Nico De santis pov:
The file came through just past midnight.
Marco didn't disappoint.
I sat alone in my penthouse office, city lights glowing behind me, casting long shadows across the floor. The tablet screen glowed in my hand as I scrolled through the report.
*Marin Sorella.*
*Twenty.*
*Raised in a religious care home. No job history. No education past sixteen. No record. No attachments.*
*Unclaimed.*
*Unprotected.*
*Pure.*
The kind of girl that should have stayed hidden behind chapel walls.
But fate had a twisted sense of humor—because she walked right into *my* den.
I leaned back in my chair, letting the image of her from earlier flash across my mind. That innocent fear in her eyes. That trembling voice. That body barely contained in lace and fishnet, walking around like she had no idea she was breathing sin.
And now?
*She was mine to study. Mine to shape. Mine to take.*
I opened the audio file Marco sent and played it on low volume. His voice confirmed it all.
*"This girl's fresh off the altar."*
A dark smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.
I picked up my phone and dialed Gabby.
She answered quickly, slurring slightly. "Boss?"
"Put Marin on shifts near the VIP area. Keep it subtle. I want her on the floor when I'm there."
Gabby hesitated. "That girl's a little…skittish. She already ran off once."
"Then don't spook her," I said coldly. "Let her think she's just another girl on rotation."
A pause.
Then, "Yes, boss."
I ended the call.
*Let her stay soft for now.*
Let her breathe in the illusion of control.
Because the more she walks near the fire…
The easier it'll be to burn her slowly.
And when she finally looks at me not with fear—but need?
*That's when I'll make her mine.*
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