The mansion was silent. Too silent. Even the shadows seemed to hold their breath, waiting.
Aria had spent the day pacing, her mind replaying the journal, the photographs, and Luciano's intense gaze. She couldn't escape the feeling that the walls themselves were closing in, that every corner hid a secret she wasn't ready for.
A sudden knock at her door made her jump.
"Enter," she called cautiously.
The door opened slowly. A servant stepped in, holding a small wooden box. No words were spoken. Aria took it hesitantly. The box was light, deceptively ordinary. She opened it—and froze.
Inside was a note:
"A test. Fail, and you lose more than pride. Succeed, and you earn a piece of the life you wish to reclaim."
Her pulse spiked. She didn't need to ask who sent it. The signature, the handwriting, the weight of the words—they were all Luciano.
Before she could react, the door clicked shut. Luciano stood behind her, silent as a shadow. His dark eyes held that familiar intensity, that predatory edge that made her chest ache and her stomach twist.
"You will play, Aria," he said softly, voice smooth but commanding. "Every move is observed. Every decision… matters."
She shook her head, trembling. "I don't understand. Why?"
"Because," he replied, stepping closer, "you cannot survive in my world unless you understand it. And I cannot let you leave this mansion—or my life—unprepared. Consider this a… lesson."
Her eyes widened as he gestured to the hallway. She followed cautiously, the box clutched tightly in her hands. The hallway was lined with mirrors, each reflecting the dim candlelight. She felt exposed, watched, vulnerable.
"You will navigate this," he said, voice soft, almost teasing. "Traps, riddles, obstacles… all designed to test your mind, your courage… and your resolve."
Aria swallowed hard. Her heart raced. This was more than a game. It was a challenge she couldn't refuse, and yet feared.
"Do not fail," he murmured, close enough that she could feel the heat from his body. "Every mistake will cost you… something you cannot imagine."
Her legs shook, but she forced herself forward, stepping into the first room.
Mirrors lined the walls, concealing hidden pressure plates. A single wrong step would trigger alarms—Luciano's traps were notorious. She moved slowly, calculating, heart hammering. Every sound, every reflection, reminded her that he was watching, guiding, judging.
Halfway through, she stumbled. A hidden plate clicked beneath her foot. A soft alarm echoed. Her breath caught.
Luciano appeared instantly, behind her, hands on her shoulders. The contact was brief, but it sent shivers down her spine.
"You are reckless," he whispered, almost in warning, almost in praise. "Do not let fear control you… or desire."
Desire. That word made her blood run hot. She couldn't look at him, but she felt his gaze searing into her. She wanted to run, yet every instinct urged her to stay.
The rest of the game was a blur—tests of agility, intellect, and nerves. Aria survived each one, barely, guided by instinct and terror. At the end, she stood before him, chest heaving, hands trembling.
Luciano studied her, expression unreadable. Then, with a slow, deliberate smile, he said:
"You passed."
Her relief was immediate—but so was the danger. The intensity in his eyes was still there, hotter, more consuming.
"You've earned a place at my table," he murmured, voice low, intimate. "But remember—every step from here on is mine to watch. Every choice… mine to influence."
Alone later, Aria sat on the edge of her bed, trembling. Fear. Exhaustion. Desire. Confusion. They all tangled together.
She hated him. She feared him. And yet… she couldn't deny that the game had drawn her closer, that the danger made her pulse race, and that a piece of her… had begun to belong to him.
The Devil's heir had claimed her attention, her mind, and perhaps—though she would never admit it—her heart.
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