Chapter 1: The Five-Hundred-Dollar Kiss “Five hundred dollars. One kiss. That's all you have to do.”

The Grand Ballroom of the Bellini estate hummed with the sound of live classical strings, clinking champagne flutes, and low, guarded laughter. It looked like an ordinary gathering of high society, but every man here carried blood on his hands, and every woman wore jewelry bought with silence.

When the massive double doors swung open, the entire room went completely silent.

Nico walked in with me on his arm.

He held his head high, projecting an aura of terrifying calm that silenced the orchestra within seconds. I kept my chin up, matching his slow, deliberate stride, hiding the trembling in my knees beneath the sweeping train of my emerald dress. Every pair of eyes in the hall snapped toward us—shock, curiosity, and naked calculation rippling through the crowd.

"Don Moretti," a voice purred from the edge of the marble dance floor.

An older man with slicked-back silver hair and a crooked smile stepped forward, flanked by two bodyguards. He held a crystal glass of scotch. "We heard rumors that your docks had caught fire last night. Yet here you are, looking entirely unbothered."

"Don Salvatore," Nico answered smoothly, stopping a few feet away. "Rubbish burns easily. It saves me the trouble of cleaning house."

Salvatore’s eyes slid toward me, lingering hungrily on my face and the diamond choker around my neck. "And who is this exquisite flower? It’s unlike you to bring a stray to the Bellini table."

A collective murmur rippled through the onlookers.

Nico’s grip on my waist tightened subtly, an iron warning. "Choose your next words with absolute care, Salvatore. This is Hannah Bennett. And whatever you have to say to her, you say to me."

Salvatore’s crooked smile faltered slightly under Nico’s lethal glare. He raised his glass in mock surrender. "A thousand pardons. I only meant to say... the underworld is a treacherous place for innocent butterflies. Especially when old debts remain unpaid."

My stomach dropped. Salvatore wasn't just a neutral bystander; he was allied with Victor.

Before Nico could speak, the ballroom lights suddenly flickered once, twice, and plunged into pitch-black darkness.

Screams tore through the crowd. Glasses shattered against marble. The elegant music was replaced by chaos.

"Hannah!" Nico’s voice cut through the dark. His arm locked around my waist, pulling me behind his back before my eyes could even adjust to the shadows.