Chapter 5

SCARLETT

“Put me down!” I shouted, pounding my fists against his back, but Adrian didn’t flinch. Not once.

He kicked the door open with one smooth motion, walked into the room like he owned the goddamn world—and me—and dropped me onto the bed.

“You’re insane,” I spat, scrambling up.

Adrian stood there, calm as ever, loosening his tie like he hadn’t just manhandled me into a locked room. “A night should never feel this long with me?” he repeated, brows raised. “Interesting way to beg for more.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” I snapped.

He shrugged, flicking open the top button of his shirt. “Then say what you mean next time. Clarity is sexy.”

I lunged for the door, but he beat me there, hand on the knob. His other hand reached behind him to lock it with a click.

“Adrian, don’t do this.”

“I’m not doing anything,” he said, voice low. “You’re the one playing games.”

I grabbed the vase from the side table and smashed it on the ground between us. The sound of shattering glass filled the room.

He stared down at it, then at me, and slowly rolled his sleeves. “Feel better?”

I didn’t answer.

“I’ll have the maids bring more vases,” he said simply. “Break as many as you want. I’m going out. You can scream, throw things, call for help—none of it will change the fact that you kissed me first.”

He turned to leave.

“You think that kiss meant something?” I shouted.

He paused, fingers on the door handle.

“That was revenge,” I hissed. “That was me using you to piss off your son.”

Adrian looked over his shoulder, smirked. “Worked. On both of us.”

The door shut behind him. Locked again.

I exhaled sharply, grabbed my phone, and dialed the only person left who might’ve cared. William.

He picked up on the first ring. “Scarlett—”

“You betrayed me,” I said, cold.

“Scarlett, listen to me,” he said quickly. “I didn’t betray you. I sold the company, yes, but that was strategy. Adrian thinks he owns you now, but we’re going to flip it. We’re going to take him down from the inside.”

My throat tightened. “How the hell do you expect me to trust you now?”

“Because I gave you the job in the first place,” William said. “So you have to believe me”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My hand was shaking, and I didn’t know if it was from anger or fear.

“There’s something else,” he added.

“What?”

“You weren’t his first target.”

My blood ran cold.

“What does that mean?” I asked slowly.

“Scarlett, he’s done this before. To another journalist. Her name was Mara. She disappeared.”

Silence.

“I found out two days ago. Adrian had her fired, blacklisted, and no one’s heard from her since. Not a trace.”

My heart thudded in my chest.

“You’re saying—”

“He’s dangerous. More dangerous than we thought. Any little mistake, he could kill you.”

The call ended abruptly.

I checked the screen—Call failed. No signal.

Of course. He jammed the reception. This entire place I am in was a fucking trap.

Immediately, I grabbed the vase.

Cold. Heavy. Perfect.

My pulse spiked as I spun and hurled it at the glass. It struck dead center.

CRASH.

The window exploded outward in a shower of sharp glittering shards. Wind rushed in, cold and violent, slapping my face like reality finally catching up. The sound was deafening, but no one came rushing in.

No shouts.

No “Stop doing that!”

No guards storming in to pin me down.

Of course not.

Adrian had ordered them to stand down. Let me do whatever I wanted.

Even if that meant destroying his mansion one piece at a time.

I stood there, breath heaving, blood dripping down my fingers from a gash I didn’t notice. My reflection in the broken glass looked just as wrecked as I felt—wild eyes, trembling chest, a war behind my ribs.

Footsteps echoed down the hallway—measured, calm, expensive leather against marble.

Then the door opened.

A tall, polished man stepped in like he owned the room. Slick black suit, dark eyes, not an ounce of panic on his face. I didn’t recognize him.

“Scarlett,” he said, voice smooth as silk, “that won’t help.”

I glared at him. “Who the hell are you?”

He adjusted his cuff, like he had all the time in the world. “Enzo. Adrian sent me to bring you to him. Go get dressed.”

I barked a laugh. “You see the fucking window?”

He glanced at the shattered glass, completely unfazed. “Yes. And I was told not to interfere. But I’d recommend something red. He likes you in red. A maid would bring the dress over in a minute.” He said and then walked away.

Few minutes later a maid walked into the room with shaky hands, holding a silk dress draped over her arm. Her eyes darted away from mine like I might explode again.

I didn’t thank her. I didn’t even look at her. I just took the dress, disappeared into the bathroom, and changed quickly.

The dress was red. Tight. Expensive. The kind of red you wear to a seduction or an execution.

When I stepped out, Enzo just held the door open. No compliments. No greetings. Just expectation. I slid into the passenger seat of his car, slamming the door harder than necessary.

We rolled out through the tall iron gates.

“Enzo,” I said, glancing toward the shadows of the city passing us by, “I need to pee. You could just stop here and let me out.”

Enzo didn’t even look at me. “Don’t try to escape.”

I turned around.

Five black SUVs followed us like wolves. Two men on motorcycles flanked our sides. Military-style coordination. It wasn’t just a dinner.

It was an operation.

I leaned back in the seat with a frustrated sigh. “Fine. Take me to the devil, then.”

He smirked.

We arrived at the restaurant minutes later. The place was eerie in its silence. No customers. No staff in sight. Just polished floors, soft lights, and a table set for two in the center like a trap.

“He owns this place,” Enzo said, stepping out and adjusting his suit. “So he booked it all. Privacy is important to him.”

Of course it was. The Mafia King didn’t share spaces. He conquered them.

I nodded stiffly, stepping out in my heels, head held high.

My phone buzzed in my hand. Marco. Again.

We’ve paid you. Are you doing your job? Vincent and Adrian should be on the article by now.

Another message followed.

Scarlett, don’t get emotional now. Stay focused. Get what we need. Don’t forget why you’re there.

I stared at the screen, thumb hovering over the reply button, when a familiar voice sliced through the silence behind me.

“Reading something interesting? Why do you even have access to your phone? I should have seized that the day you walked into my mansion”

My body turned before my mind did.

Adrian.

Standing close. Too close. In a black dress shirt, sleeves rolled to his forearms, veins visible beneath inked skin. Eyes locked on mine.

I flinched when he reached out and snatched the phone from my hand before I could blink.

“Adrian—” I tried, voice catching.

But he wasn’t listening. His face was stone. His thumb slid across the screen, unlocking everything. I watched his eyes darken with every scroll.

Every message.

Every plan.

Every betrayal.

The air turned into ice.

He looked up at me slowly. Calmly. Rage simmering just beneath the surface.

“I knew you have been working with William’s but I didn’t know you were working with the FBI,” he said softly.

“Adrian, I—”

His voice dropped to a whisper. “My gun, Enzo.”

Enzo didn’t ask questions. He pulled a sleek black pistol from under his jacket and placed it in Adrian’s hand with terrifying calm.

I froze.

My heart stopped.