The Velvet Room was everything Naela had imagined a shady bar would be dimly lit, with red velvet drapes and the smell of cheap cologne and desperation clinging to the air. The sound of low laughter and clinking glasses filled the space as Naela stepped inside, her heart pounding with unease.
She had followed Isabella without question, her stepsister's urgency outweighing her doubts. But now, as she scanned the smoky room for any sign of trouble, something felt deeply off.
"Where is he?" Naela asked, her voice strained.
"He's in the back," Isabella said smoothly, gesturing toward a door at the far end of the room. "Go ahead. I'll wait here."
Naela froze, suspicion prickling at her neck. "Wait you're not coming with me?"
"I'd only get in the way," Isabella said with a half-hearted shrug. Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "Just go. He's expecting you."
Naela hesitated. Her instincts screamed at her to turn back, to leave this place and never look back. But the thought of someone being in danger pushed her forward. With one last wary glance at Isabella, she made her way toward the door. The hallway beyond was narrow and poorly lit. Naela's footsteps echoed as she walked, each step feeling heavier than the last. She reached for the handle of the door at the end, her fingers trembling as she pushed it open.
The room was dark, save for the faint glow of a small lamp in the corner. Naela stepped inside, her heart pounding. "Hello?" she called out, her voice shaky.
Before she could take another step, a figure emerged from the shadows. She barely had time to react before a sharp prick stung her neck. Her vision blurred, and her legs gave way beneath her. The last thing she heard before the darkness consumed her was the sound of laughter.
When Naela awoke, the world was spinning. Her limbs felt heavy, her thoughts sluggish. She blinked slowly, trying to make sense of her surroundings. She was no longer in the bar. The room around her was grand, almost opulent. Velvet curtains hung over the windows, and a massive bed dominated the center of the room. The faint scent of cologne lingered in the air, mixing with the cold tang of the drugs still in her system.
Naela tried to sit up, but her body protested, her muscles weak and uncooperative. Panic surged as fragments of memory returned the bar, Isabella's lies, the needle.
Before she could fully process what had happened, the sound of movement caught her attention. She turned her head, her breath hitching as she saw him. He was standing by the window, his broad back to her, his silhouette bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. His posture was tense, his fists clenched at his sides. When he turned, his face was shadowed but unmistakable.
Naela froze, recognition dawning. Fabricio De Luca. The name alone was enough to make her blood run cold. Stories of his ruthlessness had circulated for years, painting him as a man with no mercy and no limits. And now, somehow, she was in his room.
He stepped closer, his piercing gray eyes locking onto hers. There was something predatory in his gaze, something that made her want to shrink back and disappear.
"Who are you?" His voice was low and dangerous, each word cutting through the fog in her mind.
"I… I don't know," Naela stammered, her voice trembling. "I mean, I don't know why I'm here. Someone someone brought me."
Fabricio's expression darkened, his jaw tightening as he studied her. "And you expect me to believe that?"
"It's the truth," she insisted, tears welling up in her eyes. "I don't even know who you are." The corner of his mouth twitched, a humorless smile playing on his lips. "You don't know me?" He stepped closer, the air between them growing heavy. "Then let me enlighten you."
Naela's heart raced as he leaned down, his face inches from hers. His scent citrus and smoke invaded her senses, making her dizzy.
"I'm the man people fear," he said softly, his voice like a blade. "The man they don't cross if they want to live."
"I don't want anything to do with you," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
"Good," he said, straightening. "Because whatever mess you're caught up in, you brought it into my room. And now, you're my problem."
Naela's mind raced, desperate for a way out. But before she could speak, the door burst open. One of Fabricio's men entered, his expression grim.
"Boss," he said, glancing at Naela briefly before addressing Fabricio. "We've got a problem downstairs. They're demanding to see you."
Fabricio swore under his breath, his gaze flicking back to Naela. "Stay here," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.
And then he was gone, leaving Naela alone in the silence of the room. She stared at the door, her chest heaving as the weight of her situation settled over her. She didn't know how she had ended up here or what Fabricio intended to do with her. But one thing was certain her life would never be the same again.