Chapter 2
Luca Bernardi had watched the whole thing on the security monitors—the way Ava Santos froze outside his office doors, her spine stiff and proud, but her hands trembling slightly as she clenched them into fists.
He saw the hesitation, the long pause, the battle she fought with herself before finally moving.
And then she stormed in.
The transformation was breathtaking.
His breath caught in his throat as the most glorious woman he had ever known stalked into his office like she owned it.
Ava Santos. She hadn’t walked in timidly or meekly—no, she burst through the doors as if daring him to stop her, her defiance blazing through every line of her body. It thrilled him.
Her long, dark curls tumbled over her shoulders, framing a face set with fiery intensity. Her dark eyes locked onto him, sharp as daggers, and the sheer force of her gaze sent a jolt of lust straight to his core.
Every step she took seemed deliberate, commanding the space, her presence filling the room in a way that made the air feel charged.
Dressed in black, the fabric skimmed over her curves with sinful precision, hugging her figure in a way that mocked restraint.
The sway of her hips was unconscious, but Luca’s eyes followed helplessly, drawn like metal to a magnet.
What was it about Ava Santos that made his body react so violently?
It wasn’t just her beauty—though God knew that was enough to undo a man.
It was the contradiction. He had seen her reluctance seconds ago, her fear of walking through those doors.
And yet here she was, defying that fear, standing in front of him with a fire that dared him to look away.
No one else had ever challenged him like that.
His body tightened, the raw, untamed need to bend her over his desk rising fast and merciless. He wanted to strip away her control, to strip away her clothes, to claim her in every possible way. And yet, the truth was undeniable—her defiance captivated him as much as it infuriated him.
Her voice cut through the silence, sharp and commanding.“Are you going to help me stop the Yakuza from messing with my business or not?”
The words hit him like a blade. Luca straightened instinctively, pushing away from his desk, thrown off balance. “What are you talking about?” His brow furrowed, confusion streaking across his face. The Yakuza? Here, in his territory?
This wasn’t what he had expected when she’d stormed in. He had braced for an emotional plea, maybe even accusations—but not this. Ava Santos had just dropped a bombshell, and for the first time in years, Luca Bernardi found himself speechless.
She planted herself in front of his desk, folding her arms across her chest in a move that only emphasized her curves. The defiance in her posture lit him on fire. She wasn’t trying to flirt. She wasn’t trying to charm. She was demanding. And no one—no one—ever demanded things of him.
“They expect me to pay for their unasked-for protection,” Ava explained fiercely, her voice laced with disdain. “I thought you were in charge of this town!”
The accusation pierced straight through his composure. Luca stiffened, jaw locking as she stepped forward and jabbed her finger into his chest.
“You’re supposed to be the big, bad mafia king around here,” she added, poking him again.
This time, his hand shot out, wrapping around her wrist to still her. He held her hand firmly, his grip gentle but unyielding. “Explain,” he growled, the word heavy, dangerous.
But even as the word left his lips, her revelation struck him full force. The Yakuza. Here. On his turf.
So, they’d made their move, daring to challenge his control. That was their first mistake. On his turf, there was only room for one king, and Luca Bernardi wasn’t about to share. A slow, dangerous satisfaction stirred in his chest, the kind of primal anticipation that sharpened his focus.
He almost relished the thought of dismantling them piece by piece—exposing their schemes, cutting off their money, and watching their men scramble before he crushed them.
The Yakuza thought they could slither into his city, but they had no idea what kind of predator they were provoking.
This wasn’t weakness they’d stumbled across.
This was a man who’d bled, fought, and carved an empire with his bare hands.
They wanted a confrontation? Perfect. Luca would meet them head-on, and he wouldn’t stop until Riko Tanaka’s name was erased from Las Vegas like it had never existed.
“Start from the beginning and tell me what’s going on.”
In the back of his head, relief washed over him.
Ava had come to him. She had come here for help, seeking him out despite everything.
There was a part of Luca, buried beneath the hard exterior, that felt an unexpected sense of satisfaction knowing she was pulling him into this fight.
The Yakuza’s attempts to weaken his business had been subtle at first—strikes here, murmurs of dissatisfaction there—but he’d dealt with those.
Other casino owners had complained about the unrest, and Luca had taken swift action, removing the agitators before issues could spread.
But now, with Ava in the crossfire, this just became personal.
Ava’s previously defiant eyes flickered with wariness at his order, but that was quickly replaced by something sharper, hungrier. She masked it with her usual fire, but Luca saw it—the moment she recognized exactly what kind of man he was, and what he was capable of.
“Are you telling me that you aren’t aware of the dumpster fire at my warehouse? Or the graffiti all over the sidewalks and my building?” she demanded, her glare sharp enough to cut glass.
“When?” he snapped, his focus narrowing.
His mind ran through the chaos of the past few months—the construction delays at his sites on the edge of town, the kitchen fires in the casino, the murmurs of strikes.
The Yakuza had been testing him, probing at his edges, challenging his control.
He’d swatted them down each time, but this was different. This was Ava.
She wasn’t just another business owner caught in the storm. She was something else entirely. Which meant the Yakuza would pay—in blood, if necessary.
He felt a triumphant certainty spreading through him, and it must have shown in his eyes because Ava stiffened, her body tense, her pulse racing.
She saw it—the hunger in his gaze, the certainty of a predator locking onto prey.
And worse, she noticed the way his thumb moved against her wrist, not just restraining her but stroking, caressing, as if he’d already claimed her.
The realization rippled through her, sharp and undeniable.
Her breath hitched. She trembled—not only from fear, but from the maddening awareness of him.
“No!” she hissed, her tone defiant, but there was an edge, a crack in her armor.
Luca’s lips curved faintly, his satisfaction barely contained.
He reached out slowly, brushing a finger along the delicate line of her throat, lingering at the pulse that hammered frantically beneath her skin.
He felt the stutter of her heartbeat, the subtle softening of her posture—proof of the conflict tearing through her.
“No, to what?” he murmured, his voice low, intimate.
Luca watched the defiance flash in her eyes, but he felt the truth in the subtle shift of her body—the faintest lean into his touch.
She hated herself for it; he could see that in the hard set of her jaw.
She hated him for dragging this reaction out of her.
And yet, the slight tremor that coursed through her betrayed everything.
The shiver down her spine wasn’t fear alone. It was him.
“No… to whatever you’re going to suggest.”
Luca chuckled. She was stubborn, but that only made her all the more intriguing.
He had seen Ava across the room a year ago, and from that moment, something about her had caught and held his attention.
He’d asked her to dinner that night, but she’d turned him down with that same prickly defiance that she habitually wore like armor.
He hadn’t let that stop him. Luca had backed away, of course, but he hadn’t forgotten her.
Instead, he’d watched from a distance, visited her warehouse, spoken politely with her at business functions, always aware of the electric charge in the air when their hands brushed or their eyes met.
He’d even introduced her to people that could help her grow her business. He had never done that for anyone else.
And every time he touched her, even in the smallest way, Luca had felt her delicious reaction to him. It stirred something in him—a hunger, a need to possess.
Now she was here, in his office, asking for his help, and Luca couldn’t help but appreciate the irony. She’d come to him out of necessity, but there was a deeper layer to it—something he was just starting to understand.
“You have no idea what I’m going to suggest,” he pointed out, backing away with deliberate slowness, releasing her wrist as if the act itself were a reward. He noticed that her hand drifted up to touch the place on her throat he’d just abandoned.
He pressed a button on his desk. “Have breakfast sent in,” he instructed, his voice casual, but his eyes never left her.
“I’m not hungry,” she replied sharply, but Luca only smirked, not bothered in the slightest.
“Of course not,” he said, his gaze trailing over her body, lingering on her round hips, the way the fabric of her dress hugged her in all the right places.
Ava didn’t starve herself, thank goodness.
She was lushly ripe, a perfect contrast to the stick-thin women he had long since grown tired of.
He was not a fan of skinny women. There was no point in holding them.
But Ava was a woman who could fill his hands, who could keep him intrigued for hours with nothing more than her refusal to conform. After meeting her, all of his preferences had changed. Now, every aspect of her appealed to him, even her prickly personality.
Maybe it was because everyone in his world was terrified of him—he’d cultivated that fear for years—but with Ava, that wasn’t the case. She didn’t cower. She fought back.
And yes, Luca had already decided: Ava Santos would become his wife. That had been his plan all along, even if she didn’t know it yet. Every time she rejected him and then trembled at his touch, she reinforced the idea. She had already claimed a place in his life—whether she realized it or not.
Now, it was time to iron out the details. He needed to take control of this situation. And he would.
“I need to get back to work.”
Luca pulled his cell phone from his pocket, his mind already shifting into action.
The first message was to his head of security—Get to Ava’s headquarters.
Establish a perimeter, now. The second was to his housekeeping manager—Go to 713 Sulan Street and clean up the graffiti.
Do it discreetly. His orders were swift, efficient.
This wasn’t just about addressing the immediate problem with the Yakuza.
This was about taking control of the situation in a way that would leave no room for failure.
Ava’s eyes followed his every movement, but Luca didn’t look up. His gaze was fixed on his cell phone, then his computer, his thoughts already moving ahead, planning every step.
“I’m very sorry for…disrupting your morning,” Ava blurted out awkwardly, running a hand down the side of her hip, not sure what to do. She waved toward the exit. “I need to head back to my office,” She tentatively took a step in that direction.
“You have an excellent business manager,” he said absently, sliding his phone into a hidden pocket inside his jacket.
His eyes flicked to her, and there was a strange finality in his voice as he continued, “She can manage your staff while you give me more information, and we can work out the details.”
Ava frowned, clearly confused. “Details of what?”
He leaned back against his desk, folding his arms across his chest, a look of absolute confidence on his face.
“The details for our wedding.”
The words hit the air between them like a slap. For a long, suspended moment, there was nothing but silence. Luca could see the shock flash across her face, her breath catching in her throat as the weight of his words settled in.
He watched her carefully, his lips curling into a faint, knowing smile as he waited for her to process the magnitude of what he had just announced. This was the moment where everything changed.
Ava, for the first time, seemed unsure of herself. Her mouth opened, then closed again as if she couldn’t quite find the words to respond.
Luca wasn’t going to wait for her to find her footing. He had a plan, and he refused to let anything—or anyone—derail it.