LUCIANO POV

I stood in the middle of the penthouse’s office, arms folded behind my back, gaze locked on the security monitors mounted near the entrance. Daisy’s figure flickered in one of them — standing alone by the balcony of my private suite, like a flame refusing to go out.

She was safe now. But safe wasn’t enough. I pulled out my phone and dialed Hardin.

He answered on the first ring.

“Boss?”

“I need a private chef and a Butler here within the hour.”

A pause.

Then Hardin’s voice, laced with confusion: “For what?”

I clenched my jaw. “Daisy will need them.”

Another pause. Longer this time.

Then came the response — dry and laced with attitude: “She's here because her apartment isn’t safe. Not because she needs a princess treatment.”

I turned slowly, eyes narrowing at the monitor as Daisy moved back inside. I could still taste her defiance on my tongue. Still feel her words when she said she could never be mine.

Hardin didn’t know how close I’d come to proving her wrong. I pressed the phone harder to my ear.

“Do I need to remind you,” I said, my voice dropping to a low, venomous drawl, “who you work for, Hardin?”

Silence.

“She’s under my roof. That makes her mine to protect. If I say she gets three butlers, a private masseuse, and a harpist at her damn door every morning—then you don’t question it.”

Another beat of silence.

“Do I make myself clear?”

“…Yes, sir.”

“Good.” I ended the call without another word.

This wasn’t about pampering Daisy.

It was about control.

Mine.

And the fact that anyone — even Hardin — questioning that control? Would learn quickly that I didn’t give second warnings.

***********************


HARDIN POV

I stared at my phone for a full five seconds after the call ended.

Then I shoved it into my back pocket, muttering a sharp curse under my breath. A chef and a Butler?

What’s next, silk robes and fucking violinists?

I stalked through the hallway of the Harlem base, fists clenched so tight my knuckles cracked. Men turned away when they saw my face. They knew that look. The one that meant someone was gonna bleed if they stepped too close.

Luciano was losing it. I saw it in the way he looked at her. That Daisy girl. The little wildcat who sauntered into our world like she owned the damn place.

Ever since she came in, things had been... off.

He shot one of our men for disrespecting her. Had her sleeping in his private suite. Now he wants to feed her gourmet meals and tuck her in with fucking Egyptian cotton?

It wasn’t just wrong.

It was dangerous.

I stopped near the weapons rack and picked up a pistol, rolling it over in my hand like it was the only thing in the world that made sense.

She’s unraveling him. Piece by piece.

And the worst part?

He doesn’t even see it. Not yet. But he will.

Sooner or later, Luciano Morreti will look in the mirror and realize the empire he built is burning from the inside.

And when that day comes…I’ll be waiting.

***********************

DAISY POV


The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the cold.

Not the temperature kind, no.

The kind that sank in when you reached out in the middle of the night and realized the bed beside you was untouched.

Luciano hadn’t slept in the room.

Not a crease on the sheets. Not a trace of warmth. Just the faint scent of his cologne lingering like a ghost near the pillows. I sat up slowly, my body cocooned in one of his soft T-shirts — one I’d found folded in a drawer the night before. The silk sheets slipped down my arms as I blinked toward the doorway.

Nothing, Just silence.

And then… a soft knock.

I stiffened. “Who is it?”

The door creaked open before I finished asking. A woman stepped in.

She was dressed in a crisp black-and-white uniform with a neat bun.

“Good morning, Miss Monroe,” she said with a practiced smile. “Breakfast is ready. Mr. Morreti is waiting downstairs.”

My brows flew up. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m Maria,” she answered calmly. “Your Butler.”

My What...?

I tossed the covers off, swinging my legs to the side of the bed. “You mean to tell me I have a damn housekeeper or butler or whatever now?”


Maria blinked, but didn’t answer.

I shot up, brushing past her and storming into the hallway barefoot, my hair a wild mess, my heart pounding with too many emotions to count.

Luciano had ordered a damn servant. For me. Like I was some mafia Barbie he could tuck into a palace and forget.

And he didn’t even have the decency to sleep in the same room? After dragging me out of my apartment in the middle of the night like I was glass he couldn’t risk shattering?

My feet slapped against the marble floor as I reached the main hallway of the penthouse. The scent of fresh eggs, warm bread, and espresso teased my nose, but I ignored it.

I spotted him in the dining room.

Perfectly dressed in black slacks and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, tattoos flexing on his forearms, his hair still damp from a shower. He looked like a man carved out of sin and ice — sipping coffee like he hadn't just turned my entire life upside down.

“Good morning,” he said without looking up.

I marched up to the table and slammed my hand against it. “I have been here before and I didn't see a single soul as a butler or whatever, what is this? But that aside, You didn’t sleep in the room, why?!.”

He looked up, cool as ever. "I don't sleep close to people"

"I am people?", I asked, my blood boiling.

He sipped his coffee, voice cold as ice.

" I don't share a bed with anyone, no matter who they are and you are not a exception"

Those words pierced my heart like a bullet. Something like this should have any effect on me but coming from Luciano, I felt hurt.

I opened my mouth to talk but nothing came out of them.

“You’re staying here for now,” he said. “You won’t come to the warehouse, and you won’t step outside this penthouse unless I say so.”

I blinked. “What?”

“You’ve got a tail,” he said simply.

"My men saw him watching you. I’ll deal with it — but until then, this place is a lockdown.”

My fists clenched.

He turned his back on me like the conversation was done.

I opened my mouth to argue — to spit fire — but before I could, Hardin appeared from the hallway, dressed in all black with a matte pistol holstered at his side.

“Car’s ready,” Hardin said.

Luciano nodded once. “Let’s go.”

Hardin didn’t even glance my way as he walked past, but I caught the tension in his jaw — the way his eyes flicked to me for the briefest second with disdain.

And just like that, they were gone.

Leaving me standing in this luxury cage with nothing but silence and the taste of unfinished fury on my tongue.

(TO BE CONTINUED....)