I'm glad you love it! Now, let's start drafting Chapter 1 with a powerful opening that sets the tone for Leonardo and Isabella's tension-filled journey.
Chapter 1: The Alpha Heir & the Unwelcome News
The sound of glasses clinking and low murmurs filled the grand dining hall of the De Luca estate. The chandelier above cast a golden glow over the polished mahogany table, where Leonardo De Luca sat at the head, his jaw clenched, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the wood. His father, Alessandro De Luca, sat across from him, swirling a glass of whiskey.
Leonardo had been called here under the pretense of "urgent family business," but the moment his father spoke, he felt his entire world shift.
"I'm getting married."
The words hung in the air like a death sentence.
Leonardo's cold, calculating gaze remained steady. "You're joking."
"I wouldn't joke about something like this," Alessandro replied smoothly, setting his glass down. "Elena Russo and I have been seeing each other for a while. It's time I settle down again."
Leonardo resisted the urge to scoff. "Settle down?" He leaned forward, his voice dark. "You're the head of the most feared mafia family in Italy, and you think playing house is a priority?"
Alessandro sighed, as if speaking to an impatient child. "You, of all people, should understand the value of alliances, Leo. Elena comes from a powerful family, and our marriage strengthens our position."
Leonardo's stomach twisted. It was always about power, alliances, control—never about love. Not that he cared.
"And there's more," his father continued, his gaze sharpening. "Elena has a daughter."
Silence.
Leonardo's fingers froze mid-tap. "A daughter?"
"Yes. Isabella Russo. She'll be moving in with us."
Leonardo let out a slow exhale, his wolf stirring beneath his skin—a reaction he didn't quite understand. Something about this felt... off.
He didn't care about his father's new wife. But Isabella?
A stranger. A woman he would have to tolerate in his space.
His father must have seen the flicker of irritation in his expression. "She's none of your concern," Alessandro warned. "But I expect you to be civil."
Leonardo smirked. Civility wasn't his style.
That evening, Leonardo stood by the grand balcony overlooking the estate grounds. His men were stationed below, handling business as usual, but his focus was elsewhere.
The sound of a car pulling up drew his attention. A sleek black sedan rolled into the driveway. The driver stepped out first, opening the door for a woman.
Leonardo's eyes narrowed.
She stepped out slowly, confidently.
Isabella Russo.
Dark waves of hair cascaded over her shoulders, and despite the chilly night, she wore a fitted black dress that hugged her curves like sin itself. When she lifted her gaze, their eyes met—sharp, unreadable, but defiant.
Leonardo expected her to look away. To lower her gaze like everyone else did in his presence.
She didn't.
Instead, her lips curved into the faintest, most infuriating smirk.
Leonardo's grip on the balcony railing tightened.
This was going to be a problem.