If Tori had one real friend, it was Vega Black.
Daughter of the man who owned her soul.
The irony wasn't lost on Tori. Her best friend was the princess of the organisation that kept her in chains. But Vega didn't know—couldn't know. The mafia kept family spotless, separated from the blood and darkness.
While Tori killed for freedom, Vega managed celebrities and lived in blissful ignorance.
She had received a text from Vega asking her to come to the film set. She wondered why, but hoped it was not one of her acting schemes.
—
The film set exploded with chaos. Directors screaming. Assistants running. And actors—God, the actors—perched on thrones like gods demanding sacrifices.
"Tori!"
Auburn hair and a smile that could sell anything. Vega waved frantically.
Tori cut through the crowd. "What scheme are you dragging me into this time?"
"Rude! Don't I get a hug?"
Before Tori could protest, Vega crashed into her, arms crushing ribs. Tori grunted. Vega only hugged like this when something was wrong.
"Spill." Tori pulled back. "What happened?"
"Nothing! I just—" Vega's eyes sparkled dangerously. "Did you see him? Up close? Is he as terrifying as they say?"
"I can't discuss missions. Your father's rule, not mine."
"Come on! Just a hint?"
Tori sat, watching an actress hurl a coffee cup at her trembling assistant. The liquid splashed across the girl's shirt. No apology. Just contempt.
"Your industry is disgusting."
"That's Lira Knox." Vega's voice dropped. "The actress who tried to seduce Bell Royal six months ago."
Tori's attention snapped back. "What?"
"Oh, you don't know?" Vega leaned in conspiratorially. "She showed up at his penthouse. Threw herself at him. He had security drag her out and leaked the story to every news outlet in the country. Destroyed her reputation overnight."
Tori's stomach twisted. That was the man she'd be living with. A man who crushed people for sport.
"Why would he do that?"
"Because he could." Vega shrugged. "Anyway, I got you an apartment at—"
"I can't use it."
"Why not?"
"I'm moving in with him."
Silence.
Then Vega exploded. "*WHAT?!*"
Half the set turned to stare.
"You're living with the Devil? Are you insane? What happened to staying alive?"
"He made an offer."
"What kind of offer could possibly—"
"A million dollars."
Vega's mouth snapped shut. Her expression cycled through shock, understanding, then pure calculation. She sat back down and crossed her legs.
"Okay. When do you move in?"
Tori almost smiled. "Tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?! That's—wait." Vega grabbed her wrist. "Tori. Be serious. People who get close to him disappear. What if this is a trap?"
"Then I'll disappear too." Tori pulled free. "I don't have a choice, Vega. This is my only shot at freedom."
The weight of those words hung between them.
Vega's eyes glistened, but she blinked it away. "Just... don't die, okay? You're the only friend I have who doesn't want something from me."
"I'm not dying yet." Tori stood. "I have too many people to disappoint first."
"That's not funny."
"Wasn't trying to be."
---
Tori stepped outside, pulling out her phone to call a cab when a blood-red sports car screeched to a halt in front of her.
She didn't flinch. Just raised an eyebrow.
The window rolled down. Pretty-boy face. Cocky smile. Design everything.
Handsome—but he wasn't Bell Royal.
'Damn it. Why did her brain go there?'
"Need a ride, beautiful?"
Tori stared at her phone. Ignoring him was easier than engaging.
"Come on, I don't bite." He stepped out of the car. Confident. Entitled. Hand reaching toward her shoulder—
CRACK.
Her fist shattered his nose before conscious thought kicked in.
"FUCK!" He crumpled, blood gushing between his fingers.
"TORI!"
Vega burst through the doors, face white with horror. "That's Xavier Chen! Do you know who he is?!"
Tori looked at the bleeding man. Then at Vega. "Should I?"
"He's the highest-paid actor in the country! His face is insured for ten million dollars!"
'Oops.'
"He grabbed at me. Instinct."
"He wasn't grabbing—he was—" Vega pressed her hands to her face. "Oh God. If this gets out, we're both dead. Come on."
---
PHOENIX CAFÉ - PRIVATE ROOM
Xavier sat with a tissue shoved up his nostrils, glaring at Tori. "You broke my nose."
"You reached for me without permission."
"I was being friendly!"
"Friendly gets you killed where I'm from."
Vega rubbed her temples. "Can we not turn this into a murder scene? Xavier, stop hitting on random women. Tori, stop assaulting my clients."
"He's not random," Xavier muttered. "She's interesting."
Tori's gaze cut to him. "I'm leaving."
"Wait." Xavier stood, wincing. "At least bandage it. You broke it—you fix it."
"You're not five."
"I'm in pain."
Tori had been shot twice, stabbed four times, and once had to dig a tracker out of her own thigh with a kitchen knife. A broken nose was a Tuesday.
But Vega's pleading eyes made her sigh.
"Fine. Sit."
She grabbed the first aid kit and worked in silence. Xavier watched her with unsettling intensity—the kind of look that meant complications.
Her hair fell forward. Her fingers were efficient, clinical. And her scent—vanilla and chocolate, subtle and warm—made his heart do something stupid.
"You're different," he said quietly.
"I'm busy." She finished the bandage and packed up. "Don't follow me. Don't contact me. Forget you met me."
She left without looking back.
Xavier touched the bandage, something dangerous sparking in his chest.
"Oh no." Vega pointed at him. "No. Whatever you're thinking—stop."
"I'm not thinking anything."
"You have that look. The look that gets you in tabloids."
"I just want to know her name."
"Absolutely not. She's going through enough without you adding to it." Vega stood. "Go home. Ice your face. Forget her."
But as Xavier left, he was already thinking about how to see her again.
And Vega knew—with sinking certainty—that her best friend had just caught the attention of someone almost as dangerous as Bell Royal himself.
---
Meanwhile in Bell Royal's office…
Aidan entered without knocking. "Sir. The background check on Tori Vega came back."
Bell didn't look up from his documents. "And?"
"Clean. Too clean. Poor background, excellent education, no criminal record. It's almost perfect."
"Almost."
"Almost." Aidan set down a tablet. "No one has a record this spotless. Either she's exactly who she claims, or she's very good at covering tracks."
Bell's mismatched eyes lifted. "She moves in tomorrow."
"You're still going through with it? Even with suspicions?"
"Especially with suspicions." Bell's lips curved—not quite a smile. Something colder. "Keep her close. Watch her. If she's hiding something..."
"You'll find it."
"I always do."
—