SEDUCED BY THE ENEMY'S KISS

Diana POV 

The music wrapped around me like a lover’s embrace, slow and intoxicating. I swayed effortlessly, my hand resting in his, my body following his lead.

Enzo.

His face was hidden behind a black mask, but I knew it was him. I would recognize his presence anywhere—the way he moved, the way his fingers pressed against my waist with just the right amount of control.

"You're doing well, princess," he murmured, his voice smooth, rich, and laced with something unreadable.

A small smile tugged at my lips. I leaned against his chest, inhaling his familiar scent. It was comforting, safe.

"Will I always be your princess?" I whispered, my voice barely audible over the soft melody.

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he turned me, his hands sliding over my waist, guiding me until my back was pressed against his chest. His hold lingered, fingers tightening slightly, making my breath hitch.

It felt... intimate. Too intimate.

And then—pain.

His grip hardened around my waist, fingers digging into my skin like a vice. My heart slammed against my ribs.

"Enzo, you're kind of hurting me." My voice trembled, but I tried to stay calm.

A dark chuckle. "Good."

His breath was warm against my ear, his lips so close that every word sent a shiver down my spine.

"After what your father did, I hope you know I wish you nothing but eternal pain and death."

My blood turned to ice.

I yanked myself free, staggering back, my hands clutching my waist where his grip had just been.

"Enzo?" My voice cracked.

Darkness swallowed him whole.

I jolted awake.

My chest rose and fell in sharp, frantic breaths. My hands clenched the sheets, damp with sweat, my entire body trembling. My heart pounded like it was trying to escape my ribcage.

It was just a dream.

But it felt real. Too real.

The door creaked open.

I whipped my head toward the sound, my pulse still racing.

Maria stepped inside, a warm cup of coffee in her hands. She barely glanced at me before sighing, a knowing look crossing her face.

"My ladybird," she said gently. "Bad dream again?"

Maria sat beside me on the bed, holding me close. Her warmth surrounded me, grounding me in reality. She had been with me since I was a child—my nanny, my protector. But more than that, she was like a mother to me. The only one who had ever truly cared.

I clung to her, my breath still uneven, the dream clinging to me like a shadow.

Maria sighed, her voice soft but filled with quiet concern. "Poor child, you dreamed of him again, didn't you?"

I swallowed hard, saying nothing.

She ran her fingers through my hair, soothing, comforting. "He's gone, Diana. You shouldn't be crying or thinking about him."

My hands clenched the sheets. I knew what she wanted me to say. That Enzo was my past. That he didn’t matter anymore.

But I couldn’t.

"Enzo’s good," I said instead, my voice barely above a whisper.

Maria tensed.

"I know he's good."

Maria's hand stilled. Her body went rigid. And when she finally spoke, her voice was lower than before, almost a warning.

"Miss Diana..."

I rested my head against her shoulder, closing my eyes, seeking comfort.

Maria’s voice was almost a whisper now. "Don’t you dare speak that name in this house."

I turned to look at her, my chest tightening.

"Enzo is not a bad person," I said firmly. "Father did things to him, and..."  "It doesn’t matter. He loves me."

A silence stretched between us.

"And he said he’d be here for my twenty-fifth birthday." I gripped Maria’s hand. "I know he will be here."

Maria let out a shaky sigh, resting her head against mine.

"Nothing good will come out of a visit from Enzo Rossi."

Maria stood behind me, her fingers working gently through my hair as she styled it for the night. I sat in front of the vanity mirror, already dressed in my elaborate gown. The deep crimson fabric hugged my body perfectly, the off-shoulder design exposing my collarbones. My reflection stared back at me, but I barely recognized myself beneath the mask of perfection.

I sighed, crossing my arms. “This whole costume party idea is stupid. I’m not ten anymore.”

Maria chuckled softly, carefully pinning my hair into place. “I know you’re disappointed about a certain… missing guest.”

She continued, smoothing down the last few strands. “But you will have a great night tonight. Mr. D’Angelo invited the most handsome young men in the city.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not interested.”

Maria let out an exaggerated sigh. “Well, you should be.” 

She gave me a knowing smile. “Your brother’s duty is for the family.”

I groaned. I knew where this was going. “And my duty—”

Before she could even finish, I beat her to it. “Is to bear children, right?”

Maria laughed softly, shaking her head. “No, my ladybird.” She leaned down, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Your duty is to fall in love.” 

The grand hall was alive with music, laughter, and the soft clinking of glasses. Guests twirled across the dance floor in elegant masks, their faces hidden behind the illusion of mystery. The lights were dim, casting long shadows, adding to the eerie beauty of the night.

Maria pushed open the heavy doors, and I stepped inside. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and aged whiskey. My dress trailed behind me as I walked, my mask in place, concealing the emotions swirling inside me.

Maria guided me straight toward the main table, where my father sat like a king overseeing his empire.

"Sorry, my Don," Maria said respectfully.

Andreas D’Angelo, the man everyone feared yet adored, rose from his seat with a wide grin. His sharp eyes gleamed under the golden chandelier.

"Ah, here is my birthday girl!"

I smiled as he approached, his arms wide. He kissed both sides of my face, a gesture both affectionate and possessive.

"You look like an angel."

"Thank you, Papa," I replied sweetly.

My eyes roamed over his attire. Unlike the others who wore extravagant costumes, he was in his signature dark suit.

"What are you dressed up as?" I asked, tilting my head.

He smirked. "The Mafia King! Myself!"

His deep laughter echoed through the room.

As he laughed, Franco—his most trusted man—stepped forward and whispered something in his ear. My father’s smile barely faltered as he gave him a short nod.

"Alright, thank you, Franco."

Then, he turned back to me, his face full of warmth.

"So, Amore Mio, what do you want for your 25th birthday?"

I took a slow breath, my heart hammering against my ribs. This was it.

"I was thinking... since it’s my special birthday, I want you to grant me a pardon."

His brow arched, amusement flickering in his eyes. "A pardon? From me? Who do you want to spare?"

I hesitated only for a second before speaking the name that had been burning on my tongue all night.

"Enzo Rossi."

The moment his name left my lips, a sharp crack filled the air.

My father had crushed the glass cup in his hand, shards slicing into his fingers.

Blood dripped onto the white tablecloth, but he didn’t seem to notice.

His voice dropped, low and dangerous.

"Diana, my dear daughter... what did you just say?"