Chapter 3

I should’ve been paying more attention.

Instead, I found myself mesmerized by Roman Lysander’s gaze. He made me feel desirable in a way I’d never experienced before.

Growing up, I was never shy. I was confident and comfortable in my own skin. Society might not have seen me as slim or sleek, but that never bothered me.

My parents had always instilled in me a sense of self-worth, reminding me of my value and how special I was in their eyes. Because of them, I knew I didn’t have to compromise who I was.

But with Roman, it felt different. He looked at me as if I were the only thing that could quench his hunger. I should have heeded the warning signs and declined his invitation; his arrogance was off-putting. But despite that, I felt a fierce sense of empowerment and allure when he looked at me. The more intense his gaze, the more attractive I felt.

So I smiled, moved closer, and accepted his offer.

Later that evening, I sank into my chair, wine glass filled with rich, fruity red wine. I took a slow, savoring sip, letting the flavor linger on my tongue.

Roman’s visit earlier that day consumed my thoughts. I was bewildered by the strength of my feelings for someone I barely knew. It wasn’t just physical attraction; there was something more profound and magnetic about him. His potent masculinity stirred something within me that I hadn’t felt before.

I took another deep gulp of wine, my thoughts drifting to Roman. Although I was still a virgin and had been celibate for longer than I cared to admit, I couldn’t shake the thought of what an encounter with him might be like.

I glanced at the coffee table, where my phone sat, and the traffic noise outside my apartment seemed distant. My mind replayed Roman’s words and the impact he had on me. I remembered the stares and murmurs he’d garnered when he first walked into the office over a month ago. Oddly, no rumors had surfaced about him, despite the attention he received. I hadn’t been brave enough to ask, not wanting to draw attention to my curiosity.

I set down my wine glass and reached for my laptop. I powered it up and began searching for information on Roman Lysander. The top search results were filled with accolades and flattering phrases: donations, essays about his upbringing, and his rise to becoming a multibillionaire. Everything seemed polished and typical.

But the aura of danger I had sensed around him pushed me to dig deeper. I found articles suggesting his possible connections to organized crime—references to a group known as "The Family," a term associated with the Italian mafia.

It felt like a scene from a movie. If it hadn’t been for the palpable reality of Roman’s presence, I might have dismissed it as sensationalism. But the power and control he exuded felt too authentic to be fictional.

I closed my laptop slowly, feeling a chill run down my spine. I took another swig of wine, realizing only then that my glass was empty.

Could Roman Lysander really be involved with the mafia?