Ava seraphina Moreno knew better than to draw attention to herself.

For years, she had perfected the art of being invisible—keeping her head down, moving through life like a shadow. She had learned that staying unnoticed was the safest way to exist. But tonight, for reasons she couldn’t explain, she had let her guard slip.

And now, she felt him watching her.

The dim glow of the bar cast long shadows across the polished floor, the low hum of conversation blending with the clinking of glasses. The scent of whiskey, expensive perfume, and smoke lingered in the air. It was supposed to be a simple night out—a rare indulgence in an otherwise quiet existence.

But everything changed the moment he entered.

Luca Moretti.

A name spoken in whispers. A man wrapped in mystery and danger, his reputation as infamous as the empire he controlled.

She had never met him before. Never spoken his name aloud.

But he knew her.

She could feel it in the way his gaze burned into her from across the room. Dark, calculating. As if he had already decided something about her before she even realized he existed.

Ava forced herself to take a sip of her drink, feigning indifference. Her fingers tightened around the glass as she stared down at the amber liquid, willing herself to stay calm.

Ignore him. Walk away.

But the weight of his presence made it impossible.

She tried not to look, but some twisted part of her couldn’t help it. Slowly, cautiously, she lifted her gaze.

And her breath caught.

Luca was already moving toward her.

The crowd seemed to part effortlessly for him, as if the world itself bowed to his presence. He was tall, his frame powerful beneath the sharp cut of his black suit. Every movement was deliberate, controlled.

Predatory.

Ava’s heart pounded, an unfamiliar heat crawling up her spine.

He stopped just short of her, close enough that she could see the faint scar cutting through his left brow, the flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.

"Ava Sinclair," he murmured, his voice smooth as sin.

Her stomach twisted. "How do you know my name?"

Luca smiled—slow, dark. "Because I make it my business to know things."

His voice was quiet, edged with quiet authority. A warning wrapped in silk.

Ava’s fingers curled into fists beneath the table. Every instinct told her to leave, to escape before she got too close to something she wouldn’t be able to walk away from.

But she didn’t move.

Luca watched her, studying every flicker of emotion that crossed her face, every unsteady breath. He was too composed, too controlled.

Dangerous.

"You’ve been avoiding me," he said finally.

Ava frowned. "I don’t even know you."

Luca chuckled, the sound deep and knowing. "Not yet."

A shiver ran through her, unsteady and uninvited. "Whatever this is, I don’t want any part of it."

Luca leaned in slightly, his scent—spiced whiskey, leather, and something darker—wrapping around her like a whispered threat.

"That’s the problem," he murmured. "You say that… but you’re still here."

Her breath caught.

Luca Moretti didn’t chase. He didn’t ask. He took.

And the terrifying part?

Ava wasn’t sure she wanted to run.

please don't forget to like comments and votes

Ava’s hands were steady, but her heart wasn’t.

The night air clung to her skin as she walked, heels clicking against the pavement in an uneven rhythm. The neon glow of the city flickered against the wet asphalt, but she barely noticed. Her mind was still trapped in that bar, in the presence of him.

Luca Moretti.

She had made a mistake.

She never should have let him speak to her. Never should have looked into those cold, unreadable eyes.

Ava knew men like him—powerful, dangerous, used to getting what they wanted. And Luca? He wanted her.

But she couldn’t afford to be noticed.

She pulled her coat tighter around her, quickening her pace. Her apartment was only a few blocks away. If she could just make it inside, lock the door, and pretend tonight never happened—

"Ava."

Her entire body went cold.

The voice was deep, smooth. Familiar.

She turned slowly, pulse hammering against her ribs.

Luca stood in the shadows at the end of the alleyway, his suit pristine despite the grit of the city. He was too calm, too composed—like he had all the time in the world to wait for her to acknowledge him.

Ava swallowed hard. "Are you following me?"

Luca stepped forward, the movement slow, deliberate. "Would it scare you if I said yes?"

A shiver ran down her spine. "It should."

His lips curled slightly, a dark amusement flickering across his face. "But it doesn’t."

Ava hated that he was right.

She should be terrified. She was terrified. But beneath the fear was something else. Something far more dangerous.

Luca closed the distance between them, stopping just close enough that she could feel the warmth of his presence. "You left too quickly," he murmured. "We weren’t finished."

Ava took a step back, forcing space between them. "We have nothing to finish. You don’t know me."

"But I do." His voice was velvet, laced with something lethal. "I know you work at that little bookstore on Fifth. I know you don’t belong in places like that bar, but you went anyway. And I know you’re running from something."

Her breath hitched.

Luca tilted his head slightly, watching her. "What is it, Ava? What are you so desperate to escape?"

She clenched her jaw. "That’s none of your business."

Luca didn’t blink. "It is now."

Something inside her snapped.

"You don’t own me," she said, forcing steel into her voice. "You don’t control me, and you sure as hell don’t get to decide what is and isn’t your business."

Luca studied her for a long moment, and then—he smiled.

Slow. Amused.

Like he enjoyed this.

"Yet," he murmured.

Ava’s breath caught. "Excuse me?"

Luca stepped forward again, erasing the space she had created. His fingers lifted, barely grazing the edge of her coat, like he was testing how far he could go before she stopped him.

"You say I don’t own you," he said softly. "That I don’t control you. But tell me something, dolcezza." His fingers trailed the fabric, a whisper of a touch. "If I kissed you right now, would you stop me?"

Heat coiled low in her stomach, traitorous and unwelcome.

She should say yes.

She should push him away.

But her silence was answer enough.

Luca’s expression darkened, satisfaction flickering in his gaze. "I thought so."

Ava forced herself to move, to take a shaky step back. "This… whatever this is—it’s not happening."

Luca let her go, but his smirk remained. "Keep telling yourself that, Ava."

Her throat tightened.

"You should stay away from me," she whispered.

Luca chuckled. "I think we both know that’s not going to happen."

And the worst part?

Ava wasn’t sure she wanted it to.

Ava didn’t sleep that night.

Even after locking her apartment door, double-checking the windows, and curling beneath her sheets, her body refused to relax. Her mind replayed every word, every look, every electric moment she had spent in Luca Moretti’s presence.

She knew she should be afraid. Really afraid.

Luca wasn’t just any man. He was powerful. Dangerous. And, most of all, determined.

That was what scared her the most.

He had made it clear—Luca Moretti wasn’t the type to walk away.

Ava squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to breathe, to push his presence from her mind. She had spent years learning how to stay invisible, how to avoid men like him. One slip-up wouldn’t undo everything.

She would forget about him.

She had to.*

☾☾☾

The next morning, the city was a different creature—busy streets, impatient horns, people rushing from one place to another. The normalcy of it should have calmed her. Instead, it only heightened her paranoia.

She felt him.

She couldn’t see him, but she knew he was there.

Watching.

Waiting.

By the time she reached the small bookstore where she worked, her nerves were frayed. She stepped inside, the familiar scent of old paper and coffee wrapping around her like a shield. The bell above the door jingled softly, announcing her arrival.

"Ava, you look like you’ve seen a ghost," Claire, her coworker, teased from behind the counter.

Ava forced a smile. "Rough night."

Claire raised a brow. "That rough?"

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

Instead, she busied herself with a stack of books, pretending not to notice the way her hands trembled.

He wouldn’t come here, she told herself.

He wouldn’t cross into this part of my life.

But deep down, she knew better.

And she was right.

Because an hour later, the bell jingled again, and the air in the store shifted.

Slowly, Ava lifted her gaze.

Luca Moretti stood in the doorway.

Dark suit. Unbothered expression. Complete and utter confidence.

Like he belonged here.

Like he belonged everywhere.

Her stomach twisted.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear.

Luca took his time answering. He stepped inside, eyes scanning the small space as if assessing it, before landing back on her.

"You left before we finished our conversation."

Ava exhaled sharply. "There’s nothing left to say."

Luca’s lips curved. "I disagree."

Her pulse pounded as he closed the distance between them, slow and deliberate.

"You work here?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

Ava swallowed. "Luca—"

"You don’t belong in places like this," he murmured, his voice dipping lower. "You don’t belong in bars either. But you went, didn’t you?"

Ava clenched her jaw. "What do you want from me?"

Luca reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear—an intimate, possessive gesture. "Everything, dolcezza."

Her breath hitched.

"You don’t even know me," she whispered.

Luca’s expression darkened, his fingers tracing the edge of her jaw. "But I will."

Ava should have pulled away. Should have screamed, pushed him, done something.

But she stood frozen, trapped beneath the weight of him.

Luca leaned in, lips a breath away from hers. "Tell me to stop," he murmured.

She opened her mouth—

And nothing came out.

Because the terrifying truth was…

She didn’t want him to.