Forever yours, Selena

Italy felt different at night.

The streets were louder, warmer, and alive in a way Selena still wasn’t used to. Golden lights shimmered against the rain-slicked pavement, while distant laughter echoed through the narrow alleys outside her hotel window. Somewhere nearby, soft music drifted from an open trattoria, blending with the low hum of passing scooters and rapid Italian conversations that moved far too fast for her exhausted mind to follow.

Selena stood in front of the vanity mirror, staring at her reflection for a few long seconds before exhaling a slow breath.

Maybe coming here had been a mistake.

New country. New university. New people. A completely new life she wasn’t even sure she deserved.

Suddenly, her phone lit up on the nightstand.

Mom Calling.

Selena closed her eyes, letting the screen flash in the dim room before ruthlessly declining the call.

“I just need one quiet night,” she whispered to the empty room. The silence that followed felt heavy, almost suffocating.

After slipping into a silk, deep burgundy dress that hugged her curves flawlessly, she headed downstairs to the hotel bar. The venue was breathtaking—elegant, expensive, and drenched in old-money luxury. Dim amber lights caught the edges of crystal glassware while soft jazz drifted through the warm air. Wealth practically lived inside these walls.

Selena took a seat at the polished mahogany counter. “A whiskey, please,” she said softly.

The bartender hesitated, his eyes lingering on her for a split second, clearly surprised that a girl her age was ordering it neat. Still, he poured the amber liquid and slid the crystal glass across the wood.

Selena wrapped her fingers around the glass, staring into the dark liquor. Her thoughts were unbearable tonight. Everything she had tried to leave behind in Greece had followed her here like a shadow.

The manipulation. The toxic relationships. The exhausting, hollow feeling that people only stuck around when they wanted something from her.

For once, she just wanted silence. Nothing more.

Then, the atmosphere in the room shifted.

The guards near the entrance instantly straightened. Guests lowered their voices to hushed whispers, and a few looked away entirely, suddenly terrified to make eye contact.

Selena frowned slightly, glancing over her shoulder.

A tall man walked in, flanked by a small group of men in sharp, tailored black suits. He had dark hair, a cold, striking expression, and eyes so dark they looked completely unreadable. Power and danger followed him like a physical presence, commanding the entire room without saying a word.

He didn’t look at anyone. Until his gaze landed on her.

It was only for a fraction of a second. But it felt a lifetime longer.

Selena was the first to look away, her heart skipping an unexpected, violent beat. The man continued toward the private outdoor lounge, his men trailing closely behind.

She released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Who the hell was that…?” she muttered under her breath.

The bartender suddenly looked incredibly tense as he frantically wiped down the counter. “You should drink slowly, signorina,” he warned in a hushed, anxious tone.

Selena blinked. “What?”

“Nothing.”

Weird. Very weird. Still, she brushed the unease off and took a sip.

About twenty minutes later, her glass was nearly empty when someone slid onto the barstool next to her. Blond hair. Mid-thirties. Far too confident, and smelling of cheap cologne.

“You’re not from around here,” he said, leaning in entirely too close to her personal space.

Selena forced a polite, icy smile. “Is it that obvious?”

“A little.” He chuckled, signaling the bartender with a lazy wave. “Another one for the lady.”

Selena’s brow furrowed. “No, thank you. I’m good.”

“Come on, it’s just a drink. Don’t be like that.”

She hesitated, desperately wanting to avoid making a scene in a strange country, and gave a tight nod. “Thanks.”

The bartender looked visibly uncomfortable while pouring the fresh drink, but Selena was too distracted by her own racing thoughts to notice the warning signs.

From the private outdoor section, Ryan Moretti noticed. His sharp eyes narrowed through the glass partition.

He watched as the stranger’s hand moved smoothly over Selena’s glass. Too fast. Too practiced. A tiny pill slipped between the man’s fingers and dissolved instantly into the liquor.

Ryan’s expression darkened into something lethal. One of his men caught the sudden, dangerous shift in his posture. “Boss?”

But Ryan was already on his feet.

Inside the bar, Selena picked up the fresh drink and took a small sip. Seconds later, a heavy, suffocating wave of dizziness hit her. Her vision blurred instantly, the entire room tilting on its axis.

“What the…”

The stranger moved closer, his hand sliding predatory-like toward her waist. “You okay, beautiful? Let me help you upstairs.”

Selena tried to stand, but her knees completely gave out. Before the man’s fingers could even touch her skin, a strong, heavy hand clamped around the stranger’s wrist like a steel vice.

The entire bar went dead silent. You could hear a pin drop.

Ryan stood over him, looking absolutely terrifying. “Touch her again,” he said, his voice a low, gravelly growl that vibrated with pure malice, “and I’ll bury you myself.”

The stranger’s face instantly drained of all color. “Mr. Moretti, I swear I—I didn’t mean—”

Ryan twisted his wrist. A sickening crack echoed through the silent bar, and the man gasped in agonizing pain. “I saw what you dropped in her glass.”

Nobody moved. Nobody dared to breathe.

Selena’s head felt too heavy to lift; her eyes struggled to focus on the dark silhouette in front of her. Ryan finally shoved the man away with pure disgust, as if he were nothing but trash.

“Get him out of my sight.”

Two of Ryan’s guards immediately stepped forward, dragging the sobbing stranger toward the exit. Selena blinked slowly, fighting a losing battle against the heavy drug coursing through her veins.

“You…” she breathed.

Ryan looked down at her. For a fraction of a second, the harsh, dangerous lines of his face softened. Barely.

“You can’t even stand,” he noted, his deep voice dropping to a low murmur.

“I’m fine,” she slurred, stubbornly trying to push past him. But the moment she took a step, her body collapsed forward.

Ryan caught her effortlessly against his chest, the rich burgundy silk of her dress spilling over his dark, expensive suit. His jaw clenched tight. “Clearly.”

Without another word, he scooped her into his arms, lifting her bridal-style. Selena was too weak to protest, her head falling naturally against his broad shoulder. She looked up through heavy eyelids, tracing his sharp jawline.

“You’re scary,” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.

Behind them, one of Ryan’s hardened men choked back a surprised cough. But Ryan kept his eyes fixed ahead, ignoring his crew entirely.

“And you talk too much.”

A weak, breathless laugh escaped her lips. A genuine, innocent laugh. Ryan hated how fast that sound hit him—right in the chest.

The elevator ride upstairs was dead silent. When they reached her suite, Ryan carried her inside, placing her down gently onto the plush mattress. Selena was already drifting off into unconsciousness.

“Drink some water when you wake up,” he commanded softly, staring down at her.

She gave a barely perceptible nod, her eyes fully closing.

Ryan turned to leave, but his hand froze on the doorknob. Something felt wrong. Not a security threat. Something worse. Something intensely personal.

Slowly, he looked back over his shoulder one last time. Blonde hair tangled beautifully across the white pillow. Green eyes completely hidden beneath her lashes. She had absolutely no idea what she was already doing to him.

Ryan frowned at himself, a rare flash of frustration crossing his dark features. “I should leave.”

Yet, he stood there for several long seconds, just watching the steady rise and fall of her chest. Finally, he forced himself to turn and walked out, closing the door softly behind him.

He didn’t notice the heavy, engraved silver cufflink slipping from his pocket, landing silently on the carpet right beside her bed.