Reborn as His Well-Behaved Temptation

Cesare Xandri, the rising gangster of the Nalitan mafia, unexpectedly lost a bet at an elite private casino in Ithel, the kind that smells like cigar smoke and blood money. The penalty was simple, he had to call his hard-to-tame pet.

The phone was on speaker. The men circled him, whistling and hooting, waiting to be entertained. He asked what I was up to in a relaxed and amused tone. I replied softly, insinuating he was sinful, hiding my defiance behind innocence and fake devotion. When I finished my insult, the room fell silent, then burst into loud and uncontrollable laughter.

The call ended. Less than thirty minutes later, the mansion gates were smashed open.

He stormed in smelling of gunpowder, a Beretta still in his hand. He pushed me against the wall furiously beneath the Virgin Mary statue. I leaned into him without hesitation, fingers brushing the heated gun, and I met his gaze without fear.

I chose virtue and rejected him in my past life, in return I was thrown into the open sea to die.

I intended to be his temptation when I got a second chance at life, I wanted to be a beautiful sin that ends his story under the Cecilian sun.

It was late at night in Koma, and the air smelled of salt from the sea.

Cesare pinned me into the corner of the wall in front of the angel statue. The cold muzzle of a Beretta was pressed hard against my chin.

"How dare you use God as an excuse to avoid me, Rene Santoro?" he accused.

He reeked of alcohol, and there were dark, dried bloodstains on his shirt. I did not know whose blood it was, only that it came from the raid he led on the Blue Note gang earlier that night.

I had screamed in fear at that demonic version of him in my past life. I cried and cursed him as a monster. In return, he broke my leg himself and locked me in a basement, forcing me to fight vicious dogs for food.

I looked straight into his eyes that were menacingly red. I did not pull away in this life. Instead, I pushed my chin closer to the gun.

I sneered and slid my soft fingers into his shirt.

"It hurts, Cesare," I said.

My voice was sweet and soft, almost tempting, mixed with restrained and shallow breaths.

"I saw how tired you were after fighting tonight, and I felt bad for you. I just wanted God to protect you. How is that avoiding you?" I asked.

His hand shook.

Suspicion filled his gaze.

I had always been cold and prideful in his mind. However, my eyes beguiled him like a flower that bloomed on a rotten corpse.

"What trick are you playing now, Rene?" he asked with a cold sneer.

Still, he lowered the gun without realizing it.

His large hand tore my robe open and threw me hard onto the expensive antique-style carpet.

There was no gentleness–only the rough force of a wild beast that violently took.

The pain made me dig my nails deep into my palms. Blood seeped through my fingers and stained the white wool carpet red.

However, I did not cry. I did not push him away.

I also wrapped myself around his waist and whispered disgusting words of affection into his ear, words that made me feel sick.

I felt like as long as I could make him drop his guard, as long as I could stay alive and take revenge, the pain meant nothing.

The phone in his pocket rang just as things grew intense.

It was the special ringtone he had set for Winter Luciani.

Cesare Xandri stopped.

He did not hesitate to pull away from my body. The sudden emptiness and tearing pain made me curl into a ball.

"What's wrong, Winter?" he asked softly into the phone.

His voice was so gentle that it made my skin crawl. He sounded nothing like the beast from moments ago.

"The people at the theatre bullied me, Cesare. They said my violin playing was bad, and they cut my hand. It hurts so much," cried Winter on the other end.

"Don't cry. I'll be right there. Whoever laid a finger on you will pay with their life," said Cesare.

He did not spare me a glance, who was lying half-naked on the carpet.

He quickly fastened his belt and secured his gun again.

I endured the sharp pain in my body and crawled over, grabbing the leg of his suit pants.

"Don't go, Cesare…" I begged.

My voice was hoarse, filled with a kind of humility I never had in my past life.

"Tonight is our third anniversary of running away to Ithel. You promised you'd stay with me," I said.

He turned back.

There was no desire left in his eyes, only disgust.

He lifted his foot and used the tip of his leather shoe to tilt my face up.

"You should know your place, Rene. Winter is a cloud in the sky, and you are only a dog that I own. A dog should act like a dog; don't dream of negotiating with the owner," he said.

He shoved me away, and my forehead slammed onto the base of the angel statue.

The door closed.

The manor fell into dead silence.

I laid on the cold floor, watching blood drip from my forehead, slowly staining the white roses at the feet of the statue.

I laughed.

My body shook from laughing, and tears would not stop falling.

'This is your idea of love, Cesare. In this life, on this sinful land, I will bury everything you have,' I swore in my heart.