Chapter 2 Chapter 2

Chapter 2 Chapter 2
I slam the front door shut behind me and kick off my shoes, heart still pounding from what happened at the office, from his voice echoing in my head. I feel disgusted and I want to cry out loud. 
I don’t even make it to the stairs before I hear him.
“Lily.”
My father’s voice slices through the air like a knife. He makes me even more angry. 
He steps into the hallway, arms crossed, dressed in one of his usual tailored suits as if he’s running for some invisible office. He’s always composed. Always cold. Always serious about everything which doesn’t make sense.
“How was your first day?”
I blink at him, eyes filling up, jaw tightening. “You want to know how it was?” My voice is loud.
He narrows his eyes slightly. “Yes.”
Tears slip down my cheeks before I can stop them. “He… he stripped me, Dad.” My voice cracks, and I hate that it does. “Your friend. Your connection. He accused me of being a spy. Said I was there to expose his empire and pulled a gun on me!”
My father exhales slowly, looking almost… unsurprised. Nothing bothers him. 
“He messaged me already,” he says calmly. “Said it was a misunderstanding. Apparently, there’s someone else in the company feeding intel to a rival group and cops. Since you were a new face, he assumed it was you.”
“Of course he did.” I scoff bitterly, wiping my cheeks. “Because humiliating the new girl is protocol?”
“He regrets it,” my father says, tone still emotionless. “He said he apologized.” He adds.
“I don’t care if he weeps blood,” I snap. “I’m not going back there. I’ll focus on university. I don’t have time for your power games or mafia ties or whatever this was supposed to be.”
I pause and my breath is shaking.
“Just leave me alone.” I shout.
There’s a long silence. My father studies me. Then he nods. “Fine.”
I turn away and head upstairs, my legs barely carrying me. The moment my bedroom door shuts, I collapse on the bed and cry until I’m too exhausted to think.
The next morning, I wake up early, my entire body feel sore and lifeless from all the crying last night. All my energy is gone.
Everything inside me still feels raw, like I’ve been scraped hollow. My limbs are heavy, but I force myself out of bed. I head for the shower, hoping the hot water will wash away the memory of yesterday.
It doesn’t.
I towel off and pull on a pair of high-waisted shorts and a lilac coat that buttons at the center. My go-to white Adidas sneakers match the white backpack I sling over one shoulder.
I glance at myself in the mirror. My hair is in soft waves, layered in front so the strands near my face fall just to my shoulders. From the front, it makes it look shorter, like I have cut it. But from behind, it still falls in long dark lengths down my back.
You’re fine. You’re safe. Just go to class. Forget him. You don’t even know him. I try to comfort myself.
I head downstairs. Violet—my stepmother—is already seated at the breakfast table in her red silk robe, sipping green juice and scrolling through her tablet.
“Oh, good morning, Lily,” she says in her overly sweet tone. “I made pancakes.” She says with a warm smile.
“I’m not hungry.” I grab a granola bar from the marble island instead and walk straight toward the garage without another word.
I pull up outside Bella’s townhouse and tap the horn once and wait. 
She appears within seconds, always perfectly put together. Her hair is in a sleek ponytail, sunglasses perched on her head. She’s holding two coffee cups and a smile.
Belladonna Torricelli, my best friend since the first day of university orientation.
She’s everything I’m not: confident, bold, born into a powerful aristocratic crime family… and yet the kindest soul I’ve met in New York. She is like a rose, beautiful, soft and sharp like the thorns. 
She hops in the passenger seat and hands me the coffee. “Caramel latte. Extra sugar. Because you have probably cried all your salt out yesterday.” She mentions once she is seated in the car.
I manage a weak smile. “Thanks.”
“So…” she eyes me, raising a brow. “How was the job?”
I take a breath. “It was… traumatizing.”
Bella pauses, lifting her sunglasses off. “That bad?”
I nod, hands tightening on the wheel as I pull onto the road.
“The boss… he stripped me. Thought I was a spy sent by someone. Accused me of trying to infiltrate his company. It was insane. Like… actual psychotic level stuff.” I tell her. 
Bella nearly chokes on her sip. “He what? That perverted bastard…who even does that?!” She spits out in rage.
“He wasn’t old either,” I say quickly. “He looked… young. Late twenties, maybe early thirty?”
She blinks. “Wait. What was his name again?” She asks while I concentrate on the road.
“Sebastian.”
She sits upright. “Sebastian Manchini?” She asks.
I glance over at her, confused. “Yeah. Why?”
Bella stares at me like I just told her I had lunch with the Pope.
“Fucking no. Lily, Sebastian Manchini is the mafia king of New York. The Manchini. Girls literally fake criminal records just to get his attention.”
My mouth goes dry. “Excuse me?” Do girl really like a devil like him that much? I could never.
“I’ve known him since I was five. Our families run in similar circles.” She shakes her head in disbelief. “And he stripped you?”
“Well,” I mutter, “he thought I was a threat to his empire.”
Bella gives me a flat look. “You? Who cries over missing deadlines?” She starts laughing. 
I laugh bitterly. “Exactly.”
She exhales, brushing her hair back. “Look. Sebastian’s not… known for softness. But he’s also not known for being reckless either. Something must’ve really rattled him to do what he did.”
I stare out the windshield.
“Still doesn’t excuse it.”
“No,” she agrees. “It doesn’t. But if he messaged your father and admitted his mistake… that’s saying something. For Sebastian, that’s a rare thing.”
My fingers tap against the steering wheel. My mind flashes with the image of his eyes narrowing, the way he said “do as I say”, the cold press of the gun against my head, the disbelief in his voice when he realized I wasn’t lying.
“He scares the hell out of me, Bella.” I utter. 
Bella softens, reaching over to squeeze my hand. “You don’t have to see him again. He messed up. But you get to choose what happens now.”
I nod slowly.
And I do choose.
I’m walking away from Sebastian Manchini. I don’t want to see him again. 
The drive to campus is short, but the tension clings to me like a second skin. My mind keeps circling the same memory, of his cold eyes, the gun, his touch.
Bella tries to keep things light, humming along to the music and occasionally throwing glances at me, but I can’t focus on anything. Not today. I am not in the mood. 
I pull into our usual parking spot at the far end of the university lot, shaded by tall sycamore trees. Students rush past, their laughter echoing, and their backpacks swinging carelessly. I envy their freedom and their ability to be normal.
We step out of the car, the morning sun hitting the concrete, and head across campus toward our lecture building. Everything feels normal until we reach the main hallway.
There’s a buzz in the air with voices bouncing off the walls.
A poster taped to the glass door catches Bella’s eye. She grabs my arm and reads it aloud.
“‘Special Seminar: Guest Speech from Young CEO & Entrepreneur—Today at 10 a.m. All business students must attend.’”
I groan. “A speech? Seriously?” I am too not fine for this.
Bella smirks. “Maybe it’ll be someone hot.” She is already taking me toward the hall.
We make our way toward the large lecture hall, where fresher’s are already crowding the seats. The room is huge with tiered rows of desks, tall windows letting in sharp daylight, and a wide stage at the front with a podium.
We grab two seats near the middle. I sink into my chair with a sigh, setting my bag on the floor.
The room grows louder as more students pour in, whispering excitedly. Phones are out. Selfies. Snapchat filters. Everyone’s waiting for this so-called prodigy CEO to walk in.
And then he does.
The air leaves my lungs. I can’t breathe. My palms becomes sweaty. 
Sebastian Manchini enters the room. Broad shoulder, hair slicked back and sharp expression on his face.
My body stiffens.
He strides into the room with deadly grace, dressed in an all-black suit that fits him like a sin. No tie. The top button of his shirt undone just enough to reveal the sharp lines of his throat.
He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t need to.
The room goes silent the moment he steps onto the stage.
I can’t breathe.
What the hell is he doing here?
Bella leans in close, her breath tickling my ear. “It looks like you want to stay far away from him, but destiny has other plans for you both.” She giggles like this is one of her mafia soap operas.
I hiss, “Shut up.”
My fingers curl into a tight fist in my lap.
I hate him.
And yet, my eyes betray me.
He’s presence feels magnetic and dangerous.
And then his eyes finds me in the crowded hall.
From all the faces in the room, his eyes lock on mine.
A jolt runs down my spine. I remember the heat of his touch on my skin, the cold metal of the gun against my forehead. I remember the look in his eyes when he realized I wasn’t lying. That flicker of regret.
And now? There’s something else.
Recognition. Possession.
His gaze lingers.
Don’t look away, my pride whispers.
Don’t let him win.
I bite my lip hard and hold his stare for one second too long before finally tearing my eyes away. My heart thuds like a warning drum.
He begins speaking. His voice is like gravel and silk.
“Good morning. My name is Sebastian Manchini, and I’m the founder and CEO of Manchini Global Holdings. At twenty-nine, I’ve failed more times than I can count—and built more than anyone expected.”
The class hangs onto every word. But not me.
I don’t hear most of it. It’s all motivational fluff about ambition, risk, hard work, and whatever. A crafted mask, just like the man wearing it. I already know the darkness that hides beneath that perfectly tailored suit.
And yet, he keeps looking at me. Subtle. Measured. But steady.
Why?
To intimidate me? To mess with me more? To say something without words?
I don’t know. And I don’t care.
I cross my arms and look away.
But inside, I’m burning.
Not from desire.
Not even from fear.
From rage.
Because no matter how rich, powerful, or devastatingly beautiful Sebastian Manchini is… he stole something from me yesterday.
And I’ll never forgive him for it.