Juliana's POV

My heart sank into a pit of despair. "What?!"

This was our home, an elegant townhouse on the Upper East Side. My father ran the trading company that had been in the Rossi family for generations. We had never wanted for anything.

My mother collapsed onto the sofa, her makeup a mess of tear-streaked mascara. "The Feds... there must have been twenty agents. They just stormed in."

Her voice broke. "They said it was fraud and money laundering. The company accounts are frozen, all our assets seized. Jules, we're ruined."

"That's impossible," I said, my throat tightening. "Dad has always run a clean business."

"It was a set-up. Someone framed him." My mother gripped my hand. "You know what happens when you piss off the wrong people. They can do whatever they want."

"The bail is an astronomical sum. If it's a RICO charge, he could rot in jail before he even sees a trial."

My phone vibrated in my pocket. I frowned when I saw Marco's name.

Clenching my jaw, I stepped out onto the front porch.

The night air was cold. A black Maserati, one I knew all too well, was parked under a streetlight.

Seven years I'd spent in that passenger seat. We'd even made love in that car.

Marco leaned against the door, a freshly lit cigarette dangling from his fingertips. The red ember glowed in the dark.

He wore the smug smile of a man who thought he controlled everything.

"You look like hell, Juliana," he said, exhaling a plume of smoke.

"Did you come here to gloat?" I asked coldly, hugging my arms.

"I'm here to help you, baby," he said, closing the distance between us. "I heard about your father. Money laundering is a serious charge."

I lifted my chin and met his eyes. "You know he's innocent."

"In our world, the truth doesn't matter. Money and power do," he shrugged. "I can make it go away. I'll pay the bail, no matter how high. I'll even get the best lawyers to make this disappear."

I took a wary step back. "And what do you want in return?"

Marco never made a deal unless it benefited him. I knew that better than anyone.

A triumphant smirk spread across his face. "It's simple. I want you."

"I marry Isabella, you close your little gallery, and you become my girl on the side. Simple."

I stared at him, stunned. "You want me to be your mistress?"

"But Isabella is going to be your wife!"

"That's an alliance. Business," he said, his voice dropping low. "Don't be so high and mighty, Jules. We're good together. You know how good I am in bed."

His eyes roamed over my body without restraint. "Just say the word, and you'll never have to worry about money again. Your father can be home for dinner tomorrow."

Rage burned through my veins.

"Get the hell out of here," I hissed through my teeth. "I'd rather starve on the streets than be your back-alley slut."

Marco's face turned to stone. He lunged forward, his nose nearly touching mine.

"Don't be a fool."

"Who else is going to help the Rossis?" he sneered. "That's five million in cash for bail. You'll come crawling back to me when you realize your father is about to get his ribs broken in Rikers."

Marco got in his car and sped away.

I stood shivering in the cold wind. I didn't let myself slide to the floor until his taillights were gone.

Five million dollars.

Yesterday, that might not have been a problem. But now, the Rossi family was finished.

The next day, at the Rossi Gallery.

This place, once my pride and joy, now felt hollow. Its shine was gone, tarnished by our family's scandal.

"You look terrible," Sofia said, pushing the door open with two coffees in hand.

"Things have been better," I admitted, my hand trembling as I took the coffee. "Last night was a nightmare."

Sofia was not only my best friend, but also the most well-connected person I knew. She worked at a high-end club owned by the Landini family and had seen her share of dirty dealings.

"I heard about your father. I'm already trying to help you pull some money together," she said, perching on the edge of my desk. "But right now, we need to talk about something else. This is a man's shirt. And this fabric... only a handful of men in New York could afford it."

"So spill. You vanished last night. Where did you go?"

I avoided her gaze, staring into the ripples in my coffee cup. "A waiter spilled wine on me. A man took me to his suite to clean up."

"Whose? Don't you dare tell me it was that bastard Marco."

"It wasn't him."

I couldn't hide it from her. Taking a deep breath, I said the name that still made my heart hammer in my chest.

"Dante Landini."

Sofia's coffee cup almost slipped from her grasp.

"Who?" she shrieked.

Juliana's POV

"Dante Landini?"

Sofia's cup hit the floor, brown liquid splashing across the expensive carpet. "Are you telling me you went to the Landini estate with the Goddamn King of the Underworld?"

I nearly lunged across the desk to cover her mouth. "Keep your voice down, Sof."

"How can I keep my voice down? That's Dante Landini! The man eats people for breakfast!" Sofia worked in a Landini club; she knew the weight of that name better than anyone.

"I didn't have a choice," I said, slumping in my chair, utterly drained. "And that's not even the worst of it."

I told Sofia everything, including Marco's offer to make me his mistress.

"That goddamn animal!" Sofia was shaking with rage. "He wants you on the side? After marrying someone else? I'm going to kill him."

"Killing him won't help. I need money, now." I covered my face with my hands. "There's no way I can come up with five million dollars."

We both fell silent. Then, her face suddenly lit up.

Sofia grabbed my wrist. "Wait. You said Dante gave you his shirt?"

I nodded. "It was to cover myself."

"No, Jules, you don't get how these men think."

"Don't you get it? He's interested in you. A man like that doesn't give a woman his shirt unless he wants the connection to continue. I've worked at his club for years, and you're the first woman I've ever heard of him helping."

I stared at her, dumbfounded. "Dante isn't interested in me. He gave me a jacket because I needed one."

"Why would he care?" Sofia asked. "He's Dante Landini. Besides, you said he kissed you passionately. There was clearly chemistry between you."

"He was a gentleman, but that doesn't mean he's going to hand me five million dollars."

"Money is just a number to a man like him. He doesn't need more of it. He wants a thrill. Something that makes him feel like he's losing control."

Sofia suddenly pulled open her handbag and rummaged inside, producing a small crystal vial.

"This is 'Siren's Kiss,'" she said, her voice low. "It's a pheromone oil. The top girls at the club can't even get their hands on it. They say one drop can drive the most disciplined man wild. Stir up his most primitive, possessive instincts."

I stared at the vial. "You want me to drug him?"

"It's not a drug, it's an enhancer. It just amplifies desire."

"Jules, this is your only chance. Marco wants to humiliate you, to turn you into his cheap plaything. But what if you become Dante Landini's woman?"

"He's Marco's father-in-law," I said, my voice trembling.

"Exactly! It's the perfect revenge!" Sofia gripped my shoulders. "Go tonight. Wear your sexiest dress, use this, and tell Dante you're his. If you have to sell yourself, at least sell to the most powerful man in New York."

It was the craziest decision I had ever made in my life.

That evening, I stood before the heavy, fortress-like doors of the Landini estate.

A black trench coat was wrapped tightly around my body. Underneath, I wore nothing but an expensive set of black lace lingerie, which I had originally bought for my wedding night.

Following Sofia's instructions, I had dabbed the oil behind my ears, on my wrists, and at the hollow of my throat.

The scent was faint, yet it carried a sweet, intoxicating note that, mixed with my body heat, made even my own head feel a little dizzy.

Inside the high-ceilinged foyer, a housekeeper in a crisp black uniform looked me up and down. Her gaze lingered on my worn heels and the way I clutched my coat.

"I'm here to see Don Landini."

"Do you have an appointment?"

"No, but..."

"Then I must ask you to leave. Countless women come here demanding to see the Don. He is a busy man and has no time for girls trying to climb into his bed." She dismissed me without a second glance.

My cheeks burned with shame. As I stood there, unsure of what to do, the heavy double doors of a side hall swung open.

But then a man's low voice cut through the air. "Who gave you the authority to turn away my guest?"

Juliana's POV

"Don Landini," the housekeeper said, her head bowing instantly.

"I asked you a question, Maria," he said, his voice holding an authority that allowed no argument. "You are to inform me when I have a visitor, not dismiss them on your own." His gaze fell on me. "Come with me."

I followed him down a lavish corridor. Carved stone pillars, imported Italian marble floors, and priceless classical oil paintings on the walls.

"My time is valuable, Miss Rossi," he said, gesturing to an elevator. "I'm granting you a moment of it. Now, come."

He led me into a massive private study. The walls were lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, and a beautifully carved solid wood desk sat in the center.

Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the setting sun painted the New York skyline in shades of gold and red.

He wore a crisp white Italian shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing the hard, lean muscles of his forearms. My eyes lingered a second too long.

"Ahem."

A soft cough snapped me back. He was watching me, a playful smirk on his lips.

"Speak," he said simply. "You went to great lengths to get in here. What is it you want?"

"I need money," I said, getting straight to the point. "My father was framed and jailed. The bail is five million dollars. I know that's nothing to you."

He said nothing, just watched me quietly, as if assessing the value of an item for sale.

"And why should I help a stranger?"

This was it. The moment of truth.

I took a deep breath and slowly untied the belt of my trench coat.

My hands trembled as I untied the belt. The coat slid open, the scent of the oil wafting into the air, revealing the black lace lingerie beneath.

The cool air on so much bare skin made me shiver.

"I know what a man like you wants," I whispered, rising on my toes to get closer to his ear. "I'm clean. A virgin. Just save my father."

I could feel his body tense, hear his breath hitch.

"You can have me. All of me."

My heart was hammering against my ribs.

Dante grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward him.

I thought he was going to kiss me.

Instead, he bent down, picked up the coat from the floor, and draped it back over my shoulders.

"I don't like artificial scents," he said, his voice cold. "And I don't trade in bodies."

Heat flooded my face. I was drowning in shame.

"I thought..."

"I don't need a woman who can be bought," he cut me off, his eyes laced with disappointment. "Especially not one who arrives gift-wrapped like a cheap delivery."

"You..."

"Listen to me, Juliana," he said, his fingers gripping my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. "I have a daughter. I taught her to have pride. Dignity. I thought you were a woman of substance."

His words were a slap across my face.

He was right. I had turned myself into the very type of woman I despised.

He released me and pressed a button on his desk intercom. "Security, see our guest out."

Footsteps approached from behind. "Please escort Miss Rossi out," Dante said without turning around.

I bit my lip, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. "I'm sorry to have bothered you."

I turned and fled.

To earn the money, I took a job Sofia found for me at a VIP underground club. One owned by the Landini family.

"This job will definitely make you a lot of money. The tips from the clients here are insane," Sofia said, patting my shoulder.

I looked down at the uniform. A black miniskirt so tight it was suffocating and a top with a neckline so low it was an open invitation for men to undress me with their eyes.

But I had no choice. I needed the money.

"Get in there. Some high rollers just took the back booth," the manager said, shoving me forward.

I took a deep breath, held my tray steady, and pushed open the door to the smoke-filled booth.

When my eyes adjusted and I saw the face of the man sitting in the center, my blood ran cold.

Sitting on the sofa were Marco and several of his men.