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Chapter 1: The Royal Prophecy & First Glimpse of the Mafia Heir
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2025-03-04 17:05:46The ballroom was suffocating.
Gold chandeliers dripped with candlelight, casting a warm glow over the sea of noblemen and courtiers who swayed in time with the music. The air was thick with the scent of jasmine and spiced wine, but beneath the perfume and luxury, Elara could smell something else—deception. She sat at the royal table, her posture poised, a delicate mask of indifference hiding the storm brewing inside her. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration—her father, King Aldric, had arranged this grand affair to solidify alliances, ensuring the throne’s continued power over Avarath. But Elara knew better. This wasn’t about unity. It was about control. “Princess, you’ve been quiet all evening.” Elara turned her head slightly at the voice. Duke Rathford, a man twice her age with wandering hands and an even more dangerous ambition, smirked at her from across the table. She forced a smile. “Just admiring the company, my lord.” His smirk widened, but before he could spew another tired flirtation, a hush fell over the room. The doors to the ballroom swung open. Elara’s grip tightened around her goblet as he walked in. Vesper Moretti. The name itself carried weight—a whispered legend in the underworld, a shadow that stretched over the kingdom like a storm waiting to break. Dressed in black, he moved with the ease of a man who feared nothing. His presence alone made the nobles shift uncomfortably, their masks of arrogance faltering under the weight of who he was. The heir to the Moretti empire. The mafia prince. He shouldn’t be here. The underworld and the crown had long existed in a precarious balance—one did not interfere with the other. But Vesper had just crossed that line, walking into the heart of the palace as if he belonged. As if he owned it. Elara’s heart pounded as he approached the royal table, his gaze locked onto hers with an intensity that made her breath hitch. A slow, knowing smirk curled on his lips. “Your Highness,” he murmured, bowing slightly. “You look…” His dark eyes trailed over her, lingering just long enough to send a shiver down her spine. “…exquisite tonight.” The words were polite. The tone was anything but. Murmurs rippled through the court. The Moretti heir was addressing the princess—boldly, publicly. A direct challenge. Her father’s expression hardened, but before he could speak, Elara did. “Lord Moretti,” she said smoothly, tilting her chin up. “You’re far from home.” His smirk deepened. “So are you.” A flicker of amusement danced in his gaze, but beneath it, she saw something else. Curiosity. Calculation. He wasn’t just here to provoke. He was here for something else. And whatever it was, it involved her. Elara’s pulse quickened. Because for the first time in her life, she wasn’t sure if she was the one playing the game—or if she had just become a piece in his. Elara kept her expression impassive, but inside, her mind was racing. Vesper Moretti stood before her, his confidence unshaken despite the tension crackling in the air. His presence alone was a challenge, an open act of defiance against the crown. He was not supposed to be here. Yet, here he was. King Aldric’s voice cut through the silence. “I don’t recall extending an invitation to the Moretti heir.” Vesper turned his gaze to the king and bowed—not out of respect, but with the calculated precision of a man who knew exactly how much he could get away with. “My apologies, Your Majesty,” Vesper said smoothly. “It seems there was a mistake. I was under the impression this was a gathering to celebrate alliances. And since my family has… contributed to the prosperity of Avarath, I assumed my presence would be welcomed.” Elara heard the unspoken words beneath his diplomacy. The Morettis were criminals, but they were necessary criminals. Their influence in the underworld kept trade routes safe, debts collected, and enemies eliminated before they could become problems for the crown. Her father hated that truth, but even he couldn’t deny it. A muscle ticked in the king’s jaw. “Your assumption was incorrect.” Vesper smiled. “A shame.” His attention flicked back to Elara, lingering just long enough for it to be noticed. “I was hoping to become better acquainted with the princess.” Elara felt every pair of eyes in the room shift to her. A direct challenge. She had two choices. Ignore him, like a dutiful daughter would. Or respond, like the princess of Avarath should. She chose the latter. “How bold of you, Lord Moretti,” she said, letting a slow, amused smile touch her lips. “To assume we would have anything to discuss.” Vesper tilted his head slightly, studying her as if she were a puzzle he intended to solve. “Oh, I think we do,” he murmured. A sharp inhale from the nobles around them. There was meaning in his words. Too much. Too deliberate. Elara’s fingers curled around the stem of her goblet. “And what, exactly, do you think we have in common?” Vesper stepped closer—just enough for her to catch the scent of him, something dark and rich, like cedarwood and smoke. A dangerous scent. A dangerous man. “We both know this kingdom isn’t as perfect as it pretends to be,” he said, voice low enough that only she could hear. “And we both know the roles we’re forced to play aren’t the ones we were meant for.” Her breath caught. Because for a fleeting moment, she wondered—did he know? About the prophecy? About the secret buried in her blood? Or was this just another game? She wasn’t sure which answer frightened her more. Before she could respond, her father’s voice rang through the hall. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, Lord Moretti.” A dismissal. A warning. Vesper chuckled softly but took a step back, offering Elara one last look—a look filled with unspoken promises and veiled threats. “As you wish, Your Majesty.” Then, just like that, he turned and disappeared into the crowd, swallowed by the shadows of the ballroom. But Elara knew this wasn’t over. No, this was just the beginning. Because as much as she wanted to pretend otherwise, she had just met her match. And she had the unsettling feeling that Vesper Moretti wasn’t here for the kingdom. He was here for her.
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