Mateo Bianchi leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping against the table in a slow, calculated rhythm. His sharp blue eyes flickered toward Emilia for a split second before settling on Piero.
"My son has made his choice," Mateo said, his voice smooth yet unwavering. "Alessandro wants Emilia."
Silence.
Emilia's nails dug into the fabric of her skirt beneath the table.
Piero's jaw tightened. "And if I refuse?"
Mateo's smirk was slow, deliberate. "Then you make an enemy of us."
Sofia Russo's lips pressed together, and her gaze cut sharply toward Adriana Bianchi, who, unlike her husband, was observing the situation quietly, her expression unreadable.
Emilia scoffed, crossing her legs. "You can't just 'decide' that I belong to your son."
Alessandro, who had been sitting silently beside his father, let out a dark chuckle. "You still don't get it, do you, dolcezza?" His voice was low, dripping with amusement. "This isn't a request. It's happening whether you like it or not."
Emilia turned to her father. "Papà, you're not actually considering this, are you?"
Piero exhaled through his nose, his gaze locking onto Mateo's. "You come into my home, demand my daughter, and threaten me in the same breath? Do you take me for a fool, Mateo?"
Mateo simply smiled. "Not a fool, no. But a man who knows when a war isn't worth fighting."
Piero smirked "Yes, but my daughter is worth a war if she demands it mateo".
Mateo's smirk didn't waver. "Is she?" He turned his gaze to Emilia. "Would you truly have your father spill blood over this, ragazza?"
Emilia leaned forward, eyes dark with defiance. "I don't need my father to fight my battles, Mateo. If your son wants me, he better be ready to bleed for it himself."
Alessandro let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Dio, you make this so much more fun, dolcezza."
Luciano, seated beside Alessandro, glanced between the two with mild amusement. "Careful, dude. You might actually fall for this one."
Alessandro didn't break eye contact with Emilia, a smirk playing at his lips. "Who says I haven't already?"
Piero leaned back, his expression unreadable. "You demand my daughter, and expect me to just hand her over?" His fingers drummed against the table, slow and deliberate. "You insult me, Mateo."
Mateo Bianchi remained unfazed. "I'm giving you an opportunity. The alliance between the Bianchi and Russo families would be unmatched. Your daughter marrying my son solidifies that power."
Sofia Russo's sharp gaze locked onto Adriana Bianchi. "And what does the mother of this 'groom' have to say?"
Adriana sighed, swirling the wine in her glass before setting it down untouched. "You know how stubborn our sons can be," she said evenly. "Once Alessandro sets his sights on something, he doesn't stop until he has it."
"He's not getting me," Emilia snapped.
Alessandro chuckled darkly. "We'll see about that, topolina."
Piero's eyes narrowed. "If my daughter refuses, this discussion is over."
Mateo's smile tightened, but it didn't fade. "Then I hope you understand the consequences."
The air turned suffocating. Silence, thick with tension, settled over the table.
Luciano exhaled heavily. "Alright, enough of this bullshit," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "We all know how this ends, so let's cut to the chase."
Emilia shot him a glare. "And how exactly does this end?"
Luciano smirked, nodding toward Alessandro. "With him getting what he wants."
Emilia clenched her jaw. "Over my dead body."
Alessandro leaned forward, his voice dangerously soft. "That can be arranged, topolina. But I'd rather have you breathing—preferably under me."
Piero slammed his fist against the table, making everyone go still. "Watch your fucking mouth, Alessandro."
Alessandro only grinned, unfazed. "With all due respect, Mr. Russo, your daughter will have to get used to my mouth."
Mateo sighed, but a flicker of amusement passed through his gaze. "Alessandro."
Emilia stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. "I am not a bargaining chip. This meeting is over."
She turned to leave, but before she could take a step, Alessandro grabbed her wrist, yanking her back hard enough that she nearly stumbled into his lap. His grip was bruising, his voice a dark whisper against her ear.
"Run all you want, little firecracker. I'll still catch you."
A dark chuckle escaped her lips, low and mocking. "Okay. I'm done acting all elegant and proper. You're a fucking asshole, and I don't want you. Get that through your thick skull," she spat, eyes blazing. "I'd rather live with madmen than spend a second with you."
Alessandro smirked, completely unfazed. "Yet here you are, fighting so hard against something that's already yours." His voice was smooth, dripping with confidence. "You've been mine all along, dolcezza."
Her fingers twitched. "Hmm."
Before anyone could react, Emilia reached for the table knife, gripping it tight as she pointed the sharp tip directly at his chest, inches from his heart.
"Then I want this carved out for me."
The entire room stilled. Chairs scraped as everyone around the table immediately stood, tension so thick it was suffocating.
Luciano cursed under his breath. "Shit."
Mateo's eyes darkened. "Emilia, put the knife down."
But she didn't even blink, her gaze locked onto Alessandro's.
Alessandro, to everyone's shock, grinned. Not a single hint of fear in his expression. In fact, he looked downright entertained.
"You're playing a dangerous game, little mouse," he murmured, leaning slightly forward, pressing his chest against the blade just enough for it to bite into his skin, a single drop of blood blooming through his crisp white shirt.
Emilia didn't flinch. "And you think I'm afraid?"
He chuckled darkly. "No. That's what makes this so fucking thrilling."
Piero clenched his jaw. "Emilia, enough."
Mateo sighed, rubbing his temples. "Adriana, I told you. Your son has a death wish."
Sofia's lips pressed into a thin line. "Alessandro, step away from my daughter before I put a bullet in you myself."
But Alessandro wasn't moving. If anything, he looked even more intrigued, his eyes burning into Emilia's.
"You want my heart, topolina?" He whispered, voice dripping with something dark, something dangerous. "Take it."
Her grip on the knife tightened. Her breathing was steady, her expression unreadable. Then—
She smirked.
And in a swift motion, she flipped the knife in her hand and pressed the handle against his chest instead.
"Keep it." She leaned in, voice just as taunting as his had been. "Because I'll never fucking want it."
She let the knife fall onto his lap, stepping back with a satisfied smirk as she turned on her heel and walked out of the dining hall.
Silence.
Then—
Luciano whistled low. "Damn. I think she just made you her bitch."
Alessandro chuckled, shaking his head as he stared at the knife in his lap.
"Oh no, Luciano," he murmured, his grin turning feral. "She just made things even more interesting."
Luciano exhaled sharply and dropped back into his chair, shaking his head. "You're fucking insane, Alessandro. You should be thanking the gods you still have a heart beating in your chest."
Alessandro smirked, slowly dragging his thumb over the fresh wound on his shirt, the crimson staining his skin. "She thinks she can walk away from me," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "Cute."
Mateo let out a slow, measured breath, glaring at his son. "Ale, you're making a mistake."
Alessandro finally looked up, his expression unreadable. "No, Father. I'm making sure she understands who she belongs to."
Piero slammed his fist onto the table, the sound echoing through the dining hall. "I warned you, Mateo. My daughter is worth a war if she demands it."
Mateo met Piero's glare head-on. "And I told you, I know when a war isn't worth fighting."
Adriana reached for Alessandro's arm, her grip firm. "Enough, Alessandro. If you truly want Emilia, then earn her. Not like this."
Alessandro's jaw ticked. His mother wasn't wrong, but that didn't mean he'd back off. "She already belongs to me," he murmured. "She just doesn't know it yet."
Sofia stood abruptly. "You are all out of your minds if you think my daughter will just fall into line. Emilia is not some pawn in your little mafia games."
Alessandro's lips curled into a slow smirk. "No," he admitted. "She's a queen."
And queens belonged to kings.
---
Russo Estate – Emilia's Room
Emilia paced the length of her bedroom, her hands clenched into fists.
That bastard. That smug, arrogant bastard.
She could still feel the ghost of his lips on hers, the way he'd kissed her like he was branding her. Her fingers itched for her gun.
Emilia's lips curled into a slow, dangerous smile.
"If Alessandro Bianchi wants war," she murmured, "I'll give him one."
---
Bianchi Estate – Alessandro's Bedroom
Luciano tossed a whiskey glass onto Alessandro's desk, watching as his best friend unbuttoned his blood-stained shirt like he hadn't just had a knife pointed at his heart.
"You're insane," Luciano muttered, flopping into a chair. "She's going to rip you apart, and I think you want that."
Alessandro chuckled, his gaze dark as he leaned back against the desk. "She's fire," he murmured. "And you know what they say about fire, Luciano?"
Luciano sighed. "That it burns?"
"That it's only dangerous if you don't know how to control it." Alessandro's smirk widened. "And I always take control."
Luciano took a sip of his drink, shaking his head. "You're playing with a wild animal, Ale. Be careful you don't get bitten."
Alessandro just smiled.
Because he wasn't worried about getting bitten.
He was going to make Emilia Russo his.
And when he did—
She wouldn't just bite.
She'd fucking beg.