed, pooling on the tiled floor. For a moment I just stood there in the warm mist, letting it cling to my skin, the mirror already fogging up.
The water was perfect, hot enough to make me shiver when it first hit, then melting away the tension in my shoulders. I tipped my head back, closing my eyes, letting the stream run over my hair, my face, down the length of me.
It felt indulgent, almost sinful, how good it was to be alone like this. No rush. No one waiting.
I took my time, lathering my skin until it was slick and scented with lavender. The water traced every curve, every dip of my body, and I let myself imagine those hands again, the stranger's hands, instead of my own.
When I rinsed off, the bathroom was so thick with steam it felt like another world.
I stepped out, wrapping a towel around myself, the soft fabric soaking up the last of the water. My hair clung to my shoulders, damp and curling at the ends.
In the mirror, I caught sight of my flushed cheeks, the slight daze in my eyes.
God, I looked like a woman who'd been kissed breathless.
I laughed softly to myself and padded to my bedroom, the towel still snug around me.
The rain had picked up again, tapping against the windows like impatient fingers. I liked it, the sound was soothing, like the city's heartbeat just outside my room.
I pulled on a loose satin camisole and matching shorts, the fabric cool and slippery against my clean skin. Crawling into bed, I tucked the blankets up to my chin, my body sinking into the familiar comfort of the mattress.
The house was quiet again, the music long since turned off.
I reached for my book on the nightstand, but my hand hesitated halfway. The thought of picking up where I'd left off made my stomach flutter, but in the stillness of my room, it also felt…dangerous.
Instead, I lay back and stared at the ceiling, listening to the rain.
It was ridiculous, but I had the strangest feeling, like the world outside wasn't as far away as it felt earlier. Like something was coming.
I didn't know if it was the book, the music, or the wine-like haze the hot shower left behind, but I felt it deep in my bones.
Something, or someone, was going to change everything.
And I couldn't tell if that thought made me want to hide under the covers…or throw the door wide open.
I woke to light, soft, golden threads slipping between the sheer curtains and spilling across my face. For a second, I didn't move, just let myself feel it. The weight of the blanket around me, the faint coolness of the morning air on my shoulders, the way the rain smell still lingered even though the sky was now clear.
My hair was a mess, warm against my cheek, and my body still felt heavy from the heat of last night's shower. I rolled onto my back, stretching until my toes curled under the covers.
The house was quiet, too quiet, but I was used to that. Mom wouldn't be back from Japan for another week. My brother was probably sleeping at his friend's place. It was just me.
I thought about the dream I'd had. I couldn't remember the details, but I knew there had been a man in it, not Cole, but someone else. Taller, broader, his presence dark and thrilling. I'd woken with my heart beating faster than it should have.
I shook the thought off. It was too early for that kind of daydream.
Dragging myself out of bed, I padded toward the kitchen, my satin shorts brushing against my thighs, my oversized T-shirt sliding off one shoulder. The floor was cool under my bare feet.
I was halfway through making coffee when my phone rang.
The screen lit up with Cole ❤️.
A smile tugged at my lips before I even answered.
"Good morning," I said, my voice still soft from sleep.
"Mmm," his voice came through low and warm, like velvet. "That sounded like you just woke up."
I laughed quietly, tucking the phone between my ear and shoulder as I poured hot water into my cup. "Maybe I did."
"Lucky me," he teased. "I get the unfiltered, just-out-of-bed version of you. How do you look right now?"
I rolled my eyes even though he couldn't see me. "Like someone who's about to hang up if you start fishing for details."
"I'm not fishing," he said, clearly grinning. "Just… imagining. And you know I'm good at that."
I bit my lip, because he was good at that at slipping under my skin with just his voice.
"What are you doing up this early?" I asked, settling into a chair with my coffee.
"I've been up for hours. Meetings, the usual. But…" He paused, and I could almost hear him leaning back in his chair. "I've been thinking about you."
I sipped my coffee slowly, hiding the way my stomach flipped. "Thinking about me how?"
"Don't tempt me, Ella." His tone dropped just enough to make my pulse quicken. "But actually, I called for a reason."
"Mm-hmm?"
"I want you to meet my family."
I froze, my cup halfway to my lips. "Your… family?"
"Yes," he said simply, like it was the most casual thing in the world. "We've been together for months now. I think it's time."
I set the cup down, suddenly aware of how quiet the house was again. Meeting a boyfriend's family was one thing. Meeting Cole's family…
"Cole," I said carefully, "your family is… intimidating."
He chuckled low, the kind of sound that told me he found my hesitation amusing. "You haven't even met them yet."
"I don't have to. Everyone talks about them. Your dad especially. The mysterious Xander La Russo? Half the city swears he's untouchable."
"Mm. That's one word for him."
The way he said it made me pause. There was something in his voice I couldn't quite read, fondness, maybe, but something sharper too.
"Don't tell me you're nervous," he teased.
"I'm not nervous," I lied.
He hummed, like he didn't believe me for a second. "You'll be fine. They'll love you. My
sister will probably steal your clothes, and my dad…" He trailed off, his tone shifting again. "…my dad will test you."
I frowned. "Test me?"
"Don't worry about it."
"Cole—"
"Ella." His voice was warm again, coaxing.
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
"So," he continued, "will you come? Tonight. Dinner at my father's estate."
"Tonight?" I almost choked. "That's… sudden."
"I'm not giving you time to overthink it. You'll talk yourself out of it if I do."
I bit my lip, staring at the steam curling from my coffee. He wasn't wrong.
"Ella," his voice softened, "trust me. I'll be there the whole time. And I want them to see what I see."
I closed my eyes. "And what's that?"
He didn't hesitate. "A woman who belongs anywhere she chooses to be."
God, he was good with words.
I let out a slow breath. "Fine. I'll come."
"Good," he said, sounding far too pleased with himself. "Wear something that makes you feel powerful."
"Powerful?" I echoed.
"Mhm. And maybe a little dangerous."
I laughed despite myself. "You're ridiculous."
"You love it," he said, and I could hear the smirk in his voice. "I'll pick you up at seven."
Before I could respond, he hung up.
I sat there for a moment, staring at the phone, my heart still beating a little too fast.
Danger.
That's what I'd wanted. But now that it was coming for me, I wasn't sure if I was ready.
The call ended, but the echo of Cole's voice lingered in my ears. "Wear something powerful. And maybe a little dangerous."
Easier said than done.
I finished my coffee slowly, as if that would buy me time. But every sip felt heavier now, my mind running ahead to tonight, to the estate, the strangers who would suddenly no longer be strangers, the man at the center of all of it: Xander La Russo.
Rumors about him weren't just stories; they were urban legends. A businessman with more power than anyone could measure, but also… something else. Dangerous, in the way that made people lower their voices when they spoke his name.
And I was supposed to sit across a table from him. Smile. Hold a conversation. Not look like I was wondering if any of those mafia rumors were true.
I set my cup in the sink and pressed my palms to the counter, taking a deep breath.
It was only dinner. People met their boyfriend's families all the time.
But then again, most boyfriends' fathers weren't… him.
---
The day stretched in front of me like an unpainted canvas. I tried to distract myself folding laundry, wiping down the counters, scrolling through my phone, but every mundane task was tinted with the knowledge that tonight was coming.
Around noon, I finally gave in to the inevitable and pulled my wardrobe open.
Cole's words replayed in my head: "Wear something that makes you feel powerful… and maybe a little dangerous."
I stood there staring at my clothes, already feeling like nothing in my closet fit the assignment until my gaze landed on the far end of the rack.
The dress.
It was pure white, fitted like it had been sewn on the body, the bodice cut to cradle and lift, with delicate straps barely holding it in place.
Silver beading traced over the fabric in sharp, glimmering patterns that caught the light even in the dimness of my room. The slit high, unapologetic, promised that every step would be a statement.
I had bought it on a whim months ago, telling myself I'd wear it someday. Maybe this was the day.
I ran my fingers over the fabric, cool and smooth under my touch. It didn't just look dangerous it was. Wearing this meant stepping into a version of myself I wasn't sure I'd shown Cole yet.
Decision made, I hung it neatly and set it aside.
---
By mid-afternoon, my nerves were simmering under my skin. I put on music low, slow beats to fill the silence while I moved around the kitchen, slicing fruit for a snack.
The "test" Cole mentioned replayed in my head again and again. What would his father want to test me on? My manners? My loyalty? My ability to sit still under pressure?
I shook it off and went to run a bath.
The water steamed up the room, curling around me as I slid in, the heat easing the tightness in my shoulders. Lavender salts dissolved into the water, filling the air with calm.
For a few minutes, I just closed my eyes and breathed. But no matter how much I tried to empty my head, flashes of tonight kept pushing through the long dining table, crystal glasses, eyes assessing me in silence.
---
By five, I was sitting at my vanity, hair wrapped in a towel, face bare.
I went slowly with my makeup, layering everything with precision.
A luminous base that made my skin look lit from within. Subtle contouring to sharpen my cheekbones. A soft shimmer of silver and champagne tones on my eyelids to echo the beadwork of the dress. A flick of eyeliner, black and decisive.
When I reached for lipstick, I paused between a nude and a deep red. Nude was safe. Red was… dangerous.
I chose the red.
---
The dress slid over my skin like liquid ice, the satin cool at first, then warming as it settled against me. The bodice hugged my curves like it had been molded for me, the beading catching the light with every shift.
The slit revealed just enough with each step to make me hyper-aware of my legs, the smooth glide of skin against fabric. It was the kind of dress that didn't just invite attention it demanded it.
Silver drop earrings. A slim diamond bracelet. White stilettos with thin straps that wrapped around my ankles.
When I looked in the mirror, the woman staring back at me didn't look nervous. She looked like she belonged in whatever room she chose to walk into.
---
At 6:58, the sound of tires on the driveway made my pulse jump.
I walked to the door, the slit of my dress parting with each step, the hem whispering against my heels. I checked my lipstick once more in the hall mirror before opening it.
Cole stood there.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. His gaze traveled slowly from my face, down the curve of my body, over the slit that showed the length of my leg, then back up again.
"Dangerous," he said finally, voice low and certain. "Exactly what I had in mind."
I smiled faintly, though my pulse was pounding. "You're late."
"It's 7:00 exactly."
"That's late in my book."
"Then I'll make it up to you." He held out his hand.
I took it, feeling the heat of his palm wrap around mine as he led me toward the sleek black car idling in the driveway.
The night air was cool, carrying the faint scent of rain and the unshakable sense that I was walking toward something I wouldn't come back from unchanged.
The moment the door closed behind me, I realized…
There was no going back.
Tonight, I would meet the La Russos.
And I had no idea what that would mean for me.