The Mafia's Playdoll.

ARIA’S POV

They say diamonds are a girl’s best friend. But tonight, mine felt like a leash. Cold, shimmering restraints circling my throat and collarbones like a noose disguised in Cartier.

My father’s penthouse sparkled with blood money and false civility, drenched in the scent of aged champagne and power. Everything shimmered; too golden, too rich, too perfect. But beneath the chandeliers and silk-covered tables lurked something feral. Hunger, ownership and negotiation. I stood in the center of it all, not as a woman, not even as a daughter. But as currency.

“Smile, Aria.” My father’s voice slithered through clenched teeth, his fingers tightening around my waist like he could mold me into obedience with sheer pressure. “You’re representing the De Luca name tonight.”

On hearing that, I smiled at him, flawless and lifeless. The same one I had been practicing since I was thirteen and learned that being born into power didn’t mean I had any. I was dressed in a blood-red silk gown slit to my upper thigh, with no bra and no underwear. The design was strategic, easy to remove, easy to access and easy to claim.

This wasn’t just a gala; it was an offering, a sale masked as tradition and guess what? I was the prize and yes, you heard me well.

Heels clicked and murmurs swelled as mafia royalty floated past in tailored suits and evening gowns, whispering under their breath. Dons, heirs and assassins are the people in this room who didn't walk, but they prowled. Everyone’s eyes were watching me, judging me and estimating my value. Every smile was a negotiation and every compliment a price tag.

My future had already been signed, sealed, and promised to a name that reeked of old money and cruelty: Luca Romano. The man my father wanted to merge empires with. The man I was supposed to marry by month’s end.

And there he was, leaning against the bar with a glass of something expensive, dressed in a navy suit so sharp it looked like it could draw blood. His gaze tracked me like a hawk watching its prey. When his eyes landed on mine, they didn’t blink. They devoured it.

It was more than a glance; it was a violation, a calculated and undressing assessment. He was mentally stripping the gown from my skin, folding my limbs to his liking and breaking me in behind locked doors with the same patience he’d show breaking a new stallion.

He looked like a gentleman. Handsome, polished and surgically precise in appearance. But his smile never reached his eyes. And those eyes… they were void, empty and dead.

He was a man who didn’t make love; he conquered and controlled. And I hated him for it.

I forced myself to turn away, to breathe past the pulse thundering behind my ears. But even as I blinked him out of view, something... shifted. A new energy rippled through the room like a shadow swallowing light.

I felt it before I saw it.

My eyes were drawn to the far side of the room where the crowd had unconsciously parted. A man stood near the marble bar, silent, unmoving, untouched by the glitter and noise around him.

Black suit, no tie, broad chest, one hand tucked casually in his pocket and the other curled around a tumbler of dark liquor. He didn’t mingle, glance around, or even drink. He only sat there and watched the whole time.

The moment our eyes met, my breath snagged in my chest. His stare didn’t just look, but it invaded. Like he had already decided I was his and was waiting for the rest of the world to catch up. Possession burned in his gaze, not just curiosity nor lust, but all I saw was claim. “Who is that?” I whispered to Dahlia beside me, my voice barely moving. She followed my line of sight and frowned. “Never seen him before; he’s not your father’s usual circle.”

He stood alone, unmoved, yet somehow more powerful than the entire room, a king without a crown. Violence, perfectly tailored, his presence wasn’t loud, but it was absolute.

And even though I didn’t know his name, my body reacted like it did. My thighs were betraying me and pressing together, while my skin tingled and my breath shortened. I looked away, cheeks flushed and chest too tight. He hadn’t even touched me and I already felt owned.

Just then, I saw Luca approaching me with a glass of champagne in hand, each step slow and deliberate, the crowd parting for him like he was something holy, untouchable and worshiped a god in a room full of obedient sheep.

He was beside me now, his smile a blade wrapped in velvet and he pressed a glass of champagne into my hand. He leaned in and kissed my cheek. His fingers trailed low across the bare skin of my back, deliberately intimate.

“My queen,” he said, his voice slick and poisonous.

“You look fucking sinful tonight,” he murmured, his breath hot against my skin. “Almost a shame I’ll be the only one to ruin you.”

I stiffened, swallowing the nausea rising in my throat. But I smiled, picture-perfect, for the cameras trained on us from every direction. “You’ll have to catch me first,” I replied, sweetly venomous.

He laughed, quiet and confident. “That’s what makes it twice as fucking fun.”

He extended his arm like the gentleman he pretended to be and also with the confidence of a man who thought I had already surrendered and I took it not because I wanted to.

But because in a room full of wolves, I had to play the pretty, obedient lamb just a little while longer. Power in this world was an illusion until it wasn’t.

As we danced, I moved like a doll, graceful, obedient, and silent. Luca’s hand settled low on my back, his palm hot through the silk. His grip tightened slightly, as if reminding me whose property I was about to become. But I wasn’t prey and not just anymore.

The music swelled as we glided across the ballroom floor. My body followed Luca’s lead, graceful and obedient.

“You are tense,” he whispered.

“I wonder why.”

He chuckled, low and dangerous. “You will learn to like it, Aria. I can be very... persuasive.”I gritted a fake smile and silently tallied seconds until the song mercifully ended this aural torment.

But inside, I was calculating. My mind wasn’t on the man holding me; it was on the stranger who hadn’t taken his eyes off me all night.

And when I caught him moving, finally shifting from the wall, I felt it. I felt a thrill, fear and a pull.

Later, under the pretense of freshening up, I slipped down a gilded hallway, heels sharp against marble, heart thundering. The powder room was empty. I locked the door behind me, hands shaking as I pulled out my burner phone from the lining of my clutch. A straightforward message.

“Be ready, girl. Code word: Angelica. Back entrance. Tonight.”

I sent it to Dahlia, my ride-or-die chick, who alone knew exactly what I had been secretly planning underground. My escape, rebellion and my war.

I caught my reflection in the mirror: crimson lips, glossed eyes and hair twisted like a crown. I looked like a woman in control, but beneath it, I was a bomb with a fuse burning low. When I stepped out, Luca was already waiting, a smile too sharp to be sincere.

“There’s a rooftop toast,” he said. “Wouldn’t want to disappoint your daddy.”

I followed him to the rooftop garden, where champagne and fairy lights were draped across manicured roses like a wedding scene ripped from a crime movie.

My father stood at the edge of the terrace, raising his glass.

“To the future,” he declared. “To the union of two empires.” The guests echoed him. “To the future.”

Luca leaned closer. “I told them I wanted you served chilled,” he whispered. “But now… I think I’ll take you warm.” I turned to glare at him, words at the tip of my tongue, but they never came. Instead, a hand, too strong and gloved, clamped over my mouth.

I screamed, but it was swallowed in cloth. My feet left the ground. Glass shattered on the floor. Just then, I caught one last glimpse over a masked shoulder, but Luca didn’t move or even blink. He just smiled with a glass raised as I was being dragged away. I was grasping for air as darkness enveloped me while doing that, I kicked, clawed and twisted. But the man was stone, fast and silent. He carried me down the endless stairs out to a service entrance. Into a black SUV idling at the curb.

The door opened as we got close and I was thrown inside like a cabbage. My knees slammed against the leather and my breath came ragged and panicked. I turned just as the man slid in behind me. Darkness swallowed the interior upon closing the door. I turned and screamed again, this time raw and hoarse, but a thick hand caught my jaw.

“Let me go!” I screamed. His hand caught my jaw with calm and brutal precision. “Be quiet,” he said, his voice low and threaded with steel. “I didn’t save you. I claimed you.” His voice was deep, Italian and controlling. The SUV drove away. The city blurred behind tinted windows.

And in that moment, I was terrified, furious and trembling. I knew exactly what had happened. I had no idea where I was going or who the hell had just stolen me, but I knew one thing: I knew that Luca had known.