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PROLOGUE

The bass thrums through my bones as I watch another nameless dancer slide down the pole at The Silk Rose.

From my shadowed corner of the VIP section, I can see everything—the way the men's eyes follow her movements, the careful distance my security maintains, the precise choreography of my legitimate business running like clockwork.

As it always does.

I take a slow sip of whiskey, letting the burn ground me in the present.

The dancer is skilled, her movements fluid and practiced.

Technically perfect. Yet something's missing.

Not the dance. The person.

They're all missing it—that fire, that defiance, that untamable spirit that made me fall in?—

"Boss." Tomasso materializes at my shoulder, his presence breaking through my thoughts. "They are here.”

I glance at the men approaching my table and gesture to one of the booths as I head there. The club is full of people and our meeting requires privacy.

"Another whiskey, sir?"

Maria, one of my newer waitresses, approaches the private table with practiced grace. She's young, probably putting herself through college like much of my staff.

I give her a slight nod, watching how carefully she maintains her professional mask despite the predatory stares from my "business associates".

Viktor Petrov, my least favorite arms dealer, sprawls across the leather booth like he owns the place. His reputation for quality weapons is the only reason I tolerate his presence in my club. That, and the fact that the Bratva's support has been useful during Chicago's recent...territorial redistributions.

"So, we agree then, Rega? Two shipments per month, routed through my contacts in Miami?" Viktor's accent thickens when he drinks, and he's had plenty tonight.

I examine the ice in my glass, letting the silence stretch. "One shipment. Quality over quantity, Viktor. I won't flood my territory with subpar merchandise."

One of Viktor's men—Dmitri, I think—snorts derisively. "Careful, little prince. You're not your father."

The temperature in the room seems to drop ten degrees. Tomasso shifts almost imperceptibly at my shoulder, hand moving toward his jacket. I stop him with a glance.

"You're right," I say softly, deadly calm. "I'm not my father. He would have already had your tongue cut out for the disrespect."

Before Dmitri can respond, Maria returns with my whiskey. As she leans to set it down, Dmitri grabs her wrist, yanking her against him.

"How about some private entertainment, pretty thing?" His meaty hand slides up her thigh.

The girl freezes, terror flashing across her face. I set my glass down with deliberate care.

"Remove your hand."

Dmitri looks at me, drunk and stupid enough to smirk. "Come on, Rega. Learn to share your toys?—"

The crack of his nose breaking under my fist cuts off his words. Before his friends can react, I have him face-down on the table, arm twisted at an angle nature never intended.

The others reach for their weapons but freeze when they hear the distinctive sound of my security team chambering rounds.

"Maria," I say calmly, increasing the pressure on Dmitri's arm until he whimpers. "Are you all right?"

"Y-yes, Mr. Rega." She's shaking but holding it together.

"Good. Take the rest of the night off. Full pay." I look at Tomasso. "Make sure she gets home safely."

She hurries away, and I return my attention to the squirming man beneath me. "Now then. There seem to be some misconceptions about how things work in my establishment."

I lean down, speaking directly into his ear. "Every person who works for me is under my protection. Touch one of them again, and I'll send you back to Moscow in very small boxes." A slight twist of his arm produces a satisfying scream. "Nod if you understand."

He nods frantically. I release him, straightening my cuffs as he collapses to the floor.

Viktor, wisely silent until now, clears his throat. "Perhaps we should continue this discussion another time?"

"Perhaps." I retake my seat, gesturing for a fresh whiskey. "One shipment per month. Premium quality only. And you'll find new representation for our future meetings." I glance meaningfully at Dmitri, who's being helped to his feet. "I don't enjoy repeating myself."

They scramble out, just as my phone lights up, Angela's ringtone following. A smile tugs at my lips before I can stop it.

"Piccola, isn't it way past your bedtime? You should be resting."

"I'm fourteen, not four." Her laugh, though slightly breathless from her recent treatments, still sounds like sunshine. "And I've been resting all day. Besides, Violeta let me watch that new vampire show everyone's talking about and?—"

" Violeta?" I arch an eyebrow even though she can't see it. "The nurse I specifically instructed to maintain your sleep schedule?"

"Oh, don't be mad at her. You know I can be very persuasive." There's a smile in her voice that reminds me too much of myself. "Must run in the family."

I lean back in my seat, tension easing from my shoulders. "Angela..."

"And I was thinking," she continues, ignoring my warning tone, "Maybe I could come visit the club sometime? Just to see what it's like? I promise I'll stay in your office?—"

"Absolutely not." The words come out sharper than intended.

"But ?—"

"No." I soften my voice. "The club isn't a place for you, tesoro . When you're feeling better, we'll go anywhere else you want."

She's quiet for a moment. "Promise?"

"Have I ever broken a promise to you?"

"No." Another pause. "Will you come see me tomorrow?”

My heart clenches. "Nothing would keep me away."

After we hang up, I gesture to Tomasso. "Get another nurse for Angela. Someone who won't cave to puppy dog eyes and Netflix requests."

"She convinced Violeta to do something that wasn’t allowed again ?" He tries to hide his amusement and fails.

"Sometimes I think she's more dangerous than all of us put?—"

The words die in my throat. Across the club, a woman moves through the crowd—long raven hair, athletic build, the same confident stride that's haunted my dreams for years.

Ava.

My body moves before my brain can catch up, stalking through the crowd that parts instinctively before me.

I catch her arm, perhaps too roughly, spinning her to face me. But the eyes that meet mine are green, not the deep brown I've been searching for.

Not her.

"Mr. Rega!" The woman's face lights up with recognition, her body language shifting to something more inviting. "I was hoping to run into you tonight. Maybe we could?—"

"No." I release her arm, already turning away, ignoring her disappointed pout.

I head back to my table, a hollow sensation spreading, my mind already drifting away.

Somewhere in the club, glass shatters. My head snaps toward the sound, my body tensing. But it's just some drunk fool dropping his drink. I catch the eye of Matteo, one of my security team members, and nod once. He moves smoothly through the crowd to handle it.

Everything in my world runs on precision and control now. The wild boy who once promised to chase a girl to the ends of the earth is gone, replaced by a man who rules Chicago's underworld with ruthless efficiency. I've built an empire on the foundations of that control.

But she...she made me want to burn it all down. Even if it’s just to see her one more time.

The lights blur as the memory takes hold, dragging me back to that last summer, before everything changed. Before she vanished like smoke through my fingers.

Ava.

Even thinking her name feels dangerous, like playing with fire. Like inviting chaos back into my carefully ordered world.

I welcome the burn.

The memory sweeps over me like a tide, drowning out the pulsing music of the club.

* * *

FOURTEEN YEARS AGO

The summer air hangs heavy with the scent of jasmine as I pull her deeper into the shadows of the Venere gardens. Ava's hand is small in mine, but there's nothing delicate about her grip. Even at sixteen, she moves like a predator—graceful, dangerous, completely aware of her own power.

"We shouldn't be here, ." Her whisper carries a hint of that smart mouth that drives me crazy. "Your father would kill you if he knew you were sneaking around with a D'Amato."

I back her against the aged stone wall, caging her between my arms. "Let him try."

The moonlight catches in her eyes—dark as sin and twice as tempting. I'd started noticing her that spring, watching the way she'd changed from the scrappy kid who used to follow me around into something wild and beautiful. She is the daughter of con artists, raised on secrets and lies, but God help me, I'd never wanted anything more.

"Always so sure of yourself," she teases, but there's an edge to her tone. Her fingers trace the collar of my shirt, and the simple touch sets my blood on fire. "The great Rega, third son of the family. What would you do if someone tried to stop you from getting what you want?"

I lean in close enough to feel her breath catch. "Burn the whole fucking world down."

I kiss her and her hands fist in my hair, pulling me closer with a need that matches my own. I've kissed other girls before, but this—this is different. This is gasoline meeting flame.

"I'll follow you anywhere," I promise against her mouth. "To the ends of the earth, Ava. Just say the word."

She goes still in my arms, and something dark flickers across her face. For a moment, she looks older, weighed down by secrets I don't understand. Her hand comes up to cup my cheek, and the tenderness in the gesture makes my chest ache.

"Oh, ." Her smile is sad now, full of shadows. "You should run as far from me and my family as you can. We destroy everything we touch. It's what we do."

I try to argue, to tell her I don't care about our families or their rules, but she silences me with another kiss. This one tastes like a goodbye, though I don't know it yet.

Her body melds against mine, her soft curves and sharp edges fitting perfectly in my arms. When she pulls away, there are tears in her eyes that she won't let fall.

"Promise me something?" she whispers.

"Anything."

"Remember me like this—just like this."

A week later, she disappears. No goodbye, no explanation. The D'Amatos vanish into thin air, leaving nothing but whispers and speculation behind.

I spend months searching, calling in every favor I can, but it's like she never existed.

And soon, my whole world changed, too.

* * *

The man I've become bears little resemblance to the boy who made passionate promises in a moonlit garden.

But some things haven't changed.

I still protect what's mine. And Ava...Ava has always been mine.

The last PI I hired found nothing but old school records and a death certificate for her parents from seven years ago. Car accident. No foul play. No trace of Ava and her brother.

"Another whiskey, Boss?" Tomasso asks quietly.

I shake my head, exhaustion creeping in. "Clear my schedule for the morning," I tell Tomasso, rising from my seat. "I'll be with Angela."

He nods, already typing on his phone. "The Colombians wanted to meet about the dock situation?—"

"Push it to next week." I straighten my cuffs, a tic I display when I need to focus, to calm down. "Family first."

The irony of those words isn't lost on me. Family first—it's what my father always preached, and what got him killed in the end.

Now here I am, running an empire I never wanted, protecting a sister who deserves better than this life, and chasing the ghost of a girl who was never really mine to keep.

As I move through the club, my employees nod respectfully, their fear mixed with something like reverence. They know what I'm capable of—they've seen the monster I can be. But they also know I protect my own.

It's a delicate balance; one I've spent years perfecting.

In my office, I pour one final drink, standing at the window that overlooks Chicago's glittering skyline.

This city belongs to me now; every shadow and secret, every deal and death.

I've built something my father never could: an empire run on precision instead of passion, on strategy instead of strength alone.

But for what? Power means nothing when the one thing I truly want remains out of reach.

My reflection stares back at me in the dark glass—expensive suit, carefully styled hair, the mask of control I wear so well. I’m nothing like the wild boy who kissed a girl in a garden and promised her forever. But underneath this polished and controlled veneer, that boy still burns, still hungers, still dreams of dark eyes and defiant smiles.

I pick up a picture of Ava from all those years ago that I’ve always kept tucked in my wallet. I wonder what she looks like now, all grown.

"I told you I'd follow you to the ends of the earth, Ava," I whisper to the night. "Did you think I was lying?"

The monster in me stirs, awakening from its restless slumber. Soon, very soon, I'll find her. And this time, I won't let her disappear.

This time, she'll stay exactly where she belongs.

With me.