He Wants Me Dead Or Alive

Rosa's POV

I knew the second we pulled up to the penthouse that my stupid little Kylie act was about to crash and burn spectacularly.

I tried everything. I crossed my arms, planted my feet, told Raffaele I wasn't stepping foot inside that glass tower because "I have my own place, thanks very much." He just raised one perfect eyebrow, opened the passenger door like a gentleman assassin, and said, "Get out of the car, Kylie, or I carry you. I know you live here."

I got out. Fast.

The elevator ride up felt like a funeral procession. Him leaning against the mirrored wall, arms folded, watching me like I was a puzzle he already solved. Me staring at the floor numbers like they owed me money.

The doors slid open.

And there she was.

"ROSA!!" Kylie shrieked, bare feet slapping marble as she flew toward me, tears streaming, arms wide. "You're alive! Oh my God, you're alive!"

I let out the fakest, squeakiest "Yaaay" in history, mostly because Raffaele's stare was burning holes through the back of my skull.

Kylie crashed into me, hugging so tight I smelled her vanilla shampoo and felt her shaking. Behind her, Luca appeared like the devil in cashmere, already shrugging off his jacket to drape a shawl around her shoulders like she was made of frost.

"Baby, you'll catch a cold," he murmured, tucking her against his side, eyes soft only for her.

Raffaele's gaze never left me.

"What the fuck is going on?" he asked, voice low, dangerous, the kind of quiet that makes your stomach drop.

Luca frowned. Kylie blinked up at him, confused.

Raffaele jerked his chin toward me. "She told me her name is Kylie Rivers. Your fiancée."

Kylie's mouth fell open. "Rosa?"

I winced.

Luca's head snapped toward me. "Rosa?"

Raffaele's eyes narrowed to slits. "So she's not Kylie."

Kylie burst into fresh tears. "No! She's my best friend! She... she saved me!"

Raffaele looked at me like I'd personally insulted his entire bloodline. "Explain; Now."

Kylie was already talking, words tumbling over each other. "Okay okay, rewind, rewind twenty-four hours, please."

I sighed. Might as well get it over with.

So here's the real introduction, the one I should have given him in that filthy warehouse instead of playing dress-up with someone else's life.

My name is Rosa Stewart. I'm twenty-one, national bronze Medalist in sparring, second-year at the police university, training to be a detective because I want to put people like Luca Navarro behind bars. Kylie is...was, until Luca proposed, my roommate, my best friend since freshman orientation when she decided I looked lonely and glued herself to my side like glitter. She studies forensic medicine, which means she's brilliant, sweet, and completely hopeless in a crisis.

And then there's the package deal: Luca.

I hated him on sight. Tall, dark, too handsome for his own good, too sure of himself, studying criminal law at a police university while secretly running half the city's underworld.

How? I still don't know. How does a mafia prince walk around quoting case law in lecture halls without anyone noticing? Magic, probably. Or really good bribes.

He was obsessive about Kylie from day one. No guy got within three feet of her. He picked her clothes, her schedule, her coffee order. At first I thought it was creepy as hell. Then I saw how she lit up around him, how she smiled softer, laughed louder.

She was happy. Disgustingly, grossly happy.

So I tolerated him. Barely.

Last night changed everything.

Luca texted Kylie he'd be late. We were studying in their ridiculous penthouse-crime scene photos spread across the marble island, cold pizza, me in sweats, Kylie in one of Luca's shirts that swallowed her.

Then the lights flickered.

Glass shattered downstairs.

Heavy boots sound followed by men shouting in Italian.

Kylie froze. "Rosa..."

I grabbed her wrist. "Hide in the Bathroom. Now."

She was shaking so bad she could barely move. I shoved her into the walk-in closet instead, pushed her behind the rows of designer dresses, whispered, "Stay quiet. Do not come out."

The door burst open.

Three men, all masked and holding guns.

"Where is she?" one barked. "The fiancée."

I stepped out before they could search. Heart hammering, and my hands up.

"I'm here," I said, voice steady even though my knees were jelly. "Please don't hurt me."

They didn't question it. Just grabbed me and sealed my lip with duct tape. Black bag over my head as they dragged me out.

I heard Kylie sobbing behind the closet door the whole time. I almost yelled SHUT UP!

And that's it. That's how I ended up in a warehouse getting cursed at in Italian, waiting to die for a girl who's too soft to survive this world, and how I ended up lying to the wrong Navarro brother.

Back to now.

Kylie finishes her tear-soaked version. Everyone's staring at me. Then Luca takes Kylie inside whispering something about getting her coffee.

Raffaele tilts his head. "So. You're not Kylie."

I shrug, trying for casual. "I lied. Got caught. Big deal. Thanks for the rescue, by the way. You didn't die on me. We're even. Hope we never see each other again."

I turn to leave.

He moves faster than I expect.

One step and he's in my space, crowding me against the hallway wall, one hand braced above my head, the other hovering near my hip. Not touching. Just close enough that I feel the heat rolling off him, smell gunpowder and expensive cologne and something darker underneath.

My breath snags.

"That," he says, voice velvet and steel, "is the opposite of what I want, Rosa."

I swallow. "Yeah? And what do you want?"

His eyes drop to my mouth, then climb back up. Slowly, he wanted me to see the way he looked at me.

"I'm not sorry to say..." He leans in until his lips brush the shell of my ear. "I don't think I can let you go."

My heart stops.

The penthouse suddenly feels too small, too quiet, too full of him.

And I realize, with a sick little thrill, that I might not want him to.