02

•RAFFAELE MANCINI•

Hazel Santoro.

Brave—I’ll give her that. Barging into a room surrounded by men who’d kill for far less than her audacity. And then making demands? I haven’t decided if I’m amused or irritated.

I stare at the door she disappeared through, replaying our encounter. Her voice, steady but fragile. The way those full lips pressed into a hard line when she looked me in the eye. Those hips in the damn jeans with her movements bold and annoyingly distracting.

Who would’ve thought Alfonso Santoro’s bloodline would produce something like that?

The room is quiet now, the air still heavy with the tension she left behind. I glance around and find my men uncertain, their eyes flicking between me and each other.

“Let’s call it a night, meeting’s over. Get out.”

I stare at them impatiently as they begin to shuffle their way out of the room, their usual arrogance replaced with silent obedience. I sink into the chair, exhausted and ponder about the encounter with the rebellious little cat with fire in her eyes.

A low chuckle draws my attention. I lift my head and spot Dante leaning against the far wall, a knowing smirk on his face.

“You’re really creepy sometimes, you know that?” I grumble.

He laughs and strolls over, grabbing a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. “Creepy? Me? Fratellone, I could say the same about you. But at least I don’t pick my prey from the middle of a standoff.”

I accept the glass he pours and take a long, satisfying gulp, relishing the burn. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Dante sinks into the seat across from me, swirling the amber liquid in his glass as he gives me a sideways look. “You tell me, Don. That was quite unlike you, I expected a bullet to be lodged up between her eyes the moment she walked in, I saw you grab your gun, but you hesitated...then you talk about keeping her as a pet?"

He pauses, his smirk growing into an annoying grin. “Not that I’m complaining. She’s quite the looker. I mean she's got that amazing body, and that face? Damn. I didn’t know I had a thing for gingers until tonight. Maybe you could lend her to me for a while—”

“Watch it, Dante.” My voice drops to a dangerous edge, a little sharper than I intend. “Careful fratellino. Hazel Santoro is here because she offered herself as payment. What I do with her or how long I keep her alive really isn’t your concern.”

Dante raises his hands in mock surrender, though his smile doesn’t waver. “Easy there, fratellone. I’m just trying to be your voice of reason. Don’t forget what her father did. He stole from you, betrayed you. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree you know, be careful.”

I glare at him, loosening my tie as the irritation simmers. “There’s nothing to worry about. I’ll decide her fate. And I’ll start by finding out everything there is to know about her.”

Dante raises a brow, but I continue, my voice firm. “Bring me everything—her address, her history, the people she’s close to. Hell, down to the details of her favorite body wash. I need to be sure about her ties to Alfonso and her real motive.”

Dante downs the last of his whiskey, adjusts his suit jacket, and pushes to his feet. “Your wish is my command, Don. But just remember—you’re playing with fire.”

I wave him off, and he gives a light nod before disappearing out the door, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Hazel Santoro.

The name rolls through my mind, sticking there like a thorn. I’ve met hundreds—thousands—of people in my life, yet her face stays sharp in my memory. The slight tremor in her voice when she stood her ground, the way her hands curled into fists as though she was fighting not just me, but herself.

I saw the fear in her eyes, but more importantly, I saw something else: defiance. A fire that hadn’t been put out, even as she stood in the lion’s den. Most people in her shoes would’ve dropped to their knees and begged for their lives. She didn’t. She was afraid—I could feel it radiating off her in waves—but she didn’t cower.

That alone intrigued me.

But it also made me wary. My brother’s words echo in my head—The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Alfonso Santoro had been one of the few men who’d dared to betray me. He’d smiled in my face, shaking my hand as though he was loyal, then turned his back and stolen from me. It hadn’t ended well for him.

Hazel’s arrival feels too coincidental. Desperation or not, there’s something I can’t quite put my finger on yet.

I rise from the chair, pacing toward the window. Outside, the estate sprawls before me, the security lights throwing long shadows across the manicured grounds. Tomorrow, she’ll be here. Under my roof. My rules.

“What are you hiding, Hazel Santoro?” I murmur to myself.

I don’t trust coincidences. Never have.

I picture her again—those stubborn green eyes, the wild flame of her hair, the way she spoke my name like a curse. She’d been trembling, but her voice had steadied with every word, like she was building herself back up in real time.

I pour another drink, downing it in one go. There’s a dull hum in my chest—anticipation. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt anything but cold, ruthless purpose. Hazel Santoro brings something different to the table: unpredictability.

And that makes her dangerous.

But danger doesn’t scare me. It excites me.

The knock at the door pulls me out of my thoughts. Matteo steps inside, ever the picture of efficiency. “The guest wing on the east side is being prepared as you requested. Security will be doubled there starting tonight.”

“Good,” I say, staring out at the estate again. “She’ll arrive tomorrow on her own. I want her to see exactly what she’s walking into.”

“Yes, sir.” Matteo hesitates. “And her role here?”

I glance over my shoulder, smirking. “She’ll find out soon enough.”

Matteo nods and leaves me alone again. I return to my desk, leaning my hands on the polished surface as I stare at the faint reflection of my face in the glass.

Tomorrow will mark the start of something new. Whether Hazel Santoro knows it or not, she’s crossed a line she can’t step back from. She’s mine now—at least for the next year.

And I’m going to enjoy every moment of watching her fight against it.

I allow myself one last thought as I shut off the lights and leave the room.

Let’s see how long that fire lasts.