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1. The Wild Child

CHAPTER 1

THE WILD CHILD

The bass thrummed through Enzo Ricci's bones, a primal rhythm that matched the pounding of his heart. Neon lights pulsed in time with the music, casting ever-shifting shadows across the writhing bodies on the dance floor. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, alcohol, and something darker—the unmistakable musk of power and danger that permeated every corner of Club Inferno.

Enzo tipped his head back, letting the sensation wash over him. This was his element, the pulsing lifeblood of the city's underbelly. Here, he wasn't Enzo Ricci, reluctant heir to the most powerful crime family in Chicago. Here, he was just another beautiful face in the crowd, anonymous and free.

"Another round for the birthday boy!" A voice shouted over the music, and suddenly a shot glass was being pressed into Enzo's hand.

He grinned at his best friend, Luca, raising the glass in a mock salute. "You trying to get me wasted, Luca?"

Luca's answering smile was wicked. "It's your twenty-third, Zo. If you're not puking in an alley by dawn, I've failed as your wingman."

Enzo laughed, downing the shot in one smooth motion. The tequila burned a fiery path down his throat, adding to the pleasant buzz humming through his veins. He was already well past tipsy, riding that perfect high where everything felt possible and consequences were a problem for tomorrow's Enzo.

"Come on," Luca shouted, tugging at Enzo's arm. "Let's dance!"

Enzo allowed himself to be pulled onto the dance floor, losing himself in the throng of bodies. Hands reached for him, men drawn to his effortless grace and the aura of danger that clung to him like expensive cologne. He reveled in it, in the hungry gazes and not-so-accidental touches.

This was what he lived for—the thrill of the chase, the intoxicating rush of being wanted. It was so much better than the stuffy world of family obligations and mafia politics he'd been born into.

As the song changed, transitioning into something slower and more sensual, Enzo felt a prickle at the back of his neck. The hair-raising sensation of being watched. He turned, scanning the crowd, until his gaze landed on a figure at the bar.

The man was older, probably in his late thirties, with salt-and-pepper hair and a jawline that could cut glass. He was dressed impeccably in a tailored suit that screamed money and power. But it was his eyes that captured Enzo's attention—steel gray and utterly focused on him.

Enzo felt a thrill run through him, equal parts excitement and danger. He knew that look. Had seen it countless times on the faces of his father's associates, the hungry gaze of a predator eyeing its next meal.

A smarter man might have looked away, might have retreated to the safety of his friends. But Enzo had never been accused of being smart. No, he lived for this—for pushing boundaries and playing with fire.

He met the stranger's gaze head-on, letting a slow, sultry smile spread across his lips. Then, with deliberate provocation, he began to dance. Every movement was calculated to entice, to draw the eye and stoke desire. He ran his hands through his hair, down his chest, letting his shirt ride up to reveal a tantalizing strip of skin.

The stranger's eyes darkened, his grip visibly tightening on his tumbler of whiskey. Enzo's grin widened. Got you, he thought triumphantly.

He was about to make his move when a commotion near the bar caught his attention. A girl, probably around his age, was arguing heatedly with a man who looked to be her brother. Enzo recognized them immediately—Giulia and Franco Bianchi, children of his family's biggest rival.

Enzo hesitated, torn between his attraction to the mysterious stranger and his instinct to help Giulia, who he'd always gotten along with at the few social events their families were forced to attend together.

Before he could decide, Franco grabbed Giulia's arm roughly, dragging her towards the exit. Enzo's protective instincts flared to life. With one last regretful glance at the handsome stranger, he pushed his way through the crowd.

"Hey!" he called out, catching up to the Bianchi siblings just outside the club. "Everything okay here?"

Franco whirled, his face contorting with rage when he recognized Enzo. "Ricci," he spat. "This doesn't concern you. Walk away."

Giulia's eyes were wide with fear and relief. "Enzo, please. Franco found out I've been seeing someone he doesn't approve of. He's threatening to tell our father."

Enzo's mind raced. He knew how controlling the Bianchi patriarch could be. If Giulia was dating someone outside their approved circle, it could spell serious trouble for her.

"Come on, Franco," Enzo said, keeping his voice light despite the tension thrumming through him. "It's a party. Let the girl have some fun. I'm sure whatever's got you worked up can wait until morning."

Franco's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Stay out of this, Ricci. Unless you want to start a war."

Enzo raised his hands in a placating gesture. "No war. Just looking out for a friend. Why don't you let Giulia come with me? I'll make sure she gets home safe, and you can cool off. Win-win."

For a moment, he thought Franco might actually throw a punch. But then, with a disgusted snarl, he shoved Giulia towards Enzo. "Fine. But this isn't over."

As Franco stormed off, Giulia sagged against Enzo in relief. "Thank you," she murmured. "I don't know what he would have done if you hadn't shown up."

Enzo squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "That's what friends are for. Come on, let's get you somewhere safe for the night. You can crash at my place if you need to."

As they hailed a cab, Enzo couldn't help but cast one last glance back at the club. Through the window, he caught a glimpse of the handsome stranger, those steel-gray eyes still fixed on him. The intensity of that gaze sent a shiver down Enzo's spine.

For a wild moment, he considered going back inside, consequences be damned. But Giulia needed him, and Enzo wasn't the type to abandon a friend in need, no matter how tempting the alternative.

The cab ride to Enzo's penthouse was quiet, Giulia lost in her own thoughts and Enzo's mind still stuck on the mysterious man at the bar. He couldn't shake the feeling that he'd missed out on something important, that by walking away he'd altered the course of his fate somehow.

Once they arrived, Enzo showed Giulia to the guest room. "You'll be safe here," he assured her. "Get some rest. We'll figure out what to do in the morning."

Giulia smiled gratefully. "You're a good friend, Enzo. I don't know many guys who'd give up a night of birthday celebrations to play white knight."

Enzo shrugged, aiming for nonchalance. "What can I say? I'm a sucker for a damsel in distress. Besides, the night wasn't a total loss. Did you see that silver fox at the bar? Talk about missed opportunities."

Giulia laughed, some of the tension easing from her shoulders. "Only you could be thinking about hooking up at a time like this. He was hot though. Looked like he wanted to eat you alive."

"Here's hoping I run into him again," Enzo said with a wink. "Now get some sleep. Doctor's orders."

As he retired to his own room, Enzo couldn't shake thoughts of the stranger. Those piercing eyes, the barely restrained power evident in every line of his body. It had been a long time since anyone had affected Enzo so strongly, especially someone he hadn't even spoken to.

Flopping onto his bed, still fully clothed, Enzo let his mind wander. He imagined approaching the man, feeling those strong hands on his body, that intense gaze focused solely on him. His cock stirred with interest, and Enzo groaned, pressing the heel of his hand against his growing erection. He shouldn't be this worked up over a stranger, but something about that man had gotten under his skin.

With a frustrated sigh, Enzo stripped off his clothes and headed for the shower. As the hot water cascaded over his body, he couldn't help but imagine what might have happened if he'd stayed at the club. Would the stranger have approached him? Would those large hands be on Enzo's body right now, pinning him against the shower wall?

Enzo's hand drifted lower, wrapping around his cock. He stroked himself slowly, lost in the fantasy. In his mind, the stranger was there with him, his voice a low growl in Enzo's ear. "Such a naughty boy," the imaginary man purred. "Teasing me all night. Time to teach you a lesson."

It didn't take long for Enzo to reach his peak, coming with a muffled groan, the stranger's imagined touch still tingling on his skin. As he rinsed off, reality began to creep back in. He'd probably never see that man again. It was just another missed connection in a long string of them.

Wrapping a towel around his waist, Enzo padded back to his bedroom. He checked his phone, unsurprised to see a barrage of messages from Luca.

"Dude, where'd you go?"

"Are you with that Bianchi girl? Are you insane?"

"Zo, answer me. I'm worried."

Enzo typed out a quick reply, assuring his friend that he was fine and promising to explain everything tomorrow. Then, exhaustion finally catching up with him, he collapsed onto his bed.

As he drifted off to sleep, Enzo's last thoughts were of steel-gray eyes and strong hands. Little did he know, fate had plans for him and the mysterious stranger. Their paths were destined to cross again, in ways Enzo could never have imagined.

The next morning dawned bright and painful. Enzo groaned, his head pounding with the mother of all hangovers. He fumbled for his phone, squinting at the screen. It was nearly noon, and he had a dozen missed calls from his father.

"Shit," he muttered, dragging himself out of bed. He needed coffee, aspirin, and preferably a time machine to undo whatever damage he'd done last night.

He found Giulia in the kitchen, looking far too chipper for someone who'd had such a dramatic night. She was at the stove, the smell of bacon and eggs filling the air.

"Morning, sunshine," she chirped, far too loudly for Enzo's sensitive ears. "Thought you could use some grease to soak up all that tequila."

Enzo grunted in acknowledgment, making a beeline for the coffee maker. "You're a saint," he mumbled, inhaling the bitter aroma. "How are you so...functional?"

Giulia shrugged, plating up the food. "Guess I didn't drink as much as you. Plus, you know, life-or-death situations tend to sober you up pretty quick."

The events of the previous night came rushing back, and Enzo winced. "Right. How are you holding up?"

"Better, thanks to you," Giulia said, her smile turning serious. "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't stepped in. Franco can be...intense when he's angry."

Enzo nodded, taking a bite of bacon. "Any idea what you're going to do now? It's not like you can avoid your family forever."

Giulia sighed, pushing her eggs around her plate. "I don't know. Maybe I can talk to my father, make him see reason. Or maybe..." she trailed off, biting her lip.

"Maybe what?" Enzo prompted, a sense of foreboding creeping over him.

"Maybe I could stay here for a while?" Giulia's voice was small, uncertain. "Just until things cool down. I know it's a lot to ask, but?—"

Enzo held up a hand, cutting her off. "Giulia, you know I'd do anything for a friend. But harboring the daughter of my family's biggest rival? That's not just crossing a line, that's obliterating it."

Giulia's face fell, and Enzo felt like he'd kicked a puppy. He sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "Look, I can't let you stay here. But I might know a place. Let me make some calls, okay?"

Her answering smile was watery but grateful. "Thanks, Enzo. You're a good friend."

As Enzo reached for his phone, it buzzed with an incoming call. His father's name flashed on the screen, and Enzo's stomach dropped. Whatever was coming, he had a feeling it wasn't going to be good.

"I have to take this," he said, stepping out onto the balcony. With a deep breath, he answered the call. "Hey, Dad. What's up?"

His father's voice was cold, controlled fury evident in every syllable. "My office. One hour. Don't be late."

The line went dead before Enzo could respond. He stared at the phone, a sense of impending doom settling over him. Whatever his father had found out, it was bad. Really bad.

Enzo went back inside, his appetite gone. "I have to go," he told Giulia. "Family stuff. Will you be okay here for a bit? I'll sort out that safe place for you as soon as I can."

Giulia nodded, concern evident in her eyes. "Of course. Enzo, I'm sorry if I've caused trouble for you. I never meant?—"

"It's not your fault," Enzo assured her, even as dread coiled in his gut. "Just...lay low, okay? I'll be back as soon as I can."

As Enzo showered and dressed, his mind raced. Had his father found out about Giulia? About his interference in Bianchi family business? Or was this about something else entirely?

He thought of the mysterious stranger from the club, wondering idly if the man had any connection to his current predicament. It was unlikely, but in Enzo's world, coincidences were rare.

Whatever was waiting for him in his father's office, Enzo knew one thing for certain: his life was about to change. He could feel it in his bones, a shift in the air like the calm before a storm.

As he stepped into the elevator of the Ricci family's corporate headquarters, Enzo straightened his tie and squared his shoulders. He was Enzo fucking Ricci, heir to the most powerful crime family in Chicago. Whatever his father threw at him, he could handle it.

But even as he tried to psych himself up, a small voice in the back of his mind whispered a warning. This was just the beginning. The real test, the real danger, was yet to come.

And somewhere in the city, a pair of steel-gray eyes watched and waited, biding their time until fate brought them face to face with the wild child of the Ricci family once more.

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